Riders on the Storm
by SexyLexiCullen
Summary: Welcome to part 3 of the storm series. Sixteen years after Weather the Storm. Follow the Skip, Bella, and their kids - now older, wiser, and enmeshed in the family business. How will Edward cope with trying to teach Damion and Sonny the ropes, keeping Kylie out of trouble, and Bella happy? Does he still have what it takes to juggle all his duties? Mobward. OOC. AU. Romance/Humor.
1. Bella

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**Here we go! This is the first chapter of the time jump...obviously. I'm really excited. It's almost as if I'm introducing NEW characters, but they're not new. They're the same QS/WTS crew you all know and love, only they've gotten older. *squee* Yup. I'm THAT excited. Oh, and please reward me with reviews. I'm hoping this story hits 10k before it ends. (shrug) It'd just be nice. **

**HUGE thank you once again! Thanks for reading, reviewing, sharing your kind words and thoughts, and being a LARGE part of this story. OK. Here we go...**

**Welcome to part three of the Storm Series! **

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**Sixteen Years Later . . . **

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter One: Bella**

**I**n all my years and days so far, I can honestly say that today has been the most stressful. At my ripe old age, I should be sipping strawberry daiquiris on a beach down in Florida, but I'm not.

Since nine this morning, I've been to the bridal shop, the florist, the caterers, the wedding hall, and the bank. I think I'll have done more today by dinnertime than I did all last week. Hiring a wedding planner was a total waste of time. If you want something done fast and correctly, you have to do it yourself and throw around a bunch of cash.

Worse for wear, I collapsed in a chair across from my husband. "I'm pooped."

He sighed, wearing a shit-eating grin. "You wanted a _big_ wedding."

In no mood, I gave that sexy fucker my middle finger.

"Oh!" he shouted. "You promise?"

Raising a brow, I raised my skirt too. "You have to do all the work . . . have at me." I winked, internally hoping he would have his way with me. Lord knew I needed it—to unwind, relax, numb my brain.

Edward chuckled, standing and coming out from around his desk. "Get on your knees." He reached for his belt.

I giggled, slouching down and licking my lips—anticipating whatever might come, hopefully me!

And just as my skirt was close to my waist, the door burst open.

"You put Aunt Lauren next to Uncle Aro?" Kylie came in with the seating chart. "They fight all the time, and Aunt Lisa hates her. They can't sit together." She didn't even notice me cover up.

I sighed. "So, put Uncle Aro and Aunt Lisa at our table . . . next to Uncle Carlisle and Aunt Alex. It's no big deal, Ky… People only sit in their assigned seats for the actual meal, which is pretty brief."

"You don't get it."

I threw my hands into the air. "What don't I get?" I asked her.

My daughter gave me a glare and stormed out of the room.

"Fucking brat," I whispered. "Doesn't she know how much this is costing us?" My voice started to rise and I turned in the chair, toward the door, hoping she'd hear me. "How much work _I_ put into it? Forget about her not talking to me all summer . . . I don't even know what I've done besides support her. Or is that a crime?" My head whipped back to my husband.

Edward laughed because he didn't want her getting married in the first place. Our daughter is three months shy of turning nineteen. Apparently, she's in love, and age doesn't matter. Of course, my husband is less than enthused about our daughter's fiancé's age. He's twenty-five and used to be Edward's driver. So, yeah . . . it's been World War Three in this house ever since we caught Kylie and Joe Jr. sneaking around.

It supposedly started when she came home from her senior prom. Kylie and her then-boyfriend broke up that night—right at the prom. Joe drove her to the school and back, and they "connected" or something like that.

Since Kylie doesn't talk to me, she chose to speak to Joe about her heartache instead, and, voilà, they've been together since.

The man my daughter chose to marry is like her father in some ways—in trade alone, actually. Funny how my daughter and husband really don't get along these days, yet she chose a man that's kind of like her daddy to marry.

I'm no Freud or . . . anyone, but that strikes me as odd.

Nevertheless, young Joe came and asked for Kylie's hand. You'd think Edward would have had him killed or something, but no.

Not yet.

Edward knows Joe, and so Edward can control him. As long as Joe works for the Skip, Edward has an "in" into controlling Kylie's life.

That, and what I said, "The hell we know is better than the hell we don't". What comes to mind, with how Edward is acting, is what happened with Alex and Ronnie—Mr. Baldassari pushing his daughter onto Carlisle. It's the opposite. Edward doesn't want Kylie to marry anyone, but having his daughter with one of his puppets ensures that the Skip will also be pulling her strings.

Luckily, it worked out for Alex and Carlisle.

Sadly, she did miscarry—actually started bleeding two days after their wedding and needed a D&C, but ten months later she got pregnant again. They had a boy and named him Edward—_they snatched up that family name after confirming with us that we weren't having any more children. _

It wasn't easy for her, though. Like me, Alex had problems where impregnation was concerned. Well, to clarify, my problem was actually _staying _pregnant. Then four years ago—in a last attempt, one final hurrah because Carlisle thinks he's too old, even though Alex still has quite a few years at her disposal—she was inseminated and wound up pregnant with twins.

They're identical boys—Blaze and Ronald—and they look like little angels. They resemble Alex more than Carlisle, but they have behavioral issues—ADHD—and I've realized that Alex is a fucking saint, along with being a moron for a while at the beginning. She didn't want them on medication, until she came to her senses. Or, truthfully, just couldn't take her badass, hyper kids anymore and wanted to jump out a window. They're good now.

The happy couple bought a new house—a castle—a few blocks away from us fifteen years ago. All is good, or so I hear. My friend learned a long time ago that it's better to leave people wondering than be the topic of gossip. She stopped gushing about her wonderful husband a few years ago.

Hanna is a socialite, who's still living off her daddy. She has a bachelor's in business but hasn't put it to use yet. Carli is getting her master's in Art History and works at a gallery in SoHo part-time. She's living this artsy, Bohemian lifestyle, yet has a loft that costs an arm and a leg in the Village—with Daddy's help, of course. Anthony is attending Hunter College in the city, studying Liberal Arts until he gets his shit together. Little Edward started the tenth grade this year. He goes to the same Catholic high school Kylie did.

So, their match worked out, but I couldn't say the same for Kylie and Joe. And is Alex really happy? She's taken up shopping like I suggested, and she never went back to work like I predicted. Truth be told, Carlisle went back to not coming home as often when the twins turned three. He says he's busy, working and whatnot, but he's not fooling anyone.

"You still feeling kinky?" Edward jerked his chin to me. "Gonna give it up?"

I scoffed at nothing and dragged my tired ass out of his office.

Having two hours to myself until the rehearsal dinner, I decided to take a long bath in the Jacuzzi.

"Mom?" Kylie let herself in.

"Christ!" I shouted at her. "Can't I have a minute?"

She didn't care. "Which dress?" She held two up for me.

"The blue one." I selected that because it's less revealing. The shit our youngest chooses to wear nearly gives Edward a heart attack. He's all over that, too—teaching young Joe how to be the man of the house, trying to teach him how to dictate. It's not like it'll make a difference to Kylie.

Our daughter never had freedom, not like her brothers. My husband—her father—is a total hypocrite. Although spoiled, she never had it easy growing up in this house. Edward still treats her like she's seven.

It's sad to say, but that may be why she's so quick to run away. She has multiple options, though. She has the world at her disposal, so who the fuck knows? I don't see anything special about Joe, and I can't stand his mother—Marissa.

She smirked, staring at the skimpy one. "The black one it is."

My daughter can be an asshole.

What can I say, though? She still acts like a fucking teenager because she is one.

I never wanted this to be a big wedding in the first place, or, really, for the wedding to happen at all. The only thing I said was that we have to do it up because people will talk if we—the Cullens—don't.

We might as well do it right if we're doing it at all. All of which meant we had to spend _beaucoup_ bucks and make it this huge extravaganza.

_It's total bullshit. _

At first, I thought she was pregnant. She's not—thank God, but…

It still confounds me.

"Come sit for a minute." My tone was low.

"I don't have time for your _Girl, Interrupted_ today." She sneered, actually fucking sneered at me.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't wanna talk." She turned from me.

"Please," I begged.

"Watch where you're going—" Kylie almost bumped into her father on the way out.

"Excuse me?" Edward shouted, because these days he only has one volume—loud.

"Sorry, Daddy." Ugh. She sounded so damn sweet.

"It's okay, angel." And then my husband intruded on my peaceful time.

"What?" I asked.

He looked behind himself—probably watching Kylie leave our bedroom—and then locked the door. "Thought you might need some help relaxing." He wiggled his brows, kicking off his shoes.

I smiled for the first time all day. "The water's still warm."

"It's a hot tub."

"I know," I said, shaking my head. "I'm just saying." I watched, becoming mesmerized as he undressed in front of me. The years have been so good to my husband—not as good to me, but I work with what I have. Now, since I have no metabolism, I work out, take walks, and I take very good care of my skin. Right now, I'm considering Botox injections, although the expensive wrinkle cream is a godsend.

It's the little things in life . . .

And at forty-nine, I am still one hot momma.

I just don't look as good as my husband, although he'll argue that. He takes really good care of himself, too. Save the gray streaks in his hair, he shows little signs of age and sports a chiseled, muscular chest.

"You ready for this?" That conceited fuck was staring in the mirror, not at me.

I yawned, but didn't mean to.

"You tired?" He scratched his bicep.

I didn't even bother answering him as he placed a foot into the tub and winced. "Fuck . . . you weren't lying. My balls are gonna melt off." He slowly eased himself into the water.

I sighed, leaning back and staring. Little does he know, I could do this all day. "I love you." Underneath it all, I've been extremely happy to have all my kids under the same roof while the preparations are taking place. And being so happy has made the both of us horny freaks. Maybe having all the kids around made us feel younger—reminded us of all the times we had to sneak around.

He smiled, palming my cheek. "It's not too late to get them tickets to Vegas. We can all go." He shrugged, lying through his teeth.

Something was up.

I hummed, sitting up a bit. "You're way too calm for my liking, Skip."

True, he is coaching Joe and has come to terms with our daughter's future nuptials, but the way he was while Kylie was in high school—high-strung and way too overprotective—is a complete contrast to his recent behavior.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he whispered.

I rolled my eyes.

He grabbed my hand. "This is serious."

My lips drew a tight line, and I prepared myself for whatever he was going to say—steeling my nerves.

"I don't think there's going to be a wedding." His smile practically lit up the fucking bathroom.

"We've been over this, and Kylie's feet are hot, not cold—she's so stubborn. God forbid, she talk to me about anything—"

"Peto is coming."

"What?" I shouted.

Peto—Giovanni, who's Aro's son—was the boy who broke her heart on prom night. They were best friends from birth, and then dated from sophomore year until senior prom night. To this day, I have no idea why they broke up. But then he stayed away the entire summer, left early for college out in Texas, all while Kylie had started dating Joe.

Kylie was also accepted at the University of Texas at Austin, but she never went, either because of Joe or because Peto was going there. She was also accepted to three other schools: NYU, Rutgers, and the University of Connecticut. All of which are a commute away, or she could have lived in the dorms—like Damion.

Our daughter had no excuse for deciding to skip college, and that bugged me more than anything . . . having the world at her fingertips—so much opportunity slipping right by.

She said college didn't interest her anymore, but I wasn't about to have that brat lounge around the house while we pay her credit cards, her phone bill, and keep a driver on standby for her. Oh, no. My daughter has lived a charmed, yet sheltered life, but it was work or school with the boys, and I wasn't going to budge on that double standard with Edward.

He didn't give a fuck—said she could chill by the pool all summer for all he cared. Meanwhile, when Sonny and Damion weren't in school, they had jobs. Whether it was busing tables at one of the restaurants or cleaning offices for Aro's janitorial service, every summer they worked somewhere since they were each fifteen.

Kylie, since graduation, runs the tanning salon. She does it to the best of her ability, and when she needs help or advice, I'm here.

I already have one child wasting his potential, and it irked me that I might just have another.

Sonny operates Eclipse on a full-time basis.

And I hate it.

He graduated from NYU with a law degree.

And I'm supposed to believe some bullshit about his anxieties when it comes to taking the bar exam. He's a chip off the old block, but at least Edward is an actual lawyer.

"Two birds—one stone." He clapped, breaking me from my reverie.

"Huh?" I asked.

"We both know Joe Jr. was the rebound guy." He lifted my foot to massage it. "They broke up over some misunderstanding. Peto says some chick that had this mad crush on him told Kylie they kissed or something. He says it's not true, and that he waited months—hell, he still likes her . . . he said so." Edward's face fell.

"They broke up because of a kiss? A rumor of a kiss?" That made no sense. Someone was sugarcoating the real story or feeding Edward some bullshit.

Edward stared into the water. "That'd be awesome—a Cullen and a Andino? We'd be related—Aro and me. But!" He held up a finger. "That's later. If all goes according to plan, our daughter will go to Texas with Peto and get the college education we wanted for her. It'll give her that push—" He punched the air.

I groaned. "But why does she need _a man_ for that push? Fuck Joe. Fuck Peto. What does she need them for? Didn't we raise her to be independent?" I shook my head, getting even more pissed off. "No, we didn't. You had to smother her, so now she thinks she needs a man—"

"Cool it, you." He squeezed my foot. "We're on the same team."

I huffed. "She's so smart. Right now she can have Joe and _still_ go to school, but she doesn't want to. She's also eighteen, and in this day and age, a high school education doesn't get you very far. What the fuck does she know about the world—"

He kept going, talking over me. "And in a few years, I hope they marry. And before you say anything, I already got in touch with the school. Her acceptance is still good. All I had to do was, um, make a donation . . . and, if it doesn't work out, accidents have a tendency to happen. This wedding, however, is not going to happen."

My voice was shaky as I let out a laugh and took my foot back. "Edward—"

"We know Joe was the rebound guy. Every time Aro comes over and Kylie's home, she asks how Peto's doing. Aro said." He nodded, pursing his lips.

"That doesn't mean—"

"She's not marrying Joe," he said sternly. "That's out of the question. When he touches her, it makes my skin crawl." He shivered. "He's a dog just like his father . . . I can't imagine them being married and her giving herself to him . . . He doesn't deserve something so good, so pure . . . you forget, I know Joe. Peto . . . whatever." Edward waved a hand. "He's a good kid, emphasis on kid. Joe's…he's a man. I'm a man—"

"_Giving_ herself?" I grimaced. "What century are you living in?"

He pointed at me. "She's not going to be some wise guy's wife. Got it?"

I snorted. "Well, what the hell am I?"

He grinned. "You're Bebella, my heart—" he came closer, easing his way between my legs, so they wrapped around him, "my soul. You're not a wise guy's wife. You're the Skip's wife—there's a difference."

"Har, har," I said in a dull monotone.

"I set the whole thing up. I mean, you said so yourself. If we forbade Kylie from seeing Joe, she'd just want him more. We went along with it . . . we went above and fucking beyond. We did everything doting and loving parents are supposed to do . . . And now we wait for it to crumble." He let out a maniacal laugh.

"Edward—"

"And tonight, we'll still have a great party. We'll have dinner with all _our_ friends and family—Joe's can go fuck themselves." His lips touched mine. "We haven't had any big parties in a while… We'll cancel tomorrow, but chill tonight. It won't be a total waste or loss. A few people owed me favors—" He shrugged.

Wanting him to shut the fuck up with his pipe dream, I deepened the kiss, roaming my hands up, down, and around his chest.

"I know you're trying to shut me up—" Stroking his cock made his words end. He let out a shiver, slumping his head and leaning it against my shoulder.

"You want me?" I whispered.

"Always." He grunted, kneading his hands into my ass to pull it toward him. While his lips kissed along my neck, I aligned myself with him and then came down slowly.

Skimming his nose across my skin, it left what felt like a fire in its wake. A moan escaped my lips when he replaced his nose with his mouth. He placed tender, open-mouthed kisses along my chest, as my hands hugged him tighter to me, my breathing becoming ragged while our bodies rocked.

His hands left my hips to palm my breasts. Lightly, he ran his hands over my nipples, making them pebble. A shiver ran through my body, a groan escaped my lips, and I felt as though my whole body was on fire.

With a growl falling from Edward, he ran his hands down my torso. He held me tightly to him with one hand, and his other disappeared from sight. He ran his finger up my thigh, along my folds, and settled on my clit.

Meanwhile, he held my gaze. I couldn't look away, nearly hypnotized by him—Edward, my love, the man I still yearn for—the only man that sets me ablaze.

Panting and wanting more—always wanting more—he pleasured me with his fingers as his mouth attached to my nipple. He bit it lightly, making my hips buck against him.

I moaned, pulling his hair back to gain access to that delicious mouth of his.

Our mouths came together, fought together for control, and settled into a common dance.

The trust and love we've shared over the years—which grows stronger still—made us both content to go slow.

Neither one of us are going anywhere.

His hands trailed up my back, around my neck, and back down my breasts, letting his hand disappear again. The contact caused me to convulse. "Let me take you home," he breathed.

I nodded, steadying myself, and yet thrusting my hips to his a little faster. His thumb twirled around my clit, and that's when I really thought I was on fire. It started in my gut and spread throughout my body quickly.

My breath caught, my muscles tightened, and euphoria—a feeling only my Edward can give me—replaced the flames. I cried out, gasping for air, while Edward did the same—holding me down onto him, in a grasp so tight as he went the deepest he could inside of me.

"This face—" Edward panted, cupping my cheeks, "does it every time." He drew my lips to his.

"I love you." I grinned, pecking his lips a few more times.

"I love you, too, Mrs. Cullen."

He held me in one of those death-grip embraces, and I felt content to be in it forever . . .

/=/=/=/

**R**eady for the evening, I waited patiently for my daughter to come out of her room. Edward had gone on ahead of us—we women were taking too long for his liking. No matter, we weren't late just yet, but I wanted Edward to go on ahead and greet the guests.

Tonight's rehearsal dinner was being held at La Bella Italia, and I couldn't wait to go. With all the preparations for this wedding tomorrow and being busy, it's been a while since Edward and I have had a night out.

"Kylie?" I knocked.

"It's open," she said.

Entering the room, I gasped when my gaze fell on her. She was still in pajamas. "What . . .?" I didn't even know what to say.

"I-I—I wasn't sure." She was wringing her shaking hands together.

"Baby?" I sat next to her, pushing her hair away from her face. "Talk to me. Please?" I pleaded as I held her hands in my own.

I may give her award-winning attitude right back, but I'm always here for her.

She knows that. She knows she can say, tell me anything, and I'd never judge her.

Believe it or not, I'm more of a confidant or secret keeper for Sonny, Damion, and Edward. My daughter doesn't speak to anyone about personal matters lately, except maybe Damion, and he won't betray his sister's trust, as much as I wished he would.

"If you're not sure—"

"I'm sure." She sniffled.

"Looks to me like—"

"Not every marriage is perfect, right?" she asked. "I'm like you, and Joe . . . he's kind of like Daddy, so we'll get along, right?"

"Sweetie, there are many things—so many things that contribute to a happy marriage."

"How'd you know you wanted to marry Daddy?" she asked, and then she scooted her lower half away to rest her head in my lap.

I giggled, running my fingers through her soft hair, reveling in this moment. She hasn't done this in ages—let me play with her hair and hold her. "I think—I think I loved your father at first sight. It just happened. We were adults, and much different from you and Joe."

From what I see, Joe isn't technically like Edward at all. He's in the business, but he lacks the passion I know lives in my husband's heart. He'll care for Kylie; however, in a year or two's time, I was sure my daughter would have to accept a goomah. I did not want that for her. Just like Edward said, the more we tried to separate them, the more they'd want to be together.

Plus, I hold dear to _my_ heart the idea that Edward will kill Joe if he ever played our daughter dirty. This time, I'm calling his bluff on ending Joe's life if he doesn't call off the wedding before it takes place. I highly doubt that he'd do that to our daughter.

"Like . . . how did you feel?" she whispered.

"Like, if I didn't see him soon—if I wasn't near him—I'd die," I laughed, thinking back to how silly and immature we were. "He filled my belly with butterflies all the time. And, my God, the sex—"

"Ma!" She sucked her teeth.

"I'm being honest." I tickled her side. "I was so in love with him. Back then, I wondered if there was a word that meant more than . . . just love, and now it doesn't make a difference. I may tell your father I love him, but he knows just how deep my true feelings really run. It's almost magical."

"I want what you and Daddy have."

I furrowed my brow. "And . . . baby, are you in love with Joe?"

"It doesn't matter. I can't hurt him—"

"What?" I asked, not quite hearing her words.

She sat up to smile sadly. "I always thought I'd marry Gio," she spoke of Peto. "I always—always pictured the dress, our families, this big ceremony . . ."

"Kylie," I hedged, wondering if Edward might get his wish. "Do you still love Peto?"

"Joe makes me forget," she cried.

"Oh!" I gathered her into my arms. "You say the word—you don't even have to tell Joe, Daddy will. We can cancel—honey, you're so young." I rocked us back and forth. "You still have so much to do, so much to learn."

"I want babies and a house, and—"

"You're too young."

"No—"

"You're settling," I said the words I've been holding back for months. "When I was your age, I would've killed to go to a four-year school—to get away from New York, to get an education. You want what your father and I have . . ."

And if she married Joe, she'd likely get half of it—pregnant within a year, waiting up until all hours while her husband is out doing God knows what. She'll never go to college, even if she changes her mind and wants to go one day.

"You don't know what you're signing up for." I grabbed her face, making her look at me. "I'm going to say a few things. They say the truth hurts, but—"

"Stop." She went to pull away, but I steadied her.

"No. You're a kid. You're eighteen. Your father and I made mistakes—shielding and smothering you. I'm sorry, but you act much younger than eighteen. You're smart, so fucking smart. You're just not people-smart, and you need to be—you're not ready to start a family, either."

"You were young," she argued.

"Still…Even at twenty-three, _I_ had no idea what all this was going to be like. Please, listen to me. I'm begging you, baby…"

She pulled away from me and stood from the bed. "I know what Daddy and Joe do . . . for a living," she said.

"Good. I'm glad you're not blind to it all, but there's so much more that you haven't seen." I stood up, too. "You never saw certain things. You were too young during your father's heyday—you don't remember the bulk of it, and . . . your father has slowed down, immensely! There haven't been any conflicts—" My stomach tied in knots, as if I was possibly realizing all of this now—the stresses that go along with marrying a connected guy.

"Baby girl, I'd give you my blessing, but—"

"I'm marrying Joe." She turned away from me, undressing to redress.

"What happened to wanting to be a doctor?" I asked.

"Things change," she whispered.

"Then you wanted to be a veterinarian. Now, you're just hellbent on being a mob wife?" I scoffed. "Sit at home and raise kids while your husband sticks his dick in whores, breaks the law . . ." My tone was venomous. I needed her to listen to me.

She paused in her movements and refused to face me. "Dad cheats?" she asked, incredulous, and looked like she just found out there was no Santa Claus.

"Never." I stepped closer. "But I don't know Joe like that. He might—it kind of comes with the territory."

"That's how Sonny is."

"Your brother is young and single. He's not married and—"

"And he's a capo." She turned to face me. "Joe's on his crew, so I know." She eyed me from head-to-toe, scoffing before she faced the mirror again. She was trying to hurt me. The difference was my words hadn't been said to be painful to her.

That felt like a blow to the stomach, and I held my abdomen—feeling sick. "We're not talking about your brother," I whispered. "Why are you trying to hurt me?"

She whipped around to face me again. "Because you won't leave me alone!" she screamed. "I'm eighteen. I'm an adult...and I can make my own decisions!"

"Kylie—"

"How can you be such a hypocrite?" She stomped her foot.

"Me?" I asked, placing my hand to my heart.

"It's okay for Dad, Sonny, and you to be involved with . . ." She groaned.

"Watch your tone!" I had enough of her attitude. "You want the truth? You're a prize, Kylie. You think you know so much…Well, I hope you know Joe could be using you as some get-out-of-jail-free card or whatever-the-fuck! He's using you to possibly move up in rank! You're just his trophy. Sure, he'll give you what you want. You'll have a baby and everything will be wonderful, and then he'll stop coming home, and you'll be home alone with a crying infant and your fucking stretch marks!"

"Stop it!" she screamed, covering her ears. "How can you say that? You don't know him—"

"I know his type." I shrugged.

"No . . . all I want is to love and be loved in return. I'm not and will not be doing anything wrong. I'll have babies and raise them . . . I'd never get mixed up in 'the thing', as they call it." She shook her head at me. "You don't know anything."

I nodded. "You're right. You are so correct, Kylie. I don't know anything." My tone was laced with sarcasm as I shrugged my shoulders again. "_I_ don't know what I'm talking about . . . silly me."

Year after year, I tried to keep my children away from all the garbage, and the more I tried, the closer they got to it. No matter what I do—what I say—my children do what they want, and I was tired of fighting with them.

So, I stopped bitching.

Edward didn't want this life for our children, but it was useless to fight against them—with the exception of Damion, who has nothing to do with it.

After I found out about Sonny's button ceremony—the night he was made—I didn't speak to Edward for two weeks, held a grudge against him for five weeks, and then I accepted it—accepted that Sonny was going to do what he wanted, and being one of Edward's guys ensures that his father will look after him. I'm here for Sonny, even if I don't agree with it, and it makes me sick to think about it. Like everything else in my life that I wasn't a fan of, I learned to like it and embrace it to the best of my ability.

I didn't have a choice.

"Can you leave?" she shouted. "I'm getting dress—"

"You know what?" I stepped toward her, which actually made her cringe back. I really wanted to smack some sense into her, but I restrained myself—never in my life had I been as angry with Kylie as I was now.

"What?" She stood straight and got closer.

I grinned. "You should put the money you make from this wedding away—keep it in a safe place, because you might need it to bail your husband out of jail one day or bury him!"

Trying as hard as I could not to cry, I turned for the door. There was nothing left for me to say. I might as well have had that whole conversation with a concrete wall.

"Come out when you're dressed." I closed the door behind myself.

Kylie didn't take that long to get ready. My daughter with all her natural beauty—green eyes, dark brown curly hair, and gorgeous face—doesn't need makeup or anything special. She left her hair down and wore the short black dress that shows off her hourglass figure.

Edward says she reminds him so much of me, which is true.

She wears those rose-colored glasses proudly, and her innocence shines.

She wants what her father and I have, but she's going about this so wrong. I told her that on our way to the restaurant—that no matter what she and her husband do for a living—no matter where they live or how much money they'll have, it won't be the same.

Because without love—without passion—they'll have nothing.

She never replied to me, nor did she shriek out in anger. I think I finally reached my young daughter during that short car ride.

But I wasn't sure.

And that scared me.

Time was running out, and I was desperate—all my fears for my daughter were coming to the surface. If Edward's plan A didn't work out, I'd go along with plan B, and pull the fucking trigger . . .

My daughter wasn't going to marry Joe.

Nevertheless, I put a smile on and steeled my nerves to greet all the party guests as I left the limo.

Kylie entered the restaurant before me, and I stopped to say hello to Alex. She was on the phone, made eye contact with me and quickly looked away. I found that odd, and then she quickly ended her call. "Hey!" She smiled wide, kissing my cheek.

I scoped her outfit. She looked fantastic, skinnier than she'd ever been actually, and in a dress made for sin. "You look hot."

She giggled. "You know who else looks hot?"

I stuck out my tongue. "Carlisle?"

She barked out a laugh. "No. I mean, yeah. He does, too." She leaned in to whisper, "Aro's lookin' fine. That diet your sister put him on has worked wonders.."

"Oh, God. Please don't go down that road."

Her eyes widened. "It was just an observation…and I've made a few." She glanced around us. "Oh, come on. I'm cooped up in the house. I never see anyone anymore, and I definitely don't _see_ Aro like that. The only person I see is you, when your scraggily ass comes over for coffee in the morning."

I shook my head, ushering her away from the entrance. "What's up with you?"

"I'm just happy." She shrugged. "Everyone looks great tonight…I was only teasing."

"Okay." I knew what she just said was bullshit.

"My mother took the boys." She grabbed onto my arms and shook me. "Freedom!"

"Okay," I laughed, finally understanding. She was just too happy there for a second.

Her face fell a bit. "Listen, I just feel really good today. I look damn good too." She smoothed down her mini dress. "My mother has the kids, and I'm wearing lingerie under this bad boy…Carlisle and me are partying tonight. We have the house to ourselves…he's not working." She sounded wistful. "I have candles set… It's going to be romantic." She let out a squeal.

I giggled, but remembered something. "I heard—I heard they're all taking Joe out tonight, you know? Is Carlisle staying behind?"

She sucked her teeth, placing a hand on her hip. "If he knows what's good for him…" She waved a finger. "He'll chill with me."

"I'm sure it'll be awesome." I gave her hand a squeeze.

She frowned. "He's going to wanna go out, isn't he?"

I winced. "I don't know."

Alex took a wary glance around and then pulled me even farther away from any crowd. "I hired a private detective—"

I laughed at her. "Your husband—shit, my husband, too—spend their days evading Feds and shit . . . What'd this guy find out?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "Unless he's fucking someone at the firm or Edward…Nothing. He goes to work, does whatever he does with Aro and Edward, and comes home. Most times he goes back to the office."

"He could've spotted the dick and paid him off."

She stomped her foot. "I can't catch a break. I have no proof if he's cheating, but he's not fucking me—"

"Alex—"

"We haven't had sex in forever, and I look better than I did when I was twenty-five—well, maybe." She pulled on her dress again.

"You're gorgeous. Have you spoken to him? And what's forever?" I snorted.

"Uh, four months? And yeah, I've spoken to him…He's tired, old, like that's an excuse. He jogs more than I do—he's very athletic…Tonight, I'm going to jump him. Whatever happens…We're both busy, and I know I can be bitchy when he gets home. But he's stopped trying."

"It happens," I admitted. "You deny, bitch and moan, and they just don't bother—figure you'll ask when you want some," I laughed. "It's happened with Edward and me. He used to come home so enthusiastic, but after I'd spend a whole day running around with the kids," I sighed. "You know how it is. You're dead on your feet."

"Right, and now I feel like a brat, but no. Fuck that." She pointed to herself and got in my face. "My husband doesn't say no to pussy. You know and so do I. There's something going on. He should be ready to jump on this at any given time. It's Carlisle."

"Men go through funks, too, and get outta my face." I pushed her back slightly, and we're best friends, so we can behave this way and be cool about it after.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I got too excited."

"It'll work out . . . Now let's go get drunk." I patted her back.

"You totally just read my mind."

We walked in and greeted people as we did. Best friends or not, we were fast to go to the bar, get our drinks, and then meet up with our husbands. If something was amiss within their union, no one would be able to tell. They were all smiles.

"What took you so long?" Edward asked, "and why does Kylie look like that?"

My gaze immediately went to our daughter. She wore a long face, wrapped in Joe's embrace while she shook his father's hand.

"We talked. It wasn't pretty."

"You okay?" He rubbed my back.

"I'll live." I sipped my drink. "You promise me this wedding won't happen?"

"I swear on everything. It's not," he whispered.

"Then I'll be fine." I gave his hand a squeeze. "But…what's up with your brother?"

Edward turned to look down at me. "What do you mean? He's fine."

I rolled my eyes. "Is he…you know, stepping out?"

"That's none of our business—"

I slapped his bicep, and he was fast to give mine a squeeze. "Here, seriously?"

"I'm sorry." And I was—for stepping out of line in front of all these people, not that anyone saw.

"I'm sorry." He rubbed my arm. "What my brother does doesn't concern me or you. To be honest, I don't have a clue. But I will say this," his lips touched my ear, "leave it alone. Don't get involved."

"I know, but you pretty much just confirmed—"

He smiled. "Baby, I didn't say shit but mind your own business. I honestly don't know. I do know that she had some cat following him around, though," he laughed.

"Can you ask him?" I smiled brightly up at that sexy fucker. "Please?"

He grinned at me. "Why? So you can run and tell Alex? And don't say you won't because you will, or you'll have this huge moral dilemma, which will fuck up the happenings in our bedroom. Leave it alone." He brought my glass to my lips. "Drink—be easy."

"I'm always easy," I grumbled.

"And that's why I love ya." He pinched my ass, going back to being the listener and the people watcher that he is at all of these big events. My husband dejects himself for show, but I know why, and I never take it personal. "Where's Sonny and Dame?"

"I don't know," I said.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **

**Sonny POV is up next!**

**JUST to be clear: this truly does act like an epilogue. The next few chapters will showcase the happenings of THIS day. We'll get a POV from everyone during this party and after. **

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**Hope you all enjoyed that! And I might update more frequently than once a week, considering...**


	2. Santino

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Two: Santino {Sonny}**

"Aro . . . have I ever dicked ya around before?" I asked.

"_Yo, kid . . . watch that mouth, and don't say my fucking name over the phone!"_ he shouted.

I winced. "My bad. I took care of it, though. It's done."

"_Your old man would have my ass if he knew I gave this job to you." _

Rolling my eyes, I sat behind my desk and loosened my tie. "My guy—we can count on him."

"_Who's this guy?"_ he asked. _"You say we can trust him—I do 'cause it's your ass."_ By this point, I was just happy he didn't bring my father into it again.

"He's a good guy—great at what he does. I'll introduce you and Dad to him soon." I chuckled. "He does what he does—that's the only thing he does—how he makes his money."

"_You talk too much . . . you know I hate cell phones. And you're too trusting—"_

"I trust this guy with my life," I said, as there was a knock on the door. "Go get it," I told Georgie. "Look, lemme go."

"_We're at your sister's thing. Your parents are here already. You showing up or what? And where's your brother?" _I wondered the same thing, where Damion was.

"We'll be there. See you soon." I ended the call, placing my cell phone down on my desk.

Georgie, my boy, opened the door for Lori. She manages Eclipse for me; meanwhile, I'm very hands-on. She's more like a partner in helping me run things, and I kind of dig her.

"Mr. Cullen?" She grinned, coming into the room.

"Yes?" I cleared my throat, reaching to take a sip of my beer.

"There's a . . . Tony the Jew here to see you?" Her brow furrowed.

I let out a chuckle. "Tony the Jew?" Having no idea who it was, I grabbed my Glock—hiding it under my desk—as I sat back. "Let him in . . . you go." I didn't want her around in case anything popped off. "We're leaving in twenty minutes or so . . . as soon as Dame and Julie get here. Be ready."

"I'm ready." She smiled. "I can't wait to finally meet your mom." She winked at me, leaving my office before a tall man entered. He had dark hair with curls hanging from each side of his face and a full beard. He wore a black hat and a long black trench coat. Apparently, Tony the Jew was a real Jew—a Hasidic Jew in full garb.

"May I help you?" I asked.

"Jes." He nodded, speaking in a heavy accent. "I come to talk-a-the business." He took the liberty of having a seat in front of me.

I quirked a brow, wondering if this guy was for real. "Business?"

"Jes," he said.

Wary, I wondered where this guy was coming from. My father had some beef with a diamond dealer in the district, and Aro needed to take care of it, but he asked me to, and so I had Damion do it instead.

My younger brother is probably the most dangerous thing this city has ever seen, and you'd never know it. He walks around wearing his glasses and barely speaks unless spoken to—looks like some nerdy fucker.

Right now he attends NYU medical school. He's my father's living dream, with his chubby little girlfriend. He's working his ass off, and he never asks Pop for a dime.

That's because every time I need something—hits never interested me—I pay Damion to do it. When someone else needs a hit set up, I set it up and give the name to my brother. He takes care of it. They pay me, I take a little off the top, and Damion gets the rest. It's a great system.

My father and Aro would never believe me if I told them. Dad also doesn't want Dame in the business—thinks he doesn't have the balls, or the heart.

Little does he know.

Anyway, Damion was supposed to have settled it with Tony's people—pop a cap in Isaac's ass for ripping my father off, actually, and be done with it.

"What kind of business do you want with me?" I widened my arms.

"You can get girls." I could barely understand him. "I need a few."

"Girls?" I nodded, wearing a smile. "I'm no pimp. You need a few chicks for a private party, I'll give you a number, but I personally can't help you."

He laughed, bending over, nearly in hysterics. It slightly startled me, as I wondered if I had some nut job sitting in front of me.

"What's your problem?"

"Vat's my ploblem?" He touched his chest, and then reached up to take off his hat. The black hair and curls went with it to reveal a copper head of hair.

"No, shit!" I shouted, as Damion lost the rest of his costume. He took it all off, and underneath he wore a suit.

"I had you for a second there." He waved a finger at me, his other hand removing the rest of his beard.

"Fuck you—I knew it was you," I lied.

"Dude, you totally had me fooled." Georgie slapped his hand to Damion's.

"You do this all the time?" I asked. "When you do shit, I mean." Suddenly, it all clicked—how he's so good at what he does, how he slips in and out everywhere. Some of the jobs I sent him on were pretty tricky. I remember one time him telling me he'd crashed a card game up in Boston dressed as a pizza delivery kid. But I never knew he'd go this far—dress up to play some part.

Damion looked to Georgie as he took off his gloves. "Can you give us a sec?"

He nodded and quickly left the room, only for Lori to come in. "Everything okay?" she asked, her eyes landing on Damion. "Hey, how are you?"

My brother—always shy as shit around women—didn't look at her. "I'm fine." He cleared his throat, pushing his hair back.

"I thought I told you—"

"Easy, Mr. Cullen." She smiled. "Just wanted to make sure everything was all right."

"It's fine . . . and it's only Dame. You can call me Sonny," I said in a low tone.

"Sonny," she giggled and was fast to leave again.

I blew out a breath, sitting back. "Where's Julie?"

Damion swallowed, taking a seat again. "She broke up with me."

"Why?" I shrugged. "What the fuck could _you_ have done?"

"I keep sneaking away . . . she thought I was cheating on her," he whispered.

Despite doing "odd" jobs, my brother has always loved acting and playing a part while he disguised himself. Damion shines through his costumes—he comes alive—but without them, you'd think he had some type of social disorder; meanwhile, he's very funny. He has a great sense of humor.

Waving a hand, I wished he'd forget about her. They've been together since high school, and she's been bossing him around ever since. They've also broken up about six times by now, which is when my brother gets with other chicks. He's either committed or he's not. When he's with Julie, he's faithful. When they break up, he plays by his own rules—flies by his dick or whatever—although I don't know how he scores at all. He's just too shy, and not once have I ever seen him actually hit on a woman.

Damion is a good-looking guy, and he could have plenty of chicks out there. And Julie? She's not all that. She's modestly pretty, in a plain way, and a little too heavy for me and my tastes. I love thick women, but . . . Julie just isn't my type, and Damion could do better.

"Did you get the ring back?" He proposed on Christmas Eve, but they never set a date.

Damion shook his head. "I told her to keep it."

"You know what you need?" I laughed. "Tonight we're having a party here for Joe." I kept nodding. "Lori won't be here, and we'll chill. Peto's even coming home, and Ant . . . even though he's—" I wiggled my hand, "he's coming, too."

My cousin Anthony is gay, but will chill here with us for the drinks. Our fathers don't know about his preference of cock, and I doubt he'll be coming out of the closet any time soon. The only people who know—besides his own friends—are my brother, my mother, Alex—Ant's mom—and Aro Jr. because he gets down like that, too, and me.

Aro Jr. isn't a full gay—he's bi—fucks both men and women, and used to fuck around with my cousin a few years back. That's how we found out. It was Damion's twenty-first birthday, and my father threw a huge party here at Eclipse. Anthony and Aro Jr. snuck away with one of the girls, and I thought I'd see what they were up to—Anthony being my baby cousin and seventeen at the time. Little did I know I'd walk in on the two of them getting down. Now that was shocking, but I always had a hunch that Aro Jr. was . . .

"AJ called me earlier. He likes pussy this week, so he's coming too," I laughed. "Get it? Coming too?" I continued to chuckle.

"You're a fucking comedian." Dame's eyes widened. "But no." He frowned.

"Come on!" I smacked my desk. "We'll get you laid, blown, and drunk—fuck Julie."

He sniffled, hiding his face.

"Are you crying?"

"We've been together since we were sixteen!" he hollered back. "I wish I could tell her . . . tell her something."

"Look—" I groaned. "Bro, she hit on me on Easter."

"You're lying—"

"Okay, I'm lying." Shaking my head, I stood from my chair. "You're too good for her." I shrugged, trying to think up something to keep him away from her. They'll be back together by next week, but not if he thinks she hit on me.

"Did she blow you?" he whispered.

"What?" I was shocked by his accusation. "No."

"You're lying—" He stood up, making the chair fly back. "You fuck everything!"

"Bro, I swear to Christ . . . and I will not fuck _any_thing. I didn't let her blow me." I was telling the truth because I'd never touch his chick. "She didn't even hit on me." I grumbled, telling the absolute truth. "I _was_ lying . . . just forget about her anyway."

"You've always been jealous . . ." He seethed.

"I'd never. Okay? So what? I was jealous . . . you two in love and bullshit. So fucking what? That doesn't mean I'd—with her." I didn't even feel like finishing that sentence. "I never got why you were so hung up on her. Leave the dog at the pound and party tonight—"

"Fuck you, she's gorgeous . . ." He calmed down.

I laughed again.

"Now let's go." He grimaced, kicking his costume away. "I don't have a fucking date . . . you know Mom's going to try and pawn me off. _Here's my son. He's in medical school."_ He did a spot-on impression of Mom. It made me laugh some more.

"I wonder what'd she say if she knew what you were really doing." I snorted.

He shook his head. "She'd lie—still say I'm in medical school—which I am."

"Right," I agreed. "Go tell Georgie to get the car."

Damion nodded, walking toward the door. "Maybe Kylie has some cute friends." That actually didn't sound like a bad idea. My brother is so shy; he'd probably be on the same level as an eighteen year old. My little sister's friends think he's dreamy or some bullshit.

"Maybe," I said. "Don't worry about getting laid. I got you."

"You're not my type." He blew me a kiss before he left my office.

I laughed, putting on my jacket.

_**/=/=/**_

_**L**_ori and I rode in the back, while Damion sat shotgun and Georgie drove. The traffic was heavy, and Lori smelled fantastic.

"Sonny . . . stop," she giggled.

Lori didn't mean it.

I continued to nibble on her ear as my hand roamed higher on her thigh. Once my fingers hit her panties, I scooped them over and came into contact with her clit. She was practically soaked already and let out a soft moan. While I finger-fucked her in the back, I caught my brother peeping through the rearview. Wanting him to feel a little better, my other hand came up to palm Lori's breast.

"Sonny . . ." She moaned, and I lifted her tit out her blouse—tweaking her nipple with my fingers.

Damion nodded at me in approval, and I smiled—knowing Lori has a great rack.

"I'm gonna—gonna come," she whispered, biting back a groan. I kissed her deep, moving my hand faster as she came around my fingers.

My younger brother laughed, turning the volume on the radio up a little.

"Thank you," Lori sighed, her hand rubbing me over my pants. "It's your turn."

I smacked her hand away. "I'm good," I told her as we came to a stop in front of the restaurant. "You good, though?" I knew she was nervous about meeting my mother.

After all, I am too, since Lori is about thirty-five. She's older, so fucking sexy, and my mother was going to hate her—see her as a cougar or some shit. I'll break it off with her if Mom asks. I don't want any problems. It's not worth it. Lori is just a cool chick—down for whatever—and has an air of maturity. We're not exclusive—well, she is, as I'm the only fuck allowed to tap her ass. I do what I want, when I want, and Lori never asks questions.

My mother was the first person to greet us, and by the look she gave my date, I knew my assessment was true. "She's a little old, no?" Mom kissed my cheek.

"Hello to you, too." I kissed her forehead.

"What's up?" My father hugged me.

I shook my head. "You remember Lori?"

"Hello, Mr. Cullen." Lori smiled.

My father's face remained neutral as he shook her hand. "Welcome." At that moment, I realized he fucking hated her as well, and I couldn't win. I get berated for bringing pigs home, but as soon as I bring a nice girl around, she's too old.

_Well, ain't that a bitch._

"Yeah," I sighed, looking around.

And that was it.

My parents went on to say hello to Damion, while Lori and I entered to have a seat.

After leaving Lori at our table, I headed over to say hello to my sister and the asshole she's marrying. He knows to treat her well or die. Imagine having that shit on your shoulders? The only reason he asked for her hand was because I asked if he fucked her. He stuttered and stammered a response, and I told him to go buy a fucking ring—'cause I'd never kill my baby sister's husband, I think. He took her virtue, and so he'll make her honest—marry her.

"They look fucking miserable," Damion whispered in my ear.

Nodding, I stared at Kylie and Joe. "Maybe they had a fight." I shrugged, slapping my hand onto Aro, Jr.'s back. "What's up?"

"Nothing . . . you guys have to try the goose." He kissed his fingers.

"The what?" I asked.

"It's like chicken," Damion said.

"Oh . . . right. Well, if you made it . . . " Needless to say, if AJ made it, I'll eat it. This kid is a mean cook—can cook just about anything—and is the chef here, besides also running the restaurant.

"Anthony looks amazing . . ." He trailed off, going to greet my cousin.

Damion and I shared a look, and then went to say hello to our aunt and uncle—Emmett and Rosalie. Emmett Jr. and his younger sisters, Emma and Layla, were here, too. It was great to see them, as we don't get to quite often. Our cousin, Charlie, had to work, along with our other two cousins.

We stood there for over twenty minutes, and then Lori showed up at my side. I wasn't being a good date, but I did introduce her to everyone. While she struck up a conversation with my aunt, I joined Damion, who was hugging onto Cousin Alice.

"Sonny!" She left him to embrace me tight. "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages . . . look at you." She palmed my cheek.

I smiled. "It's been too long."

She kissed my cheek, making sure to wipe her lip stuff off. "You have to come up and visit. Jake installed a new deck. It totally makes the backyard."

"Definitely." I doubt I ever would.

"What's up?" Jasper shook my hand. Now him? I see a few days a week.

"Nothing much." I sipped my drink.

"You brought Lori," he said.

"I brought Lori," I sighed, staring at her from across the room.

"Who's Lori?" Alice gasped. "Is it serious?"

I shook my head no.

"It never is with this one." Jasper pointed at me.

I sipped my drink again.

Then I grabbed Damion away from Aunt Alex—I didn't like the way he was looking at her, that fucking weirdo. Maybe I thought Alex was hot when I was twelve, but she's family. I won't lie—say she's not attractive now, but lately Damion doesn't even try to hide his staring. And my uncle worries about _me_… No one in this family can ever let shit go. I asked to see a tit years ago, and that fucking story still haunts me to this day. It's a joke for the dinner table.

"Cool it," I whispered in his ear.

"I said hello—what'd I do?"

I never got the chance to address my concern. We walked right up to the group—Aro, our uncle Carlisle, and Caius.

"You boys remember my Stephanie?" Caius asked, nearly pushing his daughter in front of me. If I recall, she's a few years older than me, too. Maybe I have a thing for older women, I don't know, but Stephanie was a fox.

"Of course. How could I forget?" I kissed her hand. "This is Damion." I put my arm around my brother.

"How's school?" Carlisle asked him.

"Good," Damion whispered, damn near curling in on himself.

Sighing, I stood back while he left us. He went right back over to Alex; however, Anthony had joined them by now. He and our cousin are still best friends.

"What's up with him?" Aro asked me.

"Julie broke up with him," I said.

They all winced. "That's sad. I was hoping those two would be next," Carlisle said. "Or hopefully Anthony. He said he's seeing someone, but does he bring her home . . .?" He shrugged his shoulders.

"How's it going?" Dad came over to join us, giving me an odd look. "Can you excuse us, hun?" he asked Stephanie.

She looked to me. I winked and pointed her in my brother's direction. "See if you can get him to talk."

She laughed, walking away. She had some ass.

Sadly, Caius broke me from my reverie. He hit my shoulder. "Watch it."

I widened my arms. "You shoved her in my face."

"To reintroduce youse." He shook his head. "She doesn't have a date—she's here alone. You think she wants to chill with her old man? If her mother was here—God rest her soul." He did the Sign of the Cross.

Everyone in our group collectively sighed at the mention of Caius's wife, who died so suddenly two years ago. She had cancer and it spread fast or something. I don't know. It was sad. My mother was devastated.

"You or your uncle have anything to tell me?" Dad looked from me to Aro and back.

Shaking my head, I grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray.

"Don't lie to him—he knows already," Aro said.

"Who's this guy you trust with your life?" Dad asked.

Sipping on the booze, I hoped for a commotion—something to happen. God must have been listening to me because there was suddenly shouting. When I turned to see what had happened, I saw Hanna and Carli arguing.

"Excuse me." Uncle Carlisle walked away from us.

My cousins, Hanna and Carli, are always fighting. Damion and me fought all the time when we were younger, but just like my father said, he turned out to be my best friend. I guess it doesn't always work with sisters, though.

"Back to that other thing." Dad twirled a finger.

"He's . . . just some guy I know. He's good at what he does . . . Has he let you down yet?" I asked.

"Set up a sit-down. I wanna meet this fuck." Dad sipped his scotch. "You, Aro, me, and this guy—this week."

"Fine." I had no other choice but to agree, and I hoped Damion had a magic costume he could wear. "Oh no . . . then he becomes_ your_ guy and not mine . . . if you like him."

My father has so many people working for him; if there was ever a bust, it'd likely be hard to trace anything back to him. He's got a hand in everyone's business, though. He makes bank, just being in charge of us all—keeping us in line. I respect that to no end, and he gets to stay home a lot more and bug Mom and Kylie. I remember being a young kid, my mother always had the same argument with him. Dad was never home. He's making up for it in spades now.

Dad winked. "You're catching on." He left the conversation.

"Don't pout. It's cunty," Aro laughed at me, following my father, or my mother. The both of them follow my mother like dogs—like they're Dobermans and Mom has a pork chop tied to her ass.

"Stephanie's not married."

"And I'm not looking to be," I told Caius.

"Hey, stranger." Katie bumped her hip to mine, and I smiled.

"Katie." I hugged her to me tightly—not too tight, since she's pregnant. "Do we know if it's a boy or girl yet?"

"It's a girl," Raul, her husband, said.

I gasped. "We're having a girl!" Her husband knows I kid around—saying the kid is mine and shit.

We were hot and heavy for years. We lost our virginities to each other when I was fifteen. She was fourteen, but we were stupid, though neither one of us ever regretted it. We broke up when I turned nineteen, but we continued to fuck on occasion for years—until a little over six months ago. . . when she and Raul wanted to try for a baby.

What Raul doesn't know won't hurt him.

However, Katie and I have had lengthy discussions. I have no idea if the baby is mine, yet Katie swears it's Raul's. She got pregnant so fast after we'd stopped fooling around. I always used a rubber, but…

And I still consider Katie to be my best friend. She knows me possibly better than anyone else. She also knows that—whether we do it behind Raul's back or not—when that baby is born, we'll get a paternity test. If it's my kid, I want my fucking kid, and having Katie back . . . that'd be a welcome added bonus.

I'd truly have it all . . .

There'd be no way she could stay married to Raul. He's a decent guy, but he'll never love her as much as I do. He'll never be able to provide for her the way I could, and there's no fucking way he'll raise my child.

I see the fear in Katie's eyes, although she knows it'll work out. It always does, but it'll be this huge bomb to drop on both our families.

I'll never forgive myself for letting her go, so easily, and without a fight.

Okay, I lied. Maybe she doesn't know me as well as I wished she did. Katie walks around like she has no idea how I still feel. Maybe she does. I don't know.

"Very funny." He gave me a one-armed hug.

"Your brother show up yet?" I asked.

Katie nodded, and we all turned to Peto. He was talking to Kylie. Feeling giddy, I wanted to go tell Dad, but he was staring. In fact, they had almost everyone's attention, yet Kylie and Peto looked at each other as though the roomful of people didn't exist.

"This wedding is so not going to happen," Katie whispered. "He cried in the car, saying this was his last chance."

"He fucking cried?" I associate males crying over women with love. I figure the day a broad makes me cry is the day I fall in love . . . and Katie was so guilty of that back in the day, when things were always so serious and I thought I'd die without her.

Those were good times.

"Like a baby . . ." Katie mumbled.

I nodded and sipped my drink. "I know a few things about last chances."

Her jaw dropped, and then her head whipped to her husband, like I'd said something perverse. He wasn't paying us any mind any-fucking-way—that blind bastard never does.

"Katie," I whispered, stuck on stupid.

She was gorgeous. Her honey-blond hair was pulled behind her ears. She wore little makeup as she never needed that shit. The dress she had on was dark green. It bunched under her humongous tits and then flared out, while it also made her hazel eyes sparkle.

Fuck, I wished I could palm her breasts because now she actually has a set. My Katie didn't technically develop boobs until . . . Well, I don't remember. One day she was flat-chested—which never bothered me—and the next, Kablam!

She fucking smelled good, too. "Come talk to me." I placed my hand under her elbow.

Katie gasped. "Are those pigs in a blanket?" She pulled Raul over to the buffet.

"Yo!" I couldn't believe she'd just . . .

They turned back to me. "What's up?" Raul asked and that pissed me off. Who the fuck was he to talk for her?

I grinned. "I wasn't talking to—"

"Not here," Katie mouthed, and there were tears in her eyes.

"I, uh—not you, bro." I patted his back. That was when I noticed Caius was still staring at me. "Forget about it," I told him.

Caius shrugged his shoulders and walked away from me.

These days, everyone is looking to marry his or her children off to someone else's kid within the circle, and I'm seen as an eligible bachelor.

"Sonny?"

I turned to my mother.

"So . . . is it serious with this . . . girl?" Her smile was so fake.

"No," I said, dropping my shoulders.

"Mommy knows." She fixed my tie. "She's not the one."

Since I'd already found the one and let her go, I said, "I'm not exactly _looking_ for the one." I placed my hands on hers.

"Then don't waste your time." She turned to Lori. "But maybe you should be . . . you don't want to be a bachelor forever, do you? I mean, Katie has a nice husband. Emmett Jr. settled down, and I hear Anthony has a boyfriend," she whispered, still staring at Lori. "There's something about her, and . . . you don't tell me anything lately. I didn't even know you were seeing someone."

"We're not—it's nothing."

"It's just sex?" She raised a brow.

I pursed my lips. "Basically—more of an arrangement, if you wanna get technical." Now what I had to look forward to was Dad getting into my business. When Mom doesn't have the answers, she sends Dad in.

"And what's this I hear about you passing work off to others?" The fact that she knew about that surprised me, but I guess it shouldn't. My mother is just as much a part of the thing as I am, it seems. She'll just never admit it to herself or anyone else and gives me shit on occasion for "wasting my potential".

"We're having a sit-down with Dad this week."

"Good." She nodded, slowly turning away from me, but then she was back. "Cheer Damion up tonight." Mom stared at Dame and Alex. "He looks sad."

"I already planned on it," I sighed, shaking my head and wondering what the fuck he was up to. "Since when are they so close?" I jerked my chin.

Mom smiled. "Ever notice how lonely people usually flock to each other…?" She toyed with her necklace. "They're both…sad, I guess." She swayed a bit.

"You're drunk?" The party had just begun.

"We got here on time. You and your brother were over an hour late." She swatted my bicep. "I'm feeling great…after the week I had…" She finished her drink.

"You don't think it's weird that they're . . ." I was at a loss for words, and I really just didn't like him talking to her.

"What? We're family. They need an excuse to talk?" she laughed. "Oh, baby . . . You always had a teeny crush—"

"I don't think so." I knew she was teasing me, only these days I don't blush. "I bet Dad's looking for you." He wasn't, but it would get her away from me. Dad was currently speaking to Luke and Aro, and I wondered if I should go over there.

"I can take a hint…Behave." She waved, walking off.

Perusing the buffet myself, I bumped into someone. "Sorry." I didn't even see anyone—not even the knockout with the huge tits grabbing for the ziti. "Hello." I put my hand out.

She smiled, placing her plate down. "Bianca."

"Bianca." I liked that name. "I'm Santino."

"I know," she giggled. "I mean, I know you're Mr. Cullen's son."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Damion staring at us from the end of the buffet line. "Have you met my brother?"

She didn't even look at him. "Yes. My father introduced us."

"Your father?" I asked.

"Nunzio?" She raised a brow and then turned to wave to him.

I did, too. "I thought you lived out in PA?"

"I just moved in with Dad." She shrugged. "I hated it there. I'm looking for a job here."

"Oh." I piled some ziti onto my plate. "What do you do?"

"Real estate," she said. "I was in college, but I wanted a job, job right away."

"Wow . . . that's fascinating." She could have been a dog walker for all I cared. "My brother, Damion, he's looking to buy a house," I lied. "You should sit with us."

"Okay," she agreed. "Let me grab my drink."

"Wait . . . how old are you?" When I saw her face, truly studied her, Bianca looked very young.

"I, um, I'm nineteen. I'll be twenty in-"

"I was just curious," I defended.

She walked away from the line and my eyes followed her, only to land on Damion.

He slightly shook his head no—meaning he was interested, but he wasn't going to do anything about it.

With a plate full of food, I decided to leave my brother—the people watcher—alone. He chose to eat standing in the corner, while the party happened around him.

"Bianca, this is Lori." I introduced them and took a seat. They got busy talking nails and hair, and I ate my food. On occasion, I'd catch my brother staring at Bianca when he wasn't talking to Aunt Alex or Anthony.

And every time I gestured to the table, he'd look away from me—being his sometimes creepy self.

When I came back from grabbing my second plate—this one had goose on it—Lori excused herself, and Bianca's hand came to rest on my thigh.

"This is great," she said. "It's a nice party."

I nodded, keeping an eye on my brother and her hand. For all I know, he and Bianca have an imaginary love affair going, and he'll try to fight me for hooking up with her later.

When Damion pushed his hair back and went outside, I left the table to follow him.

He paced the sidewalk while he smoked a cigarette.

"What is with you?" I asked from the door.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Bullshit. And don't say it has anything to do with Julie—"

"Don't say her name around me." He groaned. "I'm trying to—"

"Sonny?" As soon as Lori came out, Damion shut his mouth.

"I'll be right in—"

"You keep leaving me alone." She frowned.

I pointed into the restaurant because I wasn't going to repeat myself.

Lori huffed and disappeared.

"Give me one." I grabbed a cigarette from him.

"Don't let Mommy see you." He smirked, looking so much like Dad it was scary. "She didn't even notice Kylie take off with Peto."

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears. "You serious?" I lit the cigarette.

"Yup." He threw his to the ground. "No one noticed. Not even Joe. Of course, the unlucky groom is too busy kissing Dad's ass and talking on his cell phone."

"Fuck," I laughed. "We're still going out tonight. I did promise to get you laid." I backtracked. "You're getting laid, not falling in love, okay?" My brother sleeps with someone, and then swears he loves them. He falls in love with someone new every time he breaks up with Julie. But it must not be true love since he forgets all about them when Julie wants him back.

He grinned. "Nunzio's daughter is gorgeous. She's age-appropriate, sort of, I think, and that smile . . . Bet Mom and Dad would be thrilled if we hooked up." Damion looked behind me. "Between her and…I'm giving myself whiplash." He shook his head.

"Who?" I grabbed onto his forearm. "Bianca and who else?"

"No one," he laughed. "I just—I need to get out more." Damion got quiet, and I knew someone was behind us.

"Kylie?" Mom came out, looking frantic.

Dad caught up with her fast and whispered something in her ear.

"She what?" Mom screamed, and I guess Dad caught them leaving too.

"Oh, Bebella . . . this is fantastic." Dad rubbed his hands together.

"You planned that?" Damion asked him.

"Did you?" I seconded.

"Mind your business . . . and smoking will kill you." He grabbed Mom and ushered her back inside.

"He smokes too," Damion said.

"It's called, 'do as he says and not as he does,'" I laughed. "Don't you know that by now? What's good for the goose definitely isn't good for the gander in our family."

Damion smiled. "I got a sit-down with Dad this week?"

"You heard about that, huh?" I blew my smoke into the air.

"I hear everything," he whispered.

I nodded. "I know you do . . . you're all silent and deadly, and add invisible onto that list." I wished I had half his talent. He's so much better at what I do than me. In fact, if I don't watch it, I might be taking orders from him one day. There's no reason to lie about it. I received my button because of my name—who I was. I didn't work half as hard as Georgie and Joe had to, and they take orders from me.

"What are you upset about?" Damion asked. "He didn't want me in it. Now that he knows I can hack it . . . Fuck. I don't even want to be in it like that. I just don't want to hide what I do for you and everyone else from Dad anymore." He chuckled. "I'm content to stay where I am with almost no ties." He wiped his hands clean.

I still wore a frown. "It's not that. Forget it . . . I should get back in there." My stomach dropped, and I was pissed at him, when none of this was his fault. He does what he does, which essentially has little to do with me. All I do is set it up, but he'd turn into Dad's shining star. Of all things, he has the ability to be a better criminal than me, and I was jealous of that . . .

Flicking the cigarette out into the street, I reentered the restaurant.

My eyes found her fast.

She sat next to Lori and sipped her champagne, looking just as beautiful as she had earlier.

Without much fanfare, I approached the table. "Bianca? Did you meet my grandmother yet?" Honestly, I hadn't seen Grandma Renee in years, but that wasn't the point.

"No." She smiled.

"I didn't either," Lori said.

"She's looking to sell her house. I figured Bianca could help her—"

"Oh." Lori nodded.

"I'll be right back—just bringing her over." I kissed her cheek.

Lori smiled, yanking on my tie.

"Not here," I reminded her.

She gulped, looking away from me.

"We'll be back," I told Lori, taking Bianca's hand and pulling her away from the table.

"Where's your grandma?" she asked.

"She's not here." I cornered her by the bathroom. "You just looked so pretty."

She stared at my mouth, and this was going to be easier than I thought.

"Can I kiss you?"

She swallowed, slightly nodding her head yes.

Slowly, I brought my hand up to her cheek—drawing her lips up and closer to mine for a soft peck. She deepened it, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

Quickly, I gathered her in my arms, hugging her to me and turning. I brought her into the bathroom and then into a stall.

Her hands roamed down my body, and then she was jacking my cock. Everything went so fast, and I couldn't believe I was getting away with this. I mean, who knew Bianca was this kind of girl?

Tired of her hand, I smacked it away, picking her up and pinning her to the stall wall. "Can I?" I asked, moving her panties over to twirl my finger around her clit. She groaned, biting onto my jacket as she nodded. That was the only confirmation I needed before I entered her. We let out a collective sigh, as I pounded my cock into her fast and hard.

Her arms and legs were wrapped around me, while my pants bunched around my knees. She felt incredible and I didn't want to stop, but I heard someone come into the bathroom.

Feeling it in my gut, having a huge hunch it was my brother, I fucked her faster.

With a newfound trepidation, I fucked her the best I could—the better I rammed into her, the more sounds she made.

Soon, she came around my dick, and I almost followed. "You on something?" I groaned out, trying to keep my voice below a whisper. I never have sex without protection, but I had an objective in mind, and when I wanted to stop—it was too late and she felt so fucking good against me.

"Yes," she sighed, still hanging on for the ride.

Going as deep as I could, I spilled myself inside of her—marking her, claiming her as mine, before my brother could get the nerve to speak to her.

"Shit." She pushed against me as I caught my breath. "We didn't use a condom. I'm on the pill, but—"

"It's smart to ask before you let some dude fuck you in a bathroom, sweetheart." That's the funny thing about Damion. He chooses the oddest moments to speak.

"I'm clean," I told Bianca, landing a soft kiss on her cheek.

She licked her lips, still pushing against me. "I should get back out there." She slid down my body, righting her dress and opening the stall.

I stood back in the small space and picked up my pants. Just as I left the toilet, I spied Bianca run out of this bathroom, only to run into the ladies room across the hall.

"You had to ruin it?" I asked, zipping my pants. "And what are you doing—being some creepy fuck who _listens_ to people fuck in a bathroom?" I spluttered, shouting.

Damion shrugged, smirking that deadly grin of his.

"Don't fuck with me, Dame," I warned.

"Isn't this what you wanted . . . to be caught?" he asked. "You went after the only chick I had my eyes on, and—"

"You don't even know her."

"Neither do you," he laughed. "Anyway," he shook his head, "Mom got a call on her cell."

"Kylie?" I turned the sink on and got busy washing my hands.

"Peto didn't have to try every hard. Dad took Joe out back to talk to him."

"Just like that?" I rolled my eyes.

"This would have never happened if you hadn't—"

"They had sex!" I shouted. "Our baby sister fucked that, that _thing_. He better have put a ring on her finger."

"And she was fucking Peto when they were sixteen." He scoffed. "Listen to yourself. Sonny, you're not Dad . . . stop trying to be him."

"Fuck you."

"No, for real. You need a reality check. Kylie might be young, but you practically forced her into this. If Mom and Dad only knew—it was all you." He was fast to leave the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed, I splashed some cold water on my face. Maybe I made a mistake when I threatened Joe. Maybe I should have stayed out of it, but I didn't. I also didn't want Joe talking out of turn as far as Kylie was concerned. If she's his fiancée, he won't say shit about her. Otherwise, she was just another notch in his belt, and I guess I wasn't ready for that.

I mean, it's fucking Kylie—my baby sister.

Damion always got along with her, while he also found her annoying. I was her big brother—the one she always ran to, the one who looked out for her when she couldn't go to Mom or Dad.

It was about honor, respect, and loyalty. It had little to do with sex, and I'm not sure if anyone could relate to me, or the reasons why I had him . . . do what he did.

Maybe I had him do it because I could?

Either way, it was over now.

And I wasn't about to hide in a bathroom—lick my wounds, think about Katie, or the possibility that Damion might surpass me in our thing.

Fuck no.

Kylie dissed Joe.

She left. The wedding is off, and he looks like the jackass.

It was time to celebrate.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	3. Kylie

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Three: Kylie**

_**W**_hen I saw Katie and Raul enter the restaurant, my stomach tied in knots. I didn't make a big deal out of it, but Gio was coming tonight. He sent me a text, asking if it was all right.

Before anything, we used to be best friends. I figured it would be no problem.

Now, I wasn't so sure.

"Aunt Mary, how are you?" Joe left his arm draped around my waist and leaned forward to kiss his aunt's cheek.

His aunt Mary looked to me. "Such a beauty." She pinched my cheek.

I giggled, grasping her forearms. "Thank you so much for coming." My beaming smile was beginning to hurt my face.

"You'll be blessing us with a little one soon?" She patted my belly.

"God willing." Joe sipped his drink, and then kissed my hair.

My smile fell briefly, but I was fast to conjure it again. "Have a good time tonight." I squeezed her hand before she walked off. "How many more do we have to stand here for?" My mother told us to stand and greet people as they came in.

"I don't know, but I gotta few calls to make." Joe looked at his watch, making a face. "You used that shampoo?"

"Lavender," I said.

"I don't like it." He lifted his phone to his ear.

I went to grab it away. "Tonight, really? Can't you not . . .?" I asked, gesturing to his rudeness.

He kissed my cheek. "It's the beginning of football season."

"Right." I blew out a breath, knowing he's trying to get his bookie business started. I have no idea how it works. Sonny gave it to him when Joe joined his crew. I don't really know how that works either.

"Hello, hello!" Katie greeted, grabbing me away from Joe.

Genuinely, I laughed and embraced her. "Wow!" I stared down at her stomach. "Look at you!" The last time I saw her, she was hardly showing. Now she was all belly.

She puffed her cheeks and waved a hand. "I'm a parade float."

"No," I said, stomping my foot. "You look gorgeous." I turned to Raul. "And how are you?"

He nodded. "I'm great, Kylie. And you?"

I smiled, nodding too. "I'm . . . I'm just—I'm good."

Katie stared to the side of me and then directly at me. "You don't have to go through with this," she whispered through clenched teeth.

"Not you, too." I bitched in a low tone and turned to Joe. Thankfully, he was on his cell phone.

"You're not even nineteen," she scolded. "Your mother, Alex, and I had lunch the other day, and we think—"

"You're not my mother," I sang.

I love Katie as if she was my own sister. We get along better than I do with my cousins, Hanna and Carli.

Katie, Alex, and my aunt Lizzie are my only allies and best girl buds. Mom and I used to be so close, but . . . And Lizzie moved so far away.

Katie, since she was a kid, has always felt she has to be everyone's mother—mothering and smothering is what she does best. No, she _loves_ best and sticks her nose where it doesn't belong, much like my own mother.

Katie sighed. "I'm still shocked—was shocked when I got the invite in the mail. I called Bella right away." She craned her neck to look around. "Your mother is a miracle worker. She pulled this all off so quickly."

"Ahh," I sighed. "My parents work fast." I shrugged. "Joe and I were going to fly out to Vegas this weekend—"

"Do it before you lost your nerve?" She made a face.

"No!" Pregnant or not, I pinched her arm. "They wanted us to get married here. And my dad tossed around some money . . . It all came together."

"Your mom's been running ragged."

My eyes landed on my mother then. She was receiving people too—wearing the same watered-down smile I'd had earlier. "She's been great." I looked down to the Jimmy Choo's I stole from her closet. They pinch my toes, but matched this dress, and I wanted to look the part tonight.

I needed to fit in—in a world where I never truly have—because I was about to embrace it.

"I'm not surprised they're late." We turned to see Sonny and Damion greeting my parents. "They're late to everything."

"Your brother is looking fine," Katie whispered.

Shockingly, she wasn't looking at Sonny. She was staring at Damion, who rocked the gray Armani suit he wore. His hair was a mess of copper, and his stance—just the way he stood and looked—reminded me of the old photographs of my father. "Mom says Julie broke up with him."

"No!" Katie gasped. "Did he get the ring back?"

"Nope . . . He told her to keep it—"

"Is he crazy?" she shouted, gaining odd glances from those around us. "That rock was—" She stopped to lower her voice. "It was like twenty grand." Her face fell as she studied her modest engagement ring and wedding band.

I did the same, having no idea how much mine cost. It's a one carat solitaire, and Joe promised to get me a bigger one when money was better. "It's not about the ring," I said.

She grinned, dejectedly grasping Raul's hand. He was busy talking to my cousin, Emmett Jr. "You're so right . . . he's the love of my life."

"Of your_ life_?" Her answer saddened me. "Like your _whole_ life?" Maybe I just didn't get it. "You loved—love Raul and that's it? He trumps _every_one?" I always wanted her and Sonny to get back together. The baby put a damper in that plan—doubt my brother would be man enough to overlook the fact that she's having someone else's kid, not that she'd leave Raul . . .

The baby just seemed so final—the last nail in the coffin or something.

She opened her mouth, pausing, and letting go of Raul's hand. He didn't seem to mind or notice. "I—uh—I'm sorry. What'd you wanna know? Pregnancy brain." She tapped her forehead.

"It makes you stupid?"

She slapped my arm. "Bitch."

"Well, does it?" I asked, rubbing my bicep. "Geez."

"Oh . . . you're serious," she laughed. "I thought you were—never mind." Katie stepped closer. "Don't do this."

"Katie," I groaned.

"Listen to me…do not do this. Don't marry Joe. I remember when he dated Carli, and-"

"What?" What she said was news to me. I had no idea Joe and Carli dated.

"It was casual, nothing special, but he was a total dick."

"If it was a one-time thing..." I didn't know what to say, or how I felt about it.

"It was last year." She waved a hand. "There's a million reasons why you shouldn't. And, trust me, Carli isn't one of them."

"Well, what happened between them?" I stood, expectant.

"They had sex. It meant nothing to him, but it did to her. They dated...they finally slept together, and then he never called her again. That's not my point, though," she whispered.

I rubbed my stomach, a nervous wreck. "Carli never said anything to me. I had no idea."

"Because she probably doesn't care." There was still something she wasn't telling me.

I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to read between the lines because you always have to with these people. There's more to what they don't say. "Do _you_ have second thoughts about…?" I tilted my head toward her husband. "Is that why you're..." I gestured for her to continue. "Are your worries for me...Are they really about you and Sonny?"

She rolled her eyes. "No."

"Katie...?"

She huffed a breath, rubbing her own stomach. "I asked Sonny to give me a reason—a reason why I shouldn't marry Raul, and he wished me the best." She shrugged. "What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?" Katie looked away. She stared at Sonny, who was talking to my father and uncles. "I just wish I could stay away from him," she mumbled.

"What?" When Dad made eye contact with me, I looked to my shoes.

"Lucky for you, my brother doesn't have the emotional capacity of a teenager—even if you're both eighteen. You get what I'm saying? Hear Peto out, just promise me that." She squeezed my hand.

"Sonny does not have—"

"No . . . he's—he thought I'd be happier and bowed out because he was a coward."

"No way," I laughed. Sonny's the bravest person I know, although he's annoying and can be a total pig. He's got so many different sides to him, but overall he's wonderful and caring. He had my back when my parents found out about Joe and me. Sonny let me crash on his sofa for a couple days, too.

I ran away to be with Joe, and Joe brought me to Sonny's apartment instead—said it wasn't right and that I couldn't stay with him. My brother sat Joe down for a talk. I fell asleep, and two days later Joe asked me to marry him. It was something out of a book or a dream. We went to dinner. We had dessert, and he got down on one knee . . . It—he made me forget about Gio.

By now we were both staring at Sonny, and again—when Damion caught my gaze, I averted it. "You still nervous?" she asked.

"Um…yeah, I guess so."

"Good." She winked, linking her arm to Raul's.

Everyone thought Katie and Sonny were going to get married. They were together all throughout high school and the beginning of freshmen year of college. Alas, my brother fucked it up. He stayed here in New York, going to our father's alma mater, NYU, and Katie was accepted to Brown. The long distance put a strain on them. My brother was tired of sharing the weekends he had with her with her parents and siblings. He threw a bitch fit and basically gave her an ultimatum—saying she either had to transfer to a school closer, or they were going to break up.

She shocked the shit out of him when she chose to part ways. She told me once a couple of years ago why she made that decision. Katie and Sonny were each other's security blankets. Each other was all they knew—all they wanted to know. And with the way she was raised, by Aro, no one was going to tell Katie what to do.

If I think about it now, that's kind of how Gio and I were—security blankets—only we parted because of much different circumstances.

When Katie started teaching at a public school in Manhattan a couple of years ago, she met Raul, and they've been together since. He teaches math or something, and she teaches social studies.

"Babe, I gotta take this call." Joe left me and I watched him leave the restaurant. He held the door open for Carli, who had a cigarette hanging from her mouth. My instincts told me to follow him, but...

"Bye," I whispered, talking to myself and looking around for Gio.

Me? My story hasn't ended. I don't know how it will end, but I know how it started.

It all began when we were fourteen. My goofy best friend and I had matching braces—blue caps because they were so cool. And my brother Damion teased us one day. He said our teeth would get stuck together when we kissed.

And I had always wondered what it might be like to kiss Gio.

We chalked it up to curiosity.

On a hot summer day, behind my father's shed in our backyard, Gio kissed me and I surprised him by sticking my tongue in his mouth. My mom caught us and shooed us back to the pool. The rest of the day was awkward, and we blushed every time our eyes landed on each other.

For some odd reason—I don't remember why—we didn't talk for almost a week.

When high school started, I thought I had lost my best friend. Then I made a lot of other friends. I had a newfound appreciation for and curiosity about the opposite sex, and the boys of Bishop Ford High School had an appreciation for me, too, apparently.

Gio was always so soft-spoken. I always took the lead and got him in trouble. And I'll never forget that day when he changed . . . It was the third day of school, and I was talking to . . . I don't even remember. It was some boy in our class. Gio became angry and pushed the guy away from me. He stole my hand and pulled me toward him, and I was so confused until he told me that_ I_ was _his_ girlfriend.

Over the moon, I didn't question it. I wanted to have more kisses behind the shed, around school, and wherever we could.

And we did . . .

We had to stop studying together because we never got any studying done.

Our fathers were always out evenings and late afternoons. My mom and Gio's stepmom, Lisa—who's technically my aunt, although I hardly know her—always gave us some freedom. Our doors had to stay open, but they never bothered us.

While our dads were around, we couldn't get away with anything.

I still can't, yet Aro has lightened up a lot since Gio turned sixteen.

In fact, I lost my virginity in Gio's room when we were almost seventeen. I had already spoken to my mom. My mother used to be like my human diary. She knew all my secrets, and we never had that regular mother/daughter relationship, I guess. We were friends and she never betrayed my trust, or told my father anything.

She took me to the doctor for birth control and cried but said I was mature for coming to her. Meanwhile, it wasn't a big deal. I used to tell her everything. And she never told me not to have sex with Gio. She just wanted me to think about it long and hard before we did it. When she wanted to sit us both down and have a chat about the birds and the bees, that's when it got weird, and I begged her not to. Gio already knew a lot more about sex than I did, even though we were both virgins. The three of us talking would have also been the most embarrassing thing ever.

I had thought—fantasized—about it every day for about a year prior. Everyone was having sex, yet my decision never stemmed from peer pressure.

And when it happened . . .

I didn't think about it at all. It _just_ happened. We got carried away, and before I knew it we were naked, and Gio stopped. He wanted to make sure it was okay.

With a slight nod from me, we made love for the first time. It hurt like hell, and I remember crying after. He was so sweet. Being a computer nerd, he had previously googled some stuff. When we were through, he brought me Advil and gave me sweat pants and said the sweetest things.

Most of all, he told me that he was going to marry me one day, and I was never happier.

When we started senior year, things kind of changed. Gio had a growth spurt over the summer. I remember thinking he grew overnight because he was suddenly so tall. We had long since gotten rid of our braces. And he actually started looking like a man.

He became popular when school started, and his father made him join the football team—get out from behind a computer screen. My mother thought his involvement was cool, too, and tried to get me to join the cheerleading squad. Dad saved me from that—mainly, the short skirt and pom-poms. But I never missed a game, and I certainly never missed all the girls' eyes.

Senior prom, I went with the hottest guy in school—Gio. I wore one of my mother's old gowns—one I had admired all my life and used to try on when she'd leave the house. I had never had the boobs for it, but I finally did that night. I felt so sexy, and yet like a princess in that dark blue, strapless ball gown.

Mom and Dad also gave me my wings that night. They said I could come home in the morning. It was _my_ night, but I noticed Joe—the guy my father assigned to drive and follow us around. I didn't have true freedom; however, it was a lot more slack than I had ever had before.

Gio was named Prom King, and Heather Paccini was named Queen.

I remember watching them dance from the sidelines—the disco ball creating a million small lights while it twirled in the darkness. It wasn't that big a deal, but the fact that Gio's eyes never left mine was.

I couldn't wait to get out of there. AJ rented us a hotel room that we had to keep secret, but I mostly wanted to get Gio away from Heather. She was always so horrible to me—made fun of the way I dressed outside of school, told everyone my father was in the mafia, had the kids call me Kylie Soprano. I was popular in my own right. Everyone knew who I was, and my real friends never judged me or believed her words about my family. Gio used to tell her to shut the fuck up any time she said anything bad.

But she was also the queen of Gio's crowd senior year. I was invited to certain parties because he was. We never went—weren't really allowed to. No one understood our families or lifestyles but each other.

When the song ended, she kissed him, and I froze—thought I was going to vomit right on the spot, and then ran out of the hall. Gio ran after me, and Heather ran after him. She said some horrible things. Gio told her to shut up, kept trying to grab for me when I kept backing away, and then Heather dropped a bomb.

She said she was sorry I had to find out this way—on prom night—that she and Gio had been sleeping together.

Hurt and confused, I sought Joe. I wanted to get out of there.

He was coolly leaning back, smoking a cigarette by the car. I took off for it, nearly stumbling in my heels. Gio caught me before I fell, telling me it wasn't true. Then Joe intervened, told Gio to step back and get his hands off me.

Gio did.

I got in the car and cried the whole way home, only I didn't want to go home. I had Joe drive around for a while. He was a great listener. He gave me some advice, too. He basically said "boys will be boys" and "it happens" and that "it was probably just sex with no meaning". Apparently, when "good girls" like me don't put out, a boy will seek it elsewhere.

Only . . .

I had put out.

And I wanted to hurt Gio just like he hurt me.

What Joe said made sense. I grew up with Sonny and Damion. I knew how guys were. Damion is tamer because of Julie, but Sonny can't say no, and Damion says it takes a strong guy to—because men are idiots.

He told me to always remember that—men are stupid.

Moaning like some slut, but dying on the inside, I had sex with Joe in the backseat of his car that night.

He didn't even notice that I was crying the whole time.

Three days later at graduation, I gave Gio the condom wrapper—said we were even. He wore a blank face, and then he laughed—told me to stop picking up trash off of Sonny's floor.

But I was persistent, urging him to believe me.

His face paled. He called me a whore, pushed past me, and left the school. He left in such a hurry without his parents. And I stood in the hall, stunned.

Ten minutes later, a sobbing mess, I ran out to the car. Joe—who was really my father's driver at the time—let me into the car. He told me I was too beautiful to be crying all the time and handed me a tissue.

After that night, I never saw Gio again. We never crossed paths over the summer. He left for Texas—college—last month without me, which was around the same time I accepted Joe's ring.

"Earth to Kylie!" My mother waved her hand in front of my face.

I smiled, swallowing thickly. "Sorry . . . too much champagne." Lost in thought, I practically guzzled a glass and was currently on my fourth.

My mother took the flute away from me. "Water from now on. We have a big day tomorrow." She gave me that same fake smile.

And it took everything not to cry—cry to Mommy and ask her how I could get out of this.

I know it's hard to believe, but Joe and I have only had sex twice. Once we came out with our relationship, my father had a sneaky way of always being around. He mentioned something about Joe "courting" me, and how if I liked him, I was to go about it the right way—his way—and even my mother couldn't stop him. We had dates, and I had a curfew, and Vito—my new driver—followed me everywhere. We couldn't do anything.

In my father's eyes, Gio was Peto, a boy who was practically his son, but Joe was a man—a creature far too dangerous for me to be alone with until we were married.

_Cue the sarcasm._

"Baby?" She palmed my cheek. "You okay?"

I gritted my teeth and pulled away from the touch that threatened to break me. "I'm fine. Stop asking me that." My heart was already broken, and being mean to her—when I never dared to before—was so easy now. None of it mattered anyway. Joe is my one-way ticket away from her, my father—that house—basically anything that would remind me of Gio.

Mom stiffened, squaring her shoulders. "Have you said hello to your future in-laws?" She raised a brow.

"Of course. They're really nice. I don't know why you don't like them."

"I just don't . . . I never liked Marissa," she laughed. "I'm allowed—Hi! So glad you could make it." She nodded, waving to some people I didn't know. "That's Luke and his wife, Elena," she whispered in my ear. "Smile."

After they embraced my mother, Luke and Elena came over to hug and kiss my cheek, congratulate me, and I still had no idea who they were—Elena looked vaguely familiar, though. I bet she attends those purse parties my mother throws.

When they left, I turned to Mom. "Head of the Jersey family," she whispered.

"Oh . . ." I blinked. "Wow. Why are they here?"

"Out of respect for your father." Mom sipped her wine. "I bet they give you a nice, thick envelope tomorrow."

"Nice." I plastered a grin on my face.

"Have you eaten?" She pinched my belly fat.

"Stop . . . I'm not hungry," I whispered. "Squeezy wedding gown tomorrow, remember?"

She nodded. "Well, try to eat something. The night before my wedding," she giggled, "Oh my gosh . . . I don't remember if I ate or not." She snorted. "But your father surprised me—"

"Are you drunk?" I bumped my hip to hers.

"Not yet, getting there, though." She kissed my cheek and then smeared her lipstick away. "I'll always be on your side, baby girl. You just have to tell me which one."

"Huh?" I raised a brow.

"No matter what you decide to do or don't do . . . Your father and I will always be behind you." She stopped to hold her chest. Then she waved at her face before she started to cry.

"Mom . . ."

"Ignore me. I'm just—Kylie, you're so young."

I groaned. "I'm not doing this now."

She didn't let me get away. She pulled me into her side and leaned into my ear. "You want what your father and I have, and you're going about it wrong. Without passion, you have nothing. If you have to think and talk yourself into going down that aisle . . . if you have to think long or hard about anything, it's wrong. You have to do—do what your heart says." She let me go.

"Mrs. Cullen," Joe greeted her again as he eased behind me.

I frowned, looking down to my shoes again and getting comfortable within his embrace.

"Joseph." Mom smiled. "Excited?"

He nodded, finishing off my glass of bubbly. "You know it." When Mom walked away from us, Joe composed his smile.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing, babe . . . What time is this over?"

I shrugged, gazing out to the party guests. When my eyes landed on Sonny and Damion, they were staring at us. Ignoring them, I just stood there while Joe sent a text message. "Do you really want to marry me?"

"Kylie, don't start—"

"I'm serious," I whispered.

"I love you—"

"But are you _in_ love with me?" I asked, staring up at him.

He grinned. "My feet are toasty warm. I'll be at that altar tomorrow—don't worry." He nipped my lips.

I pulled away fast, smelling and tasting something odd. "You were gone for a while . . ." I was standing lost in thought, drinking champagne for more than a half-hour.

He shrugged. "I had that phone call."

"What'd you eat?" I touched my lips, leaning in because I caught a whiff of perfume, too.

"Nothing. I haven't eaten yet."

"You were with Carli," I said.

"Whoa . . . absolutely not." He gripped my arm. "Don't cause a scene or throw one of your tantrums, got it?"

I pulled my arm away. "Were you?"

"I was on the phone. Go ask those who are still out there." He pointed to the exit.

"Okay. Whatever," I muttered.

"Hi, how ya doin'?" He gave a one-armed hug to my cousin Jasper, who leaned back to smile at us.

"You guys . . . you look great."

I nodded, smiling at my cousin Alice. "How are you?"

"Amazing. I still can't believe _you're_ getting married." She did a little dance, and then hopped up to hug Joe. "God…I feel ancient. And he's so handsome!" She was so excited, she placed kisses along his cheek, and then Jasper pulled her away.

"My wife's been going drink for drink with your mother." Jasper winked.

I laughed, wishing they lived closer. "Did Annie come?" I looked around them.

"No. She, Ricky, and Jacob couldn't get off of work. They'll definitely be here tomorrow." Jasper nodded.

"Great!" I punched the air.

Alice leaned into me. "Tell Joe to go wash up. He smells like pussy," she spoke behind her hand. "You animals. So in love you can't keep your hands off him, huh?"

"What?" I asked.

"Huh?" Jasper asked. No one heard Alice but me.

"Young love." Alice stared at Joe and then to me. "Gah!" Her eyes widened. "So exciting!"

"Yeah," I sighed, studying Joe's stoic face.

"Well, we should catch up later." Jasper ushered her away.

I turned to Joe. "Um—"

His phone rang and he held up a finger.

I fluffed my hair and snatched another glass of champagne off a passing tray. Then I tried to recall the taste of Joe's kiss—the scent of his lips, and I became nauseous. I gulped my drink back, hoping it would wash out my mouth, as tears filled my eyes.

"Whoa . . . you okay?"

"No," I turned, answering Gio. He looked amazing, wearing a suit and standing tall. His short, dark hair was perfectly spiked and his onyx gaze paralyzed me. I couldn't talk or move, only stare. The tears stopped, too, and I was stuck.

"Wow." He eyed me from head-to-toe. "You look . . . you_ look_." He nodded, chuckling awkwardly as his cheeks turned a rosy red. "You look gorgeous."

"Giovanni." I felt Joe stand behind me and place his arm around my waist.

Gio stood at his full height. "Joe . . ." He briefly looked away. "Congratulations." He fiddled with his watch.

"Thanks for coming, man." Joe slapped his hand to Gio's. "Glad we could put past problems to bed. I know Kylie appreciates it." He spoke of me like I wasn't here.

"Do you, Ky?" Gio asked.

A moment passed and then Joe poked my cheek. "Yes," I finally said. "Th-thank you for coming." My eyes were pleading now, wanting so badly to run away, just so I'd have a second to think—process what had happened five minutes before and just . . . Gio.

When Joe's phone rang again, I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Don't answer that." There was a knot in my stomach, and I suddenly couldn't catch my breath.

Joe gave me a look and took the call.

Gio leaned into me, smiling. "Kylie—"

Nervously grinning back, I whispered, "Get me out of here."

He nodded and held out his hand.

And when I took it . . .

When I held his large, warm hand, which engulfed mine with ease, it felt as though an electrical current ran through my arm. With no words to anyone, I silently followed Gio outside. Looking back, everyone was drinking, eating, and talking—and Joe had his back to us.

"Go!" I became even more anxious and pushed Gio the rest of the way out of the restaurant.

He pulled me into him, placing his arm over my shoulder.

And I was home, actually home, a place I missed so much.

The past few months, I'd been at home, but I'd been thinking "I wish I _was_ home", and I'd never known what that meant.

Now, I did.

Gio had always been a part of me—since I was born—and he'd been gone.

"What's going on? Did he do something?" He pointed to the restaurant.

"No . . . yes. I don't know. Where's your car?" I spluttered.

He shook his head, placing his hands in his pockets. "I came with Katie—"

"But she got here like over an hour ago," I said.

He shrugged. "I was—I was out here. I didn't know if I'd be able to say what I have to."

It was hard to swallow as I stepped toward him. "What's that?"

He turned his head, staring up the street. "Well, when I walked in and saw you and him, I was going to say congratulations. You looked happy—I don't know."

"Oh." My shoulders slumped, but then something clicked. Amongst all my thoughts and with everything that had just happened, I had a random thought. I understood something that Miss Smarty-Pants Katie couldn't or wouldn't.

Sonny was never a coward. He did the noble thing—because if Katie was happy with Raul, who the fuck was Sonny to swoop in and make her sad? Fuck up what she had? Maybe it was wrong. Maybe Katie wanted my brother and Sonny just didn't know, which would then make Katie just as wrong as Sonny? After all, she did walk down that aisle and say "I do" and stuff.

"I don't want to make you unhappy. I just—"

Uncle Carlisle left the restaurant with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Knowing they travel in packs, I ducked into a neighboring doorway.

"What?" Gio followed me.

I shook my head.

"Shit," he laughed, stepping up to stand next to me. We had our backs pressed to a door to the apartments above the restaurant. "_Our_ dads' are out here now." He hooked his pinky with mine.

My breath caught and I didn't dare move my hand. "So . . . how's Texas?"

He sucked his teeth. "Texas? Come on."

"Well . . ."

"Well, it sucks without you." He took hold of my whole hand.

I grinned into my shoulder, as I peeked to see our fathers still outside. But then I frowned. "We got each other good, huh?"

"What?" He sounded confused.

"Heather . . . Joe, graduation," I whispered.

"I never slept with Heather."

I stiffened. "But—Gio, you can tell the truth. I'm over it," I said.

"Look at me—"

"No." I didn't want to, or maybe I just couldn't.

"I never slept with her. She wanted to break us up, and I couldn't believe she did. _Us_." He squeezed my hand.

"Me neither."

"You're my best friend, Ky." I felt him step closer, if that was possible.

I squinted, staring at the concrete frame next to me, trying to swallow and trying to keep the tears at bay. "But I hurt you." My voice broke. "I was stubborn. I wouldn't take your calls. I wouldn't listen. I slept with . . . I _did_ sleep with Joe," I cried. "And then you disappeared."

"I know," he whispered, "and now you're . . . Please, don't. Even if it'll never be me, don't marry him—not him. I can't say congratulations, sit back and do nothing while you're—"

"It'll never be you, huh?" I snorted, wiping my eyes and leaving the doorway. Not caring who saw me, I still needed to get away and turned the corner.

"Kylie!"

I walked faster.

"Ky, stop!" I heard rapid, heavy footfalls behind me. "Christ." Gio pulled my arm, making me face him. "You didn't listen to me before. Remember prom night? You were so fucking hardheaded," he shouted. "Just take a minute and think!" He pointed to his temple.

My lip quivered and I bit it down.

"Joe is a piece-of-shit." He held my hand. "You deserve better, Kylie. I wasn't going to tell you because I thought you'd think I was just saying it to hurt you. I was going to tell my father . . . or tell Dame and Ant, and we'd jump him later," he laughed.

I swallowed down my tears. "What? I don't understand."

"The doorway we were just standing in?" he asked. "I stood there for an hour—I saw some things, like, Joe and Carli sneaking into a backseat."

"I—" I slumped my shoulders. For some reason, hearing that didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it should, and it didn't surprise me. "I miss you." I choked on a sob.

"What?" He grinned. "Now _I'm_ confused."

"I said that I miss you." I held my belly in place.

He reached out to wipe under my nose, and I realized I was probably a mess. "Why are you determined on turning into the one thing you swore you never would?"

I didn't have an answer for him right away. It took me a second. "My mother . . . she's pretty wonderful. I spent a lot of time with her over the summer, even though I didn't make it easy. If I turned into half the woman, wife, mother she is—"

"And marrying Joe is going to make that happen?"

"I—" I had no idea what to say.

"We were going to get away from here." His eyes were glassy. "Start our lives close by enough because they mean so much, but maintain our distance from our families."

"I screwed it all up." I shrugged, slapping my hands down on my hips. "I am so sorry—you're better, you deserve better than me." I pointed to myself. "Your dad, your family is great, and kind of functional, even if your parents are divorced."

"Kylie," he shook his head, "my dad was never home. Your parents practically raised me—if I wasn't being shipped off to my mother or coming back. What are you talking about?"

"They're—they're not weird or whatever." I was stuck again, rethinking what I'd just said again, knowing I was making excuses _again_, while also knowing Gio's words to be true. "God, I _am_ stupid—"

"Don't say that. You've always had issues with common sense."

I kept going. "I was so hurt—wanted to hurt you, which I did, and . . . I hurt myself even more. The shit I put my parents through…I've been spreading my misery since you left." I palmed my forehead, hating that I also openly admitted that. "I'm just—"

"They'll forgive you," he whispered.

"Joe was there for me. He cared, and I thought—well, at first I thought he was great. He was mature, and then, and then he asked me to marry him. What was I supposed to say?" My face crumbled. "He got on one knee and everything."

Gio chuckled through his tears. "No? You could have said no."

He made me laugh with that one and smack his arm.

"I'm not better than you, Kylie." He placed his arms around me, and I held my breath—wanting somehow to freeze this moment as I cried into his chest. "It was a long summer, and this last month dragged . . . I didn't sleep with Heather, but I was miserable like you, and we weren't together." He sniffed my hair and sighed. "Lavender. Every time I smell it, I think of you. It's my favorite scent."

I hugged him tighter and my chest ached at the thought of letting him go.

"My new roommate . . . we partied, I slept around, trying to forget you. When I heard you were getting married . . . Christ, Kylie. I thought I'd hold off until winter break, and then seek you out. I didn't think—I thought you'd break up with him, never thought you'd go through with it, and then I find out you're getting married so soon. I called . . . not your cell, but I spoke to your dad."

I didn't say anything, wanting him to kidnap me or something.

"If, if you don't want me, I understand. You moved on—"

"No!" I shouted. "How can you forgive me?"

He leaned away. "It's not about forgiving you, which . . . I've already done—"

"Me, too." Whether he slept with Heather or didn't, which I am now starting to believe, I'd let go of that anger.

Because being with him—being his friend—was so much more important.

And being with him, regardless of what he did or didn't do, was better than being without him.

And if he could forgive me—still love me regardless of what I'd done, I'd know he was the one.

"It hurts too much to be away from you." He smiled. "You're my best friend."

"You're mine, too." I took in a shaky breath.

"What about Joe?" He pushed my hair away from my face.

I grinned, holding his hand to my cheek. "Carli can have him."

Gio laughed. "I—Kylie, I love you . . . always have."

I nodded. "I love you, too."

He bent low to gently place his lips to mine, and that wasn't enough for me. Overcome with joy, I practically crawled up his body—latched on like some lunatic. It wasn't something I had to think about. It was a natural response. Deepening our kiss, making it sloppy and heart stopping, wasn't something we had to try for either.

It just happened.

I was home—where I was supposed to be.

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts. **_


	4. The Skip

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**WTS kid pics (The kids all grown up/what they look like/how I see them) are now on my blog. Please follow the link at the bottom of my profile. Or go to: sexylexcullen dot blogspot dot com**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Four: The Skip**

**O**ddly enough, I wasn't disappointed with Kylie for taking off with Peto. Fuck. I planned it that way and knew it would happen. My wife, after all this time, still likes to bet against me; I wish she wouldn't.

While Bella went around to tell some people—make the announcement—I pulled Aro into the office behind the kitchen. Carlisle and Caius followed, but I closed and locked the door on them.

I was so excited that I let out a small squeak as I turned to my best friend.

"What was that noise?" Aro looked around. "Is there a mouse?" He peeked under the desk.

"Fuck you." Alas, I was still excited and made the sound again, smiling the widest I ever had. "Kylie and Peto just took off—together." I covered my mouth with my hand.

"What?"

"I saw them when we were coming back inside." I rushed out.

Aro placed his hands on my biceps. "Yo, for real? It worked?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice, not sure if I'd be able to contain myself.

"Yes!" he shouted.

Then we jumped for joy, too wrapped up in the moment, like two pussies who'd just won the lottery.

"Skip?" Caius knocked.

"Get the fuck away from the door!" I barked.

"Geez . . ." I heard Caius comment.

"Really?" Aro asked.

"Uh-huh!" I squealed again. "My baby girl is going off to college!"

"What about Joe?" he whispered.

"What _about_ Joe?" I shrugged. "I'll give him a couple dollars, a bump up or something. He'll be fine. Forget about it . . . he couldn't even handle my daughter. She left, and he didn't say a fucking word. What kind of man lets his fiancée do that?" I spoke with my hands.

Aro pursed his lips. "Having you as a father-in-law wasn't going to be some picnic."

"Fuck it . . . let's go get a drink or something, celebrate."

"It's on." He gave me a one-armed hug, and we left the office.

Life as I know it has calmed down immensely over the years. The biggest problems I have—what I love to focus on—are my children, the things they get into. I look out for all three of them. I know exactly what they're doing, and I make sure to keep Bella in the loop, although she sometimes informs me. And business? Well, that has become so fucking easy. There are still risks, but it has become like second nature—nearly automatic—and a slip is not possible. I won't let it happen.

First, nothing is conducted in my home. It's been that way for years, ever since my children started to grow, become nosy, and understand things. I couldn't have any of that shit around them, which worked out for the best because now Bella and I aren't scrambling when we hear about the Feds coming to pay us a visit. It still happens every now and then, and we don't have to hide much—just a few weapons that even if they found couldn't do much damage to us in the long run. I gotta protect my crib, and I have the right to bear arms. But not having to double check and watch my ass as much as I used to has made everything simpler.

Now, I'm just always on the move, although I don't have to be.

People move for me—people will _bring_ the mountain to _me_.

However, I just can't spend THAT much time at home. I'm there a lot more often than I was back in the day, but yeah. I can't just sit on my ass with my hand wide open. I gotta make appearances and have sit-downs, and . . .

Life is just good . . . very good, now that my daughter won't be marrying that mamaluke.

My only business- and personal-life problem, come in the form of my bruisers—Sonny and Damion.

I know I have a sit-down with the both of them later this week. Sonny thinks he's so fucking slick, letting his brother do hits. Well, Georgie spilled the beans real quick when Aro questioned him. All my buddy had to do was ask. Georgie almost pissed his fucking pants and gave Dame and Sonny up so fast.

That can be a good and bad thing. Either young Georgie folds under the pressure of anyone, or Aro and I put the fear of God into him. It wasn't the worst thing—him telling Aro—as we keep the secret, but there are no secrets to be held from me.

He did the right thing, yet I can't risk Georgie telling anyone else about Damion.

Georgie has to go.

Nevertheless, I'm impressed and a little disheartened by the whole situation.

Damion was the good one, although he's frightened me since he was a child. I just always thought he'd be gay, not enjoy clipping motherfuckers. By societal standards, the latter is worse. Yeah, you can do life in prison or get the death penalty because of it, if you're not careful. But if he's half as good as me . . . fuck. He's actually so much like me it's scary. He looks like me, acts like me, but I never did that dress-up shit—never needed a song and dance to get the job done, just a dollar amount or a reason.

Damion also doesn't "hit" on women. He watches—lets them come to him—and that's not something I ever showed him—it wasn't something he saw me do. That's got to be genetic or a part of some characteristic we share. It's not like I'm out looking for pussy.

Sonny, on the other hand, is business-savvy. He's always elbow-deep in this or that, making fast money in ways I never thought of. And broads? Forget about it. He's actually not that complex. My oldest is a lot like Carlisle, but he's not as stupid. He reminds me of a younger Carlisle—shaky trigger finger and whatnot. He doesn't like to clip motherfuckers, at all, which is not a bad thing—just hard not to do when in this line of work.

However, we all branch out. We all get others to do our bidding. I do, but I never did when I was Sonny's age. I wished he'd finally take the bar exam and get his ass out of that fucking club. He's the only lawyer in the family besides Carlisle and me.

My father is retired. Lizzie went to law school, but then married some Limey fuck from across the pond. She lives in London, and my father spends half the year there with her and her family. She has one daughter and doesn't give a fuck about being a lawyer anymore. Her husband is some well-to-do BBC reporter.

Sonny will inherit the firm when we're all dead. It's logical—only lawyer gets the firm.

Hopefully with some time, his whole heart will be in the thing, but until then, I guess I have to get used to Damion picking up the slack. If he wants, Damion can get his button. God knows he's made his bones—if everything I think and have heard, is true. He'll have our protection, which will benefit all of us if he's going to be as involved as he is. Damion and I will have to talk, as some of the shit he does just doesn't make any sense to me—it scares me. He's going to school to be a doctor.

Healing and killing don't exactly go hand-in-hand. It's apples and oranges, unless he thinks he's God or some shit.

What the fuck? I didn't know whether to give him a button or fit him for a fucking straitjacket. Fuck disheartened, inside this shit was freaking me out, and there was no way in fucking hell that I could confer with Bella on this one.

She'd _try_ to divorce me or kill me.

When he said he wanted to be a doctor, I was proud and afraid _for_ him. People die and shit, and I always thought—deep down—that Dame was our moosh-monster. I always thought his cold side was a show for me, because everything else he used to be into was just a little bit girly. I don't know. That could have also been because of Anthony. They always did weird shit together.

I mean, when he was a teenager, he changed. It had been happening slowly, but he fully transformed when he was thirteen. And each time some shit popped off and the kids had to hide away, Damion would become just a little bit colder, more distant—shy and secluding himself.

When Rocky died, Sonny and Kylie cried, and Damion . . . For all I know, he wanted to dissect the fucking family dog, but he didn't do anything. He told Kylie death was a part of life and to get over herself.

Kylie was seven.

But I remember Sonny telling Damion some shit like that when he was eight or so—when Sonny was shot.

And I remember learning about that harsh reality—that part of life—when I was eleven.

After my mother passed, death didn't mean shit. It was nothing. I was hurt as much as anyone could ever be hurt. Well, at that time I was, but we heal, we move on, and Damion hasn't exactly lived yet . . .

What's he done? Gone to school, screw that chubby goth chick in our basement, and . . . play multiple practical jokes? He hasn't done shit—not-a-damn-thing. And he only thinks he loves Julie because he can't shake that habit, only trying to hold onto things, find that deep meaningful connection. Why can't he just be like Sonny?

Maybe when he finds something that means something to him…

If he's like me—if we have the same fucked-up-ness—then he's not sick. He's just like me, which I cannot explain. I am who I am, and Damion is not me, but I can relate.

"What the fuck is your problem?" The man in question was moping by the bathrooms.

He gave me those attitude-problem peepers, those Manson lamps, his serial killer glare. It's actually funny as fuck, but it scares the shit out of Sonny, and I know that look all too well.

"What?" I flinched toward him.

"Nothing," he said.

Then the door to the ladies' room opened and Alex came out. She bumped right into Damion. "What—shit, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's cool." My son ran out of the hall.

Alex fixed her hair. "Is he okay?"

"I—I have no idea," I hated to admit that.

"I think it's school." She nodded. "He talked my ear off all about it. I mean, I haven't heard so much from him since," she laughed, "since he was a kid."

I smiled. "Right. School." Damion was still staring at me, while trying to be slick about it.

"He says he's crazy busy and that girlfriend—what's her name?"

"Julie," I rolled my eyes, wondering what the fuck Damion was really moody about.

"Yeah, she doesn't understand," she giggled. "He wishes she was more like me."

I shook my head. "Do me a favor and just . . ."

"Mind my business?" She winced, and I knew she was drunk. She, Bella, and Alice were guzzling the wine like there was going to be a shortage.

"No, just—" I couldn't put my finger on what I wanted to tell her. The way Damion was looking at the both of us now, I'd say he was interested. Interested in what, I had no idea. His stare—it was almost like zeroing in on the mark, or an animal trying to imprint. I understood it more than I could explain it, which is how it goes when it comes to explaining Damion's behavior. I understand it all. "Keep your distance. He's a man now, and youse two being so close—"

"He's my nephew." Alex hit my arm.

I sighed, not saying more about it. After all, I could be wrong—highly doubtful that Damion would mac on his uncle's wife.

Alex proved to be a cool chick—very loyal to both Bella and Carlisle, and she always looked after all our kids, although she started out immature, she turned into a decent mom—a great mother and wife.

"Don't stress," she laughed. "When they're babies it's so hard . . . But if we knew then what we know now, right? Babies are easier. Watching your babies grow up and having real life problems—stresses and stuff—that's the hard part." She frowned, walking toward me. "You know about Anthony?"

"I do," I whispered. "Carlisle doesn't—not that I know of."

"But you'd defend Ant if you had to—if Carlisle wanted to disown him?"

"He wouldn't," I said.

"If it was _your_ son . . ." She trailed off.

I huffed, looking up to the ceiling and leaning on the payphone. "Look, when Bella was pregnant, when they were babies, I never prayed to God and said, 'I hope they eat pussy'." I laughed and so did she. "I always hoped they'd be happy, and healthy, and smart. And my brother is a lot more understanding than I am. Honestly, I think you and Ant need to have more faith in him." I eyed her to gauge her reaction. She really needs to trust my brother more.

"Right." She looked down.

"I always thought Dame was going to be…" I wiggled my hand.

"He's not," she laughed.

"He ask for a peep show, too?" I reminded myself to tease Sonny about that later on.

"Not at all. Dame and Ant are always hanging out in my basement, and your son has some mouth." She raised a brow. "He may not use it often in mixed company, but when those two get going…" She shook her head. "Dame tells him nasty stories that Ant can pass off as his when he's talking to Carlisle. Ant's going above and beyond with this farce, and it breaks my heart. Anthony shouldn't have to do that out of fear of losing his family."

I nodded.

"We all talk, too, sometimes. Dame's quiet, but…he's gotta be the sweetest, honest-to-God normal-est, person in this family." She pursed her lips, looking to her feet. "He's a lot like you in some ways—the eyes. They may not be the same color, but they pull you. When you look into them, you get stuck and—"

I smiled. "You think I'm sweet? When d'ju stop fearing me?"

"I never said _you_ were sweet. He gets that from Bella." She shook her head. "What's with you men? With the egos and the compliments—" Alex just walked away from me, and I was confused.

"What about his eyes?"

Alex never replied, and then I laughed when her drunk ass bumped into Damion again. It wasn't her fault. That dumbass—either to fuck with her or whatever—walked right in front her. She swatted him with her purse before he just walked away.

Shaking my head because we are a motley crew, I met up with my wife. She wore a bright smile, and I placed my arm around her. "Are people leaving?" It looked less crowded.

She shrugged. "People ate . . . the couple called off the wedding and left." She looked around. "I told most to go ahead—you wouldn't care."

I grinned, stealing a sip of her wine. "Are we having people at the house?"

"Fuck, no." She covered her mouth with her hand. "Sorry," she giggled. "I mean—"

"I don't care." I gently kissed her temple. "You look gorgeous." I took in her form-fitting black gown. "Goddamn." I wanted two handfuls of ass.

She leaned into me, biting her lip. "You want more, huh?"

I raised a brow. "You know I'm a greedy fucker—I want it all."

Her smile widened. "Later . . . What were you talking to Alex about?"

"Damion and Anthony, actually. I think homeboy's thinking about coming out? I don't know."

"It's about time. It's not like being a Democrat or a Republican. You're born that way," she laughed. "Fuck, I'm drunk."

"You are," I agreed. "And you're beautiful." I was so happy. With the way things worked out today—so perfect and all—should I really stress about anything else? Truthfully, wrapping this day up with Bella—home alone for a bit—never sounded so good.

"Thanks, Mr. FuckHot." She pulled on my tie. "Kiss me."

I complied, biting her lower lip. "You taste good."

"Yeah," she sighed. "Oh, um, before I forget…Alex is going to fake a headache, so Carlisle has to go home."

I laughed. "The both of you with the scheming…fucking Lucy and Ethel."

"It's not a scheme," she whispered. "She wants to fuck her husband, not get whatever leftover wood he has from Eclipse. I heard the boys. That party is still on. You know?"

I shrugged. "If she's sick, he'll go home. I won't have to say anything." My brother hovers, still caters to Alex. When Bella asked me that wild shit before, I honestly didn't have an answer for her, but I highly doubt my brother is sleeping with someone else. His sun still rises and sets with her. She's his Bella, and he's not dumb enough to fuck that shit up.

I don't know what his deal is, but I know he doesn't enjoy going home. He might tonight, since the twins are with Ronnie and Karen. It's fucked up but not—at the same time. He didn't want any more kids. My brother wanted to focus on the ones they had, so they could live their lives together—be as a couple. Before she got pregnant with them, my brother asked me for time away and if we'd keep an eye on their fifteen-year-old, Eddie. He wanted to take Alex on a trip around the world.

She wanted more kids instead.

It's selfish. I know he loves them, but it's not her, it's the kids and himself. And I don't fully understand his line of reasoning either.

Sure. He's going to be fifty-four and has two ball-busting toddlers, but…

Who am I kidding? I'd shoot myself if Bella got pregnant now, or if we had two four-year-olds running around like maniacs.

Okay, so I can understand.

It's quiet at his office. At Eclipse, the drinks flow and he can actually relax. It's like a second home.

"He's not cheating on her," I said.

Bella's eyes widened. "He has ED like your dad did, doesn't he?" Her smile lit up the fucking room. "Serves him right…nasty ass for all those years."

I laughed, but pinched her ass. "Stop."

"Oh, now I feel bad."

"Don't." I kissed her hair. "There's medication for that shit, and—I don't know dick about that. We don't talk about his cock."

"Word…" She played with my tie. "Sonny's being weird."

"Sonny?" I nodded, wondering when my children _weren't_ being weird. "He's just—it's that giving his work to others shit. He thinks I'm mad." That sounded like his deal.

"But you can't be mad. He's supposed to delegate, just—like—you." She poked my chest, emphasizing her words. "'Supposed to'."

"Yeah." I nodded. "Let's wrap this up, so we can get going."

"Oh my God, yes."

We broke away to schmooze, as Bella calls it.

**/=/=/**

**S**onny and his chick, Damion, Aro, and Carlisle followed us back to the house. Alex must not be a great actress because she went home and Carlisle didn't follow, and Aro said something about Lisa actually having a headache. Now their union, I don't get, but I respect it.

My buddy took Lisa to Hawaii—took her on Carlisle and Alex's honeymoon—and they came back married. They never had more kids. I know Aro was open to it, but Lisa wasn't. She never wanted kids, content to play mom when she needed to for Katie, AJ, and Peto, I guess. Lisa and Aro both work a lot, are still in love, and their arrangement works well.

The boys wanted to stay in the city, but Bella has a way of keeping them in check. She told them they had to come home. I gave them a look; they complied, and here we all are—one big happy family, except for Kylie.

I'll give her until ten, and then Bella or I will be calling her cell phone. She knows she has to be home by eleven.

We lounged around the living room, talking casually, as Sonny and that broad fought out on the lawn.

"You think she'll smack him?" Carlisle asked.

We were all openly staring out the bay window at them.

"I don't know," I said.

"I'll kick her ass if she does—touch my baby." Bella went to leave my lap.

"Easy, Tyson." I held her in place.

Damion snorted. "He screwed Nunzio's daughter at the restaurant. He took Lori, and then . . . "

I chuckled, as did Aro and Carlisle.

"That's not funny," Bella said, looking around to us all. "God . . . my son is a whore. It's your fault!" She threw a pillow at my brother.

"That's not my fault," he protested.

"Watch your tone." I pointed at him, drink in hand.

He sat back, blowing out a breath. "He's young—a good-looking kid." Carlisle nodded. "He gets a lot of pussy, so what?…_Salute_." He tipped his drink back, while I laughed and wanted to give him a fist pound.

"_Salute_?" Bella asked. "Ah—_Salute_, you, motherfucker." She gave him the finger.

"Oh!" We all shouted, staring at Bella.

"Relax." I chuckled, kissing her cheek.

"I'm sorry." She covered her mouth. "I'm sorry." She looked to Carlisle.

He tipped his head to her, not fazed since he knows how she gets.

We all shared a laugh, and then we all shouted, "Oh!" again, witnessing Lori smack Sonny's cheek. She hit him so hard, we almost heard it in the house.

"That bitch!" Bella shrieked.

"Ma, relax—for real," Damion told her. "He gets smacked by different women daily—he can take it." He guzzled his beer.

"Slow down," I commented. "Since there's no wedding, you can't miss classes tomorrow. Don't you have a Saturday lab or something?"

"No, I have a clinical rotation—supposed to spend the day in the hospital—but they already excused my absence for the day," he said.

Bella nodded. "Stay the night, and we'll have someone drive you into the city tomorrow. Fuck, stay here tomorrow, too." She beamed at him. "Then you can stay Sunday as well. Did you bring your laundry home?"

Damion widened his arms. "I'm almost twenty-five years old."

I grinned. "You'll always be Mommy's baby."

"Awww." Aro reached over to pinch his cheek. "You were such a cute fucking kid. What happened?"

"Grew up," Dame muttered.

I nodded, digging his short response.

"How's school going?" my brother asked. "Third year—you're into it now, huh? Diagnosing and whatnot?"

"Third year," Dame confirmed, sucking down his Heineken. "I'm not doing much just yet—"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

His brows rose and he sighed, and I bet he wanted to roll his eyes.

"Don't do that," I laughed. "Don't act like I'm asking for the impossible here. I'd…just like to know more about you, what you do." It was a bit embarrassing, putting it that way, but I wasn't about to sit here and have him treat us like we were a bunch of idiots—talk to us like we're stupid. "We don't know what it's like for you. None of us went to med school. We're asking you to tell us."

"Shit…I took the bar exam at your age." Carlisle smiled.

"Me too." I knocked my fist to his. "Becoming a doctor . . . that's just too much school."

"I always wanted to be a doctor." My brother wore a frown.

"I wanted to be a therapist, or a pro ball player," Aro said.

"I wanted . . . Well, I wanted to be a lot of things," Bella whispered.

"You _are_ a lot of things—a lot of wonderful things. You got that?" I planted a loud kiss on her neck, which made her giggle. "Go on," I told our son.

Damion nodded.

"I'd also like to know where my money's going." I shrugged.

"Edward." Bella hit my thigh. "Go on. We're listening." She leaned toward Dame. "Tell Mommy about school."

"Bella." Aro had a tone, and then we all laughed—except Damion, of course.

"All right." He nodded. "The best way to put it…" he paused, "I want you all to think about flying a plane—"

"What?" Aro looked confused.

Dame grinned. "Just…hear me out." When none of said any more, he continued. "Learning to fly . . . Imagine that for the past six years I've been learning from a manual. I've taken and passed the necessary sciences, all my major classes and electives, which gave me the tools—the vocabulary and grammar of medicine, if you will."

We all nodded him along.

"Now—in my third year—I'm doing clinical rotations. All of which means I'm now learning how to fly from the cockpit. I'm shadowing residents, actual doctors, and they're teaching me. Every two months, I'll be transferred to a different specialty, all while I'm still taking courses. It's a heavy mixture of both."

"So—" Carlisle started. "You've learned how to be a doctor on paper, and now you're being taught in the field?"

"Yes," Dame said.

"Uh, son?" I chuckled. "You could have just said that . . . Who understood that last bit more than that other shit?"

When all of us raised our hands, Damion cracked a smile. "Sorry."

"Don't be." I smiled right back. "Thank you for sharing with us."

"What else is going on…besides Julie?" Bella asked, and we all stared at Damion.

He opened his mouth to speak with half a grimace now. "Uh, nothing, um . . ."

"You guys still planning on hanging at the club?" Carlisle asked him, thus saving him from elaborating, which wasn't cool. I would have enjoyed hearing more about Damion's life.

"You're disgusting!" My wife had a few too many, and when she does, her true feelings come to surface. Everyone knows that, and we were all relaxed tonight—no cares in the world, which wasn't too difficult for me, regardless of all the concerns I truly have—so my brother was right in just ignoring her again.

"I love you," I whispered, pecking her neck. "I love it when you let go and relax." My wife hardly ever gets to let her hair down anymore, metaphorically speaking—not that she ever really did. Seeing my Bebella so carefree made me stress less.

She giggled, forgetting about Carlisle, but looked right at Damion. "I never liked Julie." She slurred a little. "Your match is out there—just not her. I hoped you and Bianca would talk, maybe set up a date . . ." Bella trailed off, and Damion left the room. "What'd I say?" she hollered.

My head—or mainly my ear—jerked away from her mouth. "Nothing, baby."

"I invited Amelia for dinner tomorrow," she said. "Maybe they'll ….you know?" She wiggled her brows.

Amelia is Luke's twenty-one-year old daughter from a relationship he had before he met his wife. She was going to accompany them tonight, so she could meet Damion and Sonny, but something came up. She's pre-med, on her way to becoming a doctor, too.

It's been Bella's plan for weeks. She and Elena concocted some plan because my wife adores Amelia and would love to have her as a daughter-in-law. I honestly don't even think Bella cares which one of our sons Amelia hits it off with. I've been leaning toward Dame, since they'd obviously have more in common, and Sonny won't be interested unless he can hit it and run. And he knows better than to do that shit to Luke's daughter, no matter who Sonny is.

Then Bella gasped. "Maybe Sonny is really into Bianca?"

Aro and Carlisle laughed. "If he hit it in the bathroom . . . I mean." My brother winced. "I think he just wanted to do what he did and move on."

"Nasty!" Bella waved a finger.

I grabbed her hand. "Stop."

"It'd be awesome, though, right?" She craned her neck to see me. "Bianca and Sonny. Damion and Amelia. Kylie and Peto…sitting in a tree K.I.S.S.I.N.G," she laughed, doing a little shimmy.

"Ha ha." I shook my head.

Bella shrugged and poured herself some more wine—not that she needed it.

Aro stood from the couch. "I should get going. Lisa is probably wondering what's taking me so long." He buttoned his jacket, and I wasn't sure why he came through anyway. "If they come here first or something, call me. Peto is supposedly staying at Katie's." He rolled his eyes. "That was before, though."

We waved as he let himself out of the house, and Sonny came back in. Their shoulders brushed and they each threw a glare at the other. Their problems stem from Katie, or mainly Aro walking in on my son while he fucked his married daughter a few months ago. Serves my buddy right for not knocking, but to top it all off, Katie was at Eclipse—in the office, a place where Aro himself bagged quite a few broads. If they're not working together or have a common goal, they usually avoid each other, yet get along for "the most part".

"Everything okay?" Bella asked Sonny.

"Yeah." He looked down on his luck. "She never cared before . . . whatever."

"You mean, you've never been caught," Carlisle laughed, and I joined him. "You have a lot to learn."

"We weren't exclusive." Sonny shrugged, his stance going back to not giving a fuck. "And I know enough." He playfully punched Carlisle's shoulder.

"He's not learning anything from you, nasty!" Bella pointed an accusatory finger at my brother.

"Just stop," Carlisle laughed. "What'd I do this time? What's got you hating me suddenly, B?"

Bella guzzled her wine, groaning a bit through loud sips and shaking her head.

"You're not going to tell me?" Carlisle asked.

"Just—" I started.

"You've gone back to the dark side, haven't you?"

"Uh—" Carlisle was confused. "What?"

"Haven't. You?" Bella shouted, sounding like a demon on crack or something.

"Christ." I hissed, holding her to me tightly. First it's the words and then the fists. She might have started swinging. I wasn't sure. "Calm down . . . I told you before he wasn't," I whispered that last part, and she did visibly relax—nut job.

"I forgot," she sighed.

"Forgot what?" Confused or not, Carlisle still found this hilarious.

"You're never home." Damion was lurking by the entrance. "Mom probably thinks you're doing Alex dirty."

"Never." My brother was fast to say. "I hung up my pimp hat a long time ago."

I just shook my head at him—poor choice of words, you know?

"Pimp hat." Sonny gave him a fist pound.

"That what she told you?" Carlilse hollered over to Damion. "I know youse two talk." He looked to me. "The three of them—Ant, Dame, and Alex—those party animals have movie nights."

I grinned, thinking that was cute, although lame for two dudes in their twenties.

"We do talk," Dame admitted, and then he was ghost again—left our sight.

"Well?" Bella asked. "Care to explain?" Her arm moved with a flourish, and she spilled wine onto the carpet. "My bad—thank God it's white."

I chuckled and kissed her temple. "You're too fucking cute." My hand roamed higher on her thigh. "Youse should take off—do whatever."

"_He_ needs to go home . . ." Bella stared at my brother, "but tell me why you're never there first." She leaned forward, eager and as nosy as ever.

Sonny scooted closer and tried to pry the glass out of Bella's hand. "_You_ should go to bed."

"Beat it." I smacked his hand away. "Drink up, baby," I told her. "I happen to love it when my Bebella is drunk." So I was feeling a bit tipsy, too. It was cause for celebration when Kylie and Joe called off the wedding.

Sonny frowned; over the years he has developed quite the attachment to his mother. Like me, he practically obeys her every command. "Mom, you okay?"

"Yes. My God." She sucked down her last bit of wine. "You're my kid. I tell _you_ what to do, mister!"

I hugged her to me. "Baby, why don't you go lie down," I whispered. "Wait for me—run the Jacuzzi." I winked at my son.

He made a face at me like we were gross or something, yet I can hear all about his sex life. Asshole.

Bella nodded. "I am kind of tired." She fluffed her hair, whipping my face in the process.

"Yeah, you're done." I nodded, too, helping her up when she left my lap. When I had ushered her a few paces away, I turned back to my son. "Don't go anywhere." I still wanted to talk to him and his brother.

"What?" Bella shouted.

"Nothing." I kissed her cheek, escorting her the rest of the way to our bedroom. Bella was fine and said she'd call me if she needed anything, but insisted I wake her when Kylie got home. That was news to me. I thought she was down to fool around. I'll have to call Vito—Kylie's driver—to find out exactly where she and Peto ran off to. Before I informed Bella and Aro what'd gone down, I told Vito to follow them.

When Bella put on regular pajamas—the flannel kind—and didn't even look at the hot tub, I knew she was going to pass out.

"What happened to waiting up for me? Uh, did you want another drink?"

"Are—are you gonna go out?" she asked. "You can, I mean…" She was about to doze off. "Chill with Sonny and Dame. I'm sure you'd like to spend time with Damion," Bella sighed.

I shook my head, covering her with the comforter. "I hadn't planned on it." The younger generation, especially my sons, can't party like it's going out of style while the Skip/Dad is around. I feel bad since I'm there when I'd rather be home anyway—leaving them to their vices.

I've partied with Sonny before. We've gone drink for drink, shared a joint, and maybe we've hit the yak together too. He's more of a peer now, a friend—if I dare say—and we just get along really well. We're one and the same.

Sadly, I don't know Damion at all in that capacity. Not that recreational drug use with my kids is a bonding tool—fuck, no—but we usually don't get past the realm of small talk, although I have insight into what he's doing.

"Good . . . stay home for Kylie in case she wants to talk—not that she will, but I don't know what state of mind she'll be in." She shot up to rub her face. "Make a pot of coffee. I can't sleep knowing she—"

"Shhh." I gently brought her back down. "I'll make sure she's okay. If she needs to or wants to talk…I'll send her in here. Sound cool?" I grinned.

Bella's lip quivered and tears filled her eyes. "She hates me . . . Edward, all I want is for her to be happy."

"She doesn't hate you." I bit her nose. "Never."

Bella sniffled. "She does . . . The way she looks at me—and I've always tried so much harder with her. Growing up, I always wished I had someone, so…I made sure to always be here, to always listen, and never judge her, Sonny, or Dame. But it's hard . . ." She hiccupped. "You know? To love someone and watch them hurt, and watch them make mistakes, and they won't talk to you or try to fix it themselves . . . What did I do?"

I sighed. "Nothing. Baby, you did nothing wrong. _She's_ wrong." It angered me that Kylie made Bella feel this way, inept and less than, just because our daughter couldn't get her act together. "You guys always got along before—"

"She was my best friend . . . and then, and then . . . Joeeee," she sobbed. "That's why we had to let her go through the motions. That's why we _had_ to actually plan this wedding. We would—we could have lost her."

I snorted. "No."

She sucked her teeth. "You'd hunt her down, make her stay with us—make her let us be in her life? Edward, it's _her_ life."

"Yes—no—I don't know." I shrugged. "I'd cut her ass off. Let's see her be hip with no funds," I laughed, but Bella didn't. "I'd never do that, okay?"

She nodded. "I'm just—"

"You're worried, but you shouldn't be. So, she's confused . . . She left with Peto, the wedding is obviously off . . . They'll talk, she'll come home, and, hopefully, tomorrow things will go back to normal."

"I hope so."

I looked to my watch. "She'll be home in an hour or so. If you're up to it, we should all sit and talk."

Bella smiled. "Maybe she won't come home at all—spend some time with Peto."

"Stop." I left the bed to take off my jacket. "She'll cool down and come home."

"Peto looked amazing in that suit." She hit me with her toe.

"You're buggin', drunk." I nodded. "Maybe Peto threw a wrench in those wedding plans, but—"

"Just don't freak if she doesn't come home or's late," she slurred, turning over. "Make sure she's safe and leave her be, I guess. I—I dunno."

"Go to sleep." And that was that. I didn't want to hear any more of that, and I left our bedroom. I was about to text Kylie, but then remembered our sons.

"You two—" I pointed to them. "Have a seat."

They looked at each other, to their uncle, and then to me.

"Sit," I said.

They complied, sitting nearly thigh-to-thigh on the sofa. "Everything okay?" Sonny asked, biting his lip—a nervous habit he picked up from his mother years ago.

I shrugged. "You tell me . . . What's going on with you two? I don't wanna hear about broads or petty shit . . . Start with Isaac, tell me about him. What happened at the Diamond District earlier today?" I sat back, staring at them.

"Where's Aro?" Sonny asked.

"You two don't get along," I laughed, "But yes, he's definitely the lesser of two evils . . . You know me. You know everything is cool as long as you come clean."

"That's true." Carlisle nodded.

"You know what—" I put my hand up, seeing Bella cross the hall in her pajamas. There was no way I'd risk her hearing any part of this conversation. "Save it for the sit-down. We'll talk tomorrow after dinner. Make sure you _both_ come through." I looked to Dame. He'll likely go back to the dorms tonight since he'll already be in Manhattan.

Sonny and Damion exchanged a look.

"If you guys are going out tonight," I leaned forward to see if I could spy Bella, "go now before your mother gets her second wind." Maybe my wife likes having a full house, but I honestly didn't give a fuck. She also blames our recent increased sexual appetite on that bullshit, but that's not true either. I'll fuck her whenever the opportunity presents itself—that has never changed.

Personally, I was looking forward to that second wind.

Sonny hit Damion's arm. "Let's go."

"Dad—" Damion looked like he had something to say as he leaned toward me.

"Come on." Sonny pulled him up, and then they rapidly left the house.

"Be here for dinner tomorrow . . . it's not a request." I waved a hand, hoping they'd heard me.

Carlisle was grinning when I looked back to him. "That was us," he mused, "to a T." He shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "Still can't help but see them all as kids, though."

"I know," I whispered. "It's weird, right?"

My brother shrugged. "Sonny's a lot more mature than I was, even though I had Hanna at his age. I don't know. There are differences, but so many similarities." He faced me. "If Damion, uh, likes working with the dead? Why doesn't he do something with forensic science?"

"What? C, he likes clipping motherfuckers, not fucking with their bodies." I couldn't believe he drew that conclusion.

"Whatever . . . he has that . . . what you have." He waved a hand at me.

I pointed my finger. "Don't start talking shit, all right? You and everybody else. An ounce of liquor, and you all start running your mouths."

"I can say some shit right now, but I won't."

"Say it, I fucking dare you—"

"Christ . . . stop fighting!" Bella yelled at us from somewhere. "Go home and fuck your wife, Carlisle!"

"Damn," I commented. "Bro, why am I hearing about your sex life, or lack thereof?" I raised a brow.

"Lack?" he laughed. "It's been a couple weeks. What the fuck is Alex telling people?" He suddenly looked pissed. "She doesn't take sex seriously—doesn't think it's that personal and tells your wife everything, and then Bella likes to tease and be nosy…"

"Once upon a time, a few weeks felt like years." I poured myself a glass of wine. "You want?" I showed him the bottle.

He put up a hand, declining. "I'm happy. We're happy, you know? I'm not fucking around on her either . . ." He paused, looking down. "Ed, I'm just tired. Back when we were first married, we'd go at it. Fuck, we'd spend days in bed—whole fucking days. Then it slowed down when Eddie was born, but it was cool. Then it slowed even more—came to a complete stop—after the twins were born. I was fine—went with the flow. Sex doesn't define my marriage."

"Whoa…" I looked around us. "When did you grow up? Did it happen while I wasn't looking?"

He didn't answer that. "We're settled without settling. We still joke and laugh, and we talk about everything, and we have spoken about this . . . We just haven't spoken about it within the last few months. I don't know. She's different, insatiable—"

"That happened to Bella. When she hit her mid-thirties . . . fuck, man. It was awesome. We went from doing it whenever to going at it all the fucking time—every night, like clockwork. As soon as I'd come home, she'd be on me. Sonny and Dame were older, Kylie was _finally_ sleeping through the night. Those everyday stresses were gone. She was able to relax."

Carlisle nodded. "I know what's up with my wife. Guys peak at like…what's it, eighteen? Women don't go through that until their thirties. I know what's going on. I just can't—"

"Keep up?" I raised a brow.

He stole my wine to drink it up. "No, I'm tired. I come home from a long day to a house with two very hyper children. The meds help, but…they're still kids, and they're a handful." He sat up straight. "You have Bella. Sonny and Dame don't live at home anymore, and you're not 'working' as much as you used to. Ed, I have six kids. Six-fucking-kids. Alex made our house a home. They don't want to leave. That's the only reason I'm still supporting Hanna and Carli. They're old enough, and I gave them slack because of guilt . . . Ant's still living in our basement. He's out a lot, doesn't come home sometimes and does his thing, but then there's Eddie. We've got a few more years until he goes to college. The twins—" He blew out a breath.

I nodded. "Your office is quiet."

"It is," he whispered. "I'm not a bad person."

"I never said you were, but come on. You have six kids. You made conscious decisions to have those kids . . . you gotta put up with them, even if it's in doses."

"I'm home every weekend. We do sports, arcades, the movies—we go places, we do things, and my adult children tag along, too. I'm glad that Alex and I have provided this nice, family-type atmosphere, but it's them too—the older ones. Them always being around . . . We start fucking or getting into it, they'll know what we're doing. The only privacy I have is at the office, and Alex doesn't get it. My poor wife can't even shower without interruptions, but she's fine with it. She never loses her temper or cares. She tells me to lighten up," he ranted. "So, no. I'm not cheating. Christ. When the fuck would I have the time? And to tell you the truth? I need another headache—another broad—like I need a hole in my head."

I laughed along with him. "Good for you…For a second there, I mean."

"Old habits die hard . . . Trust. I love chillin' at Eclipse, watching the girls and pretending I'm twenty-five again." He shook his head. "But at the end of the day, I love my home life—wouldn't sacrifice it for anything, even though it's turned my hair gray." He pointed to his head. "We don't have the time to do the things we want to, but—"

"It is what it is. You do the things you can, and right now—to you—sex isn't that important."

"Exactly. Where the fuck is my dick going?" He widened his arms.

"Very mature of you . . . to think that way."

He nodded. "It's still early. I can go to Eclipse, check on the kids, and be home to chill with Alex. Karen's hanging onto the boys, and Eddie—he'll likely chill here or with Ant, and he can get himself to school Monday. I'm going to surprise Alex and take her to the shore tomorrow night—we'll head down after we have dinner here. The plan was to leave after the wedding . . . It doesn't matter if it's October or cold. The beach—" his smile lit up the room, "is our thing . . . so no, I'm not worried about rushing home tonight."

"Because you wanna go to Eclipse?" I grinned.

"It's business, too. Caius needs to me to look over those papers from Twilight," he sighed. "I was supposed to last week, send a courier over, but . . . you know. I was just too busy and forgot. He hit me up again at the party. Regardless, taking Alex down to the shore will make up for tonight in spades, especially with what I have planned."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Well, for one, I don't plan on us ever leaving the crib—"

"You're using Dad's spot?" I kicked off my shoes to get comfortable.

He nodded. "And . . . some time during this weekend, we'll have a picnic at the lighthouse, where I plan to ask her to marry me—" He reached into his pocket.

"Huh?" I scrunched my nose. "Youse have been married for sixteen years—"

He showed me a diamond ring, which looked like more of an anniversary ring. "Our marriage was planned by her parents—I never really had a chance to ask or do anything romantic, even if I'd already had the ring. She's always deserved a proper proposal, and it all started at that fucking house."

I laughed and clapped, and then I gave him a high-five. "That'll be awesome, man. She won't get on your ass about anything for months—fucking months." I briefly thought about doing the same.

I never did anything romantic. I blurted that shit out on a street corner, lying through my teeth about my grandmother, because I couldn't imagine being honest with her. Those early days of Bella and me, I lied to myself a lot.

I—Edward Cullen—wanted her from jump.

The decision to propose was my chickenshit way of keeping Bella in my life. I couldn't fathom her leaving me, even at that early stage in the game, and that's the fucking truth.

But where do I propose? Where did it all start for us? Middletown? That hotel where C got married the first time—where I'd made_ love_ to someone for the first time in my life? Three blocks over and two avenues up, where I initially asked her on the street? My old apartment where Sonny lives now?

The first time it even dawned on me that I loved her, I was at Eclipse—the night I realized that marriage was the safest bet, especially since I was letting her get too involved in my world. Fuck, I hadn't even realized it at first.

Regardless of what defines us as a couple, I needed to pick out a stellar location. I wanted my wife to cry those happy tears and fuck my brains out for days on end. I wanted her to see that although I can be an asshole, that I can also be loving, romantic. I wanted Bella to know that after all these years of marriage, I still felt the same—that I still loved her more than anything . . . more than life itself, and she needs to know that I wouldn't change anything, not a fucking thing.

Maybe we could go on vacation?

"That's not why . . . I wanna do this." Carlisle interrupted my thoughts. "I need this time away just as much as she does. We live together, but...I miss her a lot."

I agreed with him on that one. My thoughts of proposing again are for me, too.

We both fell quiet, and the small grins we both wore wasn't lost on me. I finished my last sip of wine and leaned back in the chair, and then I sat up startled when I saw a crack in the ceiling. What the fuck? "You see that?" I pointed up.

"It's a crack, so what?"

"So…?" I shook my head. "My house is falling apart. Bella just redid this room." I groaned at the thought of having painters and shit here again. "I hope she doesn't notice."

"Dude . . . Alex wants to redo our kitchen—the appliances are old." He grumbled. "And I'm a dick because getting a new fridge—the thought of it—doesn't get me hot." He chuckled.

I shrugged. "They like to focus on home improvements. To be frank, I'm happier when Bella's spending money. Usually when she's bored, she gets involved with the church, acts like a holy roller for a stint." I stuck out my tongue. "Needless to say, I hardly get any when she spends her days with nuns and priests. It makes her feel dirty."

"And who do you think she does all this with? Trust. I know." Carlisle huffed a breath, and we got quiet again.

"Bella should go back to school—get that degree? Things are quiet. Shit, when Kylie leaves, I don't know what she'll do. What'll I do?" I whispered that last part to myself. "Shit." The world was our oyster. No fucking kids living here? Holy Mother of God. It'd just be us—Bella and me, and I hoped that "only me" was enough for my wife.

"She's settled now. Why should she even bother?" C asked.

"I—" I twirled my finger, realizing what he said before. "Back up, Eddie's staying here?"

He shrugged. "Or at home with Ant, although I'd rather he stay here. Bella won't say no."

"Oh, you won't ask me?" I laughed. "This is my house."

"Come on, bro. Who you kidding?"

"Fuck you," I laughed. "You know Ed's welcome here. He's so quiet; I hardly know when he's here."

"Thanks," he said. "He has a baseball game on Sunday, but Ant knows and will take him."

"Uh, how is Ant? You guys still close and whatnot?"

He nodded. "We're good. He's seeing someone—" The way he said "someone" made me think he knew.

"Someone?" I raised a brow.

"Yeah…someone." He gave me a look. "School was never his thing. I think I might have to donate a library so he gets a degree, but…things could be worse. Actually…I mean, he's hinted at running with a crew."

"Really?" Now that had my attention. "He never showed any interest in our thing before…"

"Why should either of us be surprised? They can't hack it in the real world, and then think pulling a trigger or scheming, wheeling and dealing is a wise career move."

"Sonny's good," I said. "Fucking great at what he does, actually."

"Sonny was made for this life . . . just like you were. You'll give him the throne?"

I nodded. "Aro thinks he's too old, but I'm not going anywhere yet, nor do I have any intentions of retiring. It has nothing to do with him being my son either. He's smart, has a good head . . . but I don't want him knowing that," I laughed. "Power's a scary thing . . ."

"You think Sonny would take you out? His own father?"

I composed my smile. "No, I don't, but the longer I am where I am, it keeps the heat off of him. Plus, I still need a few years to teach him."

"Ant's tough." He nodded. "He'd find a groove, something he'd be good at. He could start as a low-man on Sonny's crew—only Sonny's, but . . . Fuck. What's going to happen when his personal life intertwines with that one?"

"Uh—"

"Come on, Ed. I know. I know." He sounded cryptic. "Sonny would—we'd all defend Ant to our deaths, but since when—when have you ever heard of a, you know, a gay being in our thing?" he laughed, yet I could tell he didn't see any humor in his words. "Who'd take orders from him or watch his back? No one would respect him."

"But you respect him," I said, wanting to gauge his personal reaction.

"Of course, I do. Just like I go along with all his lies. He'll tell me when he's ready."

"It doesn't bother you?"

He shook his head. "This bothers me—the thought of him getting involved and me not being able to hold his hand the whole way. He'd also have to hide—seriously hide—that part of himself for the rest of his life. So . . . I'm basically fine with him being gay. When it comes down to it, gay couples adopt and get married, too. He can still have the life I hoped for him, but I do not want him involved with our thing. Not at all."

I let out a large breath. "We could say no."

"And what? Have him go behind our backs like Dame did? When they want something, they go for it."

"True," I mused. "I still can't believe that shit—the Dame shit." I pulled my hair. "But you should talk to Alex about Anthony. She's afraid for him—afraid of your reaction."

He waved a hand.

"Bro, Sonny would have his back—we all would, and the first to call him a fag would get a cap in their ass, and that's how that'd go."

"No," he said. "I'll figure out a way for him to be involved, make some money without really being too enmeshed."

"Do whatever." I honestly didn't care, not when it came to Anthony. I'd grown to love that boy as though he was my own son.

When silence fell upon us again, I jerked my head to the door. "Go, so you're still home at a reasonable hour . . . and make sure our boys don't get into trouble tonight."

He grinned. "Tell your wife to have more faith in me." Carlisle stood up to kiss my cheek and then let himself out.

"I know I'll never make that mistake again," I called out to him, and he placed his hand to the door, wearing a smile before he turned.

I gave myself a minute of quiet—enjoying my recliner before I checked the front and back doors. I did my rounds for the time being, and then joined Bella in our bedroom. She was out cold. Kylie wasn't answering her phone, but I was able to get in touch with Vito.

It was minutes to eleven, and Kylie was either going to be a little late or in a lot of trouble if her ass didn't get home soon.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

**Damion POV is up NEXT!**

******WTS kid pics (The kids all grown up/what they look like) are now on my blog. Please follow the link at the bottom of my profile. Or go to: **** sexylexcullen dot blogspot dot com**


	5. Damion Part One

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**Sorry for the delay. Part Two will be posted tomorrow. Thank you all for being patient. There are some mature, although kinda weird, themes in this chapter, so fasten your big girl panties ;-)**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Five: Damion Part One**

**M**y cousin Anthony and I sat away from the crowd—watching the girls and almost finishing a bottle of vodka.

"Who's this new guy you're seeing?" I asked.

"Shh!" He hit my shoulder. "My fucking father is here."

"Just tell him—"

"You talk too much when you're drunk, man," he laughed. "Sober, you don't say anything—nothing at all."

"Fuck it." I belched, watching the busty brunette swing from the pole. "Now, she—she can get it."

"Those tits are fake," Ant commented.

"Fake, real—I bet her pussy's real," I laughed. "Juicy, tasty—"

"Diseased... She's probably been around the crowd a few times." He shook his head. "Julie did a number on you this time."

"I proposed." I finished the last of the liquor. "So stupid . . . Nunzio's daughter—she's so pretty, age-appropriate—"

"Age-appropriate for what, marriage?"

I nodded.

"She's also a whore, and you can't turn a ho into a housewife—"

I stopped to stare at him. "Don't you have anything nice to say?"

He grinned, putting his arm around my shoulder. "Eric is wonderful. We met at Whole Foods—he's the manager, yet he goes to Hunter College. He's an accounting major."

"Accounting is boring. You need someone like, like, not boring," I laughed so hard as I saw two Anthonys. "Fuck." My eyes crossed for a second.

"Yo, you okay?"

"Yeah." Shaking my head, I tried to mentally sober myself up.

"You need to slow down," Ant said. "What is up with you?"

"Drunk," I murmured. "Fuck it." Slamming my fist down, I wished we had more vodka—more something, anything.

"Since when do you drink anyway?" he asked.

"Since . . . I don't know." For the life of me, I couldn't think up a valid excuse, nor did I give a fuck.

"My boys!" Uncle Carlisle suddenly appeared, sitting across from us. "How are we doing?" He put out an arm so a stripper could sit in his lap. "You need drinks?" He handed the woman a bill. "Go get us a bottle, sweetheart."

She grinned at us all and swayed her hips as she left.

I reached to give her a pat on the ass, but I missed . . . such is life.

"Dad, can you tone it down?" I heard Anthony ask, but my eyes were trained on my brother. He had Joe cornered by the bar. "I mean, you know . . . what about Mom? You're always here, hanging out with these whores—"

"They're strippers. They dance, which is a questionable yet reputable profession," my uncle laughed.

"Regardless . . . Does Mom know? Or does she think you're working?" That caught my attention—Ant calling his father out on that bullshit.

Carlisle faced Anthony. "First of all, I'm not _always_ here. Get that out your head. I haven't been here in a month." He glared at his son. "I can't hang out—have a good time? I'm not allowed?"

Ant laughed. "I'm sorry, but when I see my father rubbing up on a_ stripper_, when I know _my mother_ is home _waiting_ . . ."

"Anthony, you're an adult. You're also a man—"

"That's not my point—" They spoke over each other.

"Anthony, I shouldn't have to tell you, nor should I have to defend myself." Carlisle sipped his drink. "You're a man, so you know. Right? You understand?" He had an odd tone to his voice.

"What the fuck does that even mean? I am a man." Ant turned to me. "Did you make any sense of that?"

I shrugged, knowing my uncle's a dog. Him cheating is one of Alex's biggest fears. Even if he doesn't hook up with these women, when he does come here, they leave their scent—or so I hear—on him, just by chillin' around him and sitting on his lap. I always leave here smelling like something. It just happens. And his wife is perfect, adorable, and sexy as hell. I don't know why he'd waste his time here.

"You're married. The only tits you should be concerned about are Mom's."

"Watch yourself, okay? You don't talk about my wife's breasts. Why are _you_ so concerned with this? You should be more concerned with yourself. You're single. Well, you were, but I haven't heard much, so I'm going to gather it's not serious . . . There's all these beautiful women around." He smiled at his son. "Relax, drink up, and enjoy the view. That's the only reason I come here—to relax."

I snorted a laugh.

"I'm not interested—I mean, I'm in a relationship." Anthony's face had paled. "You know . . . I'm just here to hang out."

"It's serious?" Now my uncle didn't look so happy, a frown marring his usual jovial expression. "Uh, who's this woman that swept my son off his feet?" Carlisle nudged Ant's shoulder and the smile was back.

I smiled, too, at their conversation but wondered what was going on paces away. Sonny was still in Joe's face.

"Uh . . . her name is Erica."

"Erica," Carlisle mused.

"What's going on over there?" I jerked my chin.

"It speaks!" my uncle shouted.

"Ha, ha." I twirled my finger in the air.

"So much like your father." He shook his head, but then composed his smile. "I'm—I'm honestly shocked at what's going on."

Anthony and I leaned in to hear him better, while the stripper brought over a bottle and some shot glasses. This family's gossip is better than any TV show, movie, or book out there.

"Carli—my baby girl—she fell for Joe's charm . . . I just hope Kylie and Carli can mend fences." He shrugged. "I'll be talking to her this week."

The conversations just got better and better, and I couldn't believe my ears. Carli and I haven't been close for the past few years, but she used to blow everyone in high school. I think Joe fell for _her_ "charm".

"I should go keep the peace . . ." Carlisle stood up but looked down to Anthony. "Tomorrow morning, we'll have breakfast. I wanna hear all about, um . . . Erica." He waved a hand. "Your mother and I will be leaving tomorrow night—"

"Leaving?" Ant and I asked in unison.

"Why youse so nosy?" My uncle grinned at us both. "Watch the dancers, get-fucking-laid. Christ...When I was your age—"

"Where you going?" Anthony asked, followed by a burp.

My uncle rolled his eyes. "A quick get-away, nothing special. You'll need to keep an eye on your brother." He patted Ant's back. "The both of you bore me to tears—please. I love youse, but . . . fucking live a little for Christ's sake."

We watched him leave, and then faced each other. "He's right," Ant mumbled. "All the stories we've heard, the shit our fathers have done…What the fuck do we do?"

I shrugged. "I do what I do. I'm content."

"What _do_ you do? Study a million hours a week?" He chuckled. "Listen to music with Julie? Honestly. Maybe her breaking up with you was a blessing. Did you really love her?"

"She knew me," I said.

"But were you ever happy? She was the first chick you fucked. Bro, I get it—"

"What the fuck do you know about it?"

"Gay, straight—that doesn't fucking matter. Relationships are relationships. They come, they go. We fall in love and get our hearts broken. It's all a part of life. But just because you love or lov_ed_ Julie—that doesn't mean she's the only woman you'll _ever_ love. Understand?"

"I know that . . ." I pushed my hair back.

"And not for nothing, you're a little out of her league. No wonder she had trust issues." He whistled. "All my friends thought she was your fag hag, until they spoke to you and knew you were straight. They said you were too pretty NOT to be gay," he chortled. "A fucking tragedy."

"Don't start with that shit. She was a good person—a great person. She accepted me—"

"And others will accept you, too. You have to speak—literally talk to people, get out there and live!"

I stuck out my tongue.

"I love you, but you're immature, and a fucking nerd, too—there, I said it. Damion, all you do is study. Growing up, you hid behind Sonny or me, and now you're hiding behind school . . . You close yourself off. You'd rather people fear you, and they do; meanwhile, they have no fucking reason to—"

"Can you stop?" I pushed his shoulder. "And studying—that's not _all_ I do." I took another shot. "I love Julie. I'm just not_ in_ love with her. I'm—I'm in love with someone else, and . . . fuck you. I'm not talking about this." I laughed at him.

"All three of us, you, Sonny, and me—we shouldn't be this fucked up when it comes to relationships. Our parents are models, man. They've been together forever, are in love . . . My father's not perfect—I'll admit that. But I've heard horror stories from kids that were in my high school—about their parents, custody battles, divorces, and whatnot. Ours are normal, old school."

I hated to admit that I didn't really know my parents that well. They always gave us what we wanted. We always had food on the table. I remember a lot of scary things happening when I was a kid, but I've blocked most of that shit out—just put it out of my mind. They're not so frightening now, though.

They scolded me and praised me when it was warranted. They loved me and showed me affection. I had a happy, semi-drama-free childhood, and yet I am the way I am.

They don't know me either, and I prefer it that way.

School has always been a godsend—getting out of Brooklyn and away from my family. They're so intrusive it's suffocating. All of which has isolated me from my family a bit. It's not that I can't stand them. I love them and my siblings more than anything in his world. I just don't think I fit into their ideal mold. They're proud of the things I do—my scholastic achievements.

Who I fuck or don't fuck isn't anyone's business.

I do what I do. I make no apologies, and I'm relatively happy.

I'm disappointed about Julie breaking things off, but I'm not surprised, and I'm not as hurt as I seem to be pretending. I'm not sure why I'm playing the part of the jilted ex. I guess I just wanted it to be over and done with—to be married already. I thought things would change. That once we said "I do", we'd be much, much happier—that I'd be settled in . . . something.

We had a lot of great things between us. The sex was decent; she always put out, so I never had any complaints. I was loyal, like her little lapdog. And I could tolerate her for more than twenty-minute installments.

We have the same eclectic taste in music, too.

I just really thought things would change after we got married.

That maybe my soul wouldn't be so restless.

"Wait . . . who are you in love with?"

I was about to answer—lie to him—when Aro Jr. approached the table. "Hey . . . finally closed the restaurant." He shook his head, grabbing for a shot glass. "I gotta catch up."

Many things were going on around me—many thoughts had flooded my fuzzy brain, yet I could only focus on one thing. "I'm the only straight guy at this table . . . and we're at a strip club. I think that's funny," I laughed some more.

"Oh, fuck!" AJ shouted. "I need twenty shots to catch up to you." He slapped his hand to mine. "But shut up with your labels . . . love is love, man. This dude—" he plucked his shirt, "doesn't see genitalia—"

I barked out a laugh so fucking loud, people heard me over the music.

"That didn't come out right, did it?" Anthony asked him.

AJ sucked his teeth. "You know what I mean." He downed a shot. "But if we're going to be technical about it, I'm actually seeing a woman." He shrugged. "She's the new sous-chef—fucking lovely." He took another shot.

Anthony raised his. "Congrats . . . to love."

I frowned but grabbed my drink, because at this point I'll drink to anything. "Fuck that!"

They stared at me, but eventually shrugged and we all gulped our vodka. Then my phone rang, and I stared at Julie's flashing name.

"Don't answer it," Anthony said. "You're like her emotional ping-pong ball."

"I—"

AJ stole my phone. "This is guys' night."

"Right," I whispered, stealing it back and stuffing it in my pocket.

"She probably just wanted to make sure you weren't out tonight," Anthony said. "Broads do that. They wanna make sure you're just as miserable as they are."

"Probably," I agreed.

"How would you know?" AJ asked Ant.

"Hanna and Carli…? I've heard it all with those two—trust. They play men like fiddles, but I think the guy Hanna's seeing is it for her."

"How so?" AJ started to fix Anthony's hair.

My cousin pushed his hand away. "They've been together for six months, which is five months longer than any other relationship she's been in. Only thing, Carli says this guy's like forty-five."

"Your sister and her daddy issues." AJ shook his head. "It's plain as day—girl needs therapy with a side of Lithium."

Anthony nodded. "He's divorced and has a kid—the trifecta. I can't wait until she brings him home. Maybe that'll be the day I come out . . . My father will be too concerned with taking _that_ motherfucker out; he won't care about who I'm fucking." He threw his head back and laughed.

I hit his shoulder, nodding my own head. "That's—that'll be one amazing meal. Make sure you call me. I wanna be there."

"Fuck . . . me too," AJ laughed.

"When I got my tattoo at . . . How old were we?" I looked to AJ who'd gone with me. It was his friend who did it and never asked for my ID.

"I was twenty, so you must have been sixteen."

"Right." I nodded, talking to Anthony. "I waited until Sonny got into trouble with my parents, and then I showed them. They didn't give a fuck."

"What was going on with Sonny?" Ant asked.

I smirked. "The day he was made…?" My mother went ballistic, and she didn't give a fuck about the bullshit tribal tatt on my arm—something I wish I'd never gotten. It's hot, everyone says it's hot, but…

When my brother joined Dad's other family, he got the Cullen crest on his chest—now that's some cool shit.

My phone started ringing again, and we all stared down to it. "I should just answer it," I said, hitting the screen. "Hello?"

Anthony and AJ groaned, holding their heads.

I didn't give a fuck. "Yo?" There was silence on the other end.

_"Where are you?"_ Julie asked.

"How's that your business?" I didn't give her a chance to respond. "You lost the right to care when you broke up with me."

Anthony hooted and hollered, and then AJ smacked the back of his head. They made me smile wider.

_"Why are you being such a dick?"_ Julie.

"Did you ever think that maybe . . . maybe I am—just a dick?" I furrowed my brow. "Some things _are_ what they seem to be. I'm private and you know that, and yet you continue to fucking bust my balls about shit—"

_"Damion . . ."_ Her voice was filled with emotion, and then I heard her sob. _"I'm sorry . . . I—I—I don't know. I don't know. I mean, I—I—"_

"What?" I couldn't understand a word she said.

_"We've, um, we've been together a long time. I love you—I love you more than anything. I can forgive you, but—but you have to tell me. I mean, I don't know what I mean."_ She continued to cry, and I felt a twinge of a headache coming on. _"I see the way girls look at you—"_

"Since when did I ever give a fuck about—about anyone who was looking at me?" I shouted. "I said I wasn't fucking anyone else. I said I wasn't cheating. We all have secrets—" Suddenly, I didn't know what to say. "Look, you did the right thing—"

_"Don't say that. I'm sorry. I was angry, and I didn't mean it. Damion, please!"_

Anthony hit my shoulder. "Get off the phone."

He was right, and I didn't care for this conversation at all—just couldn't deal at the moment, nor did I give a fuck.

_"Please!"_ she begged.

I sighed. "We'll talk, okay? We'll—go to lunch this week. All right?"

_"Do you still, still love me?"_

I should have never picked up the phone because I was never going to get her off of it. "Of course I do. Not much has changed in…eight hours?"

_"Do you forgive me? Can we just, just forget today and go back to normal?"_

I raised a brow. "No—"

_"Don't do this. Please don't do this!"_ She was shouting again, hysterical. _"Come here. Come here now—you'll be sorry if you don't."_

"What?" Again, I didn't hear her, and, at a loss for words, I said what came naturally. "I love you . . . that much hasn't changed. We'll talk tomorrow or something. Okay?"

There was no way I'd officially break all ties with her over the phone. Earlier, she said she couldn't take me being so secretive anymore, and that it—meaning our relationship—was over, while she handed me back the ring I gave her. I told her to keep the ring, but I couldn't talk at the time—I had some place I had to be. I told her we'd discuss it when I came back, or while we were on our way to Kylie's party. But she said she wasn't coming. Not only did she not want to be around me, but she didn't lose as much weight as she'd hoped, and she didn't wanna see my family.

I was also void of any emotion, which was likely why I was pretending—acting like a person in my shoes should.

Overall, I didn't give a fuck. I'd been down this road before with her, and I was done.

_Fish in the sea and all that garbage. _

_"Really?"_

I wanted to stab myself in the face. "Yes . . . I gotta go." I ended the call, feeling as though I'd aged ten years. "What the fuck was that?"

Anthony and AJ just shook their heads.

"Why did I pick up?"

AJ took my phone. "I'll hold onto it."

"Get a lap dance—hell, I'll get one, too." Anthony drank some more.

"To please Daddy?" AJ smiled sweetly.

"You know it." Ant grumbled. "Could you believe my father?" He wouldn't shut the fuck up either, and I wanted silence at this time.

"What'd he do?" AJ asked.

"He's all over these fucking strippers. It's disrespectful to me, as his son, to be touching these skanks while my mother is at home…waiting for his dumb ass!"

"Whoa." AJ looked to me. "I guess you feel, uh, strongly about that shit." He downed another shot. "Your mom's fine. She's probably used to all this crap by now. Who cares?"

"I fucking do." My cousin was getting testy.

"Relax." I patted his back.

"I can't. It bothers me . . . We spend more time with my mother than he does." Anthony held his forehead.

AJ kicked me under the table, and I kicked him right back—making him wince.

"This fucker doesn't mind." He jerked a thumb to me and kicked me once more.

"Fucker!" I got him again, and he leaned to his side. I'd gotten him good.

"What?" Ant asked.

"AJ's an asshole." I sounded like my brother circa fifteen years ago.

"Oh," he laughed. "Just—I don't know. If she's upset tomorrow, talk to her for me, Dame. You're good with her."

By now, AJ was laughing so hard, he almost fell out of the booth.

"Why are you so concerned about this?" I turned to my cousin. He had no idea, but I'd been doing my part to try and make Alex miserable just to keep her happy. "She's fine."

He looked around and finally to me. "Being his oldest son, my father's shared some shit with me. He doesn't have the best track record when it comes to marriage and/or women. The infidelity garbage . . . I don't want my family to break up. I don't want my mother to put a bullet in her dome because he's being a dick. It's preventative—keeping fuckers in line before the extreme happens. Now, let's go do this." He grabbed the bottle and they both slid out of the booth.

Then they dragged me away from the table.

Anthony went on ahead, while AJ sidled up to me. "Does Ant know about you having an affair with his mother?"

I elbowed him in the gut.

"I mean, that it's _all _in your head." He ruffled my hair. "Your imaginary affair."

I didn't dignify him with an answer. AJ's one to talk. Of course, he doesn't know who really took my virginity. No one does. When I was fourteen, I'd gone with AJ, Sonny, and Katie to Six Flags, along with Lauren, our chaperone. It was an overnight trip. She was trying her hardest to be more involved in her kids' lives—at least that's what she was rambling about before she fucked me. She was lonely. Her last boyfriend had dumped her for another woman. She was miserable, blah, blah, and so she loved all the company—all us kids.

My mother didn't want us to go. Sonny would bitch and whine any time he didn't get to chill with Katie, and she relented. Meanwhile, if I was fourteen, he was eighteen. All of which meant he could have just drove down to New Jersey by himself.

I remember the whole trip being Lauren's graduation present for AJ. He and my brother had just graduated high school. Regardless of me being younger, AJ and I have always been close.

I was down with it, always so go with the flow as a kid. Everyone was watching a movie in the other room, and I'd preferred to sit by myself and read. She said I was mature, a handsome kid.

Even if AJ's mother was my first, which should be a monumental milestone, the hows and whys are a little hazy to me. Maybe I blocked that out on some level, too.

I remember she had a smokin' hot body.

All I know is, I didn't last long at all. Hell, we didn't even kiss. She started to jack me off, and I let her do it. Then she climbed on top of me, worked herself into a frenzy, before she called me "Skip".

Two years later, I found out that was my father's nickname and/or a title of sorts.

And the whole experience turned humiliating on my part.

No one knows about that shit.

And no one ever will.

I'm cordial when I see her, even if a large part of me wants to knock her one.

And I'd never hit a woman.

AJ chuckled. "Look, we can't help who we fall for, but be realistic. Get back with Julie or move on, don't focus whatever little free time you do have on running to Bay Ridge to hang out with your aunt. Your parents don't even know just how often you come back to the 'hood."

"My aunt." I snickered.

"You say more with what you don't say—your actions." He squeezed my shoulder before he took a seat. "You bumping into her all night . . . that was your way of putting yourself in her path, so she thought about you."

He had me there. "What'd you do? Watch me all night?"

"What are we talking about?" Anthony asked.

"Nothing," AJ answered him and quickly came back to me. "All I'm saying, Dame…You're not the only fucker who observes shit. Since I was a kid, my pops had me looking around—at my surroundings to notice shit others wouldn't."

Nevertheless, I didn't give a fuck about what he'd just said, and took a seat too—in the middle and by the stage. No one had to twist my arm to get a lap dance. I welcomed that same brunette I'd been admiring. She had a nice ass, as well, which I doubt was fake.

Halfway into it, though, my cousin was killing the half-wood I had going. I mean, he had a gorgeous blonde rubbing her rack on him, and he was talking about a male revue.

"Their bodies—" he was hit in the face with a tit, "so many ripples, and they were oiled. You have to come—you and AJ."

"You need more gay friends," I said, palming this chick's ass, and pulling her down onto my cock. She had such a nice smile. "I'm not going to another one of those. I was kicked out last time."

As a matter of fact, that was the last time I got sloppy drunk—when AJ and my cousin hauled me into a male peep-show thing down in Atlantic City. We'd all gone down. It was business for Sonny, and we all went for the ride, the casinos and whatnot.

We were my brother's little entourage, even if we'd paired off. I think Sonny spent the rest of his night with some broad he met. And I was stuck with Cock Suckers of America, not that I minded. It is what it is. Ant does things he doesn't like all the time to chill with us. I'd figured I could support him and watch men dance on some stage.

"You punched a stripper in the face," he laughed. "That Luke guy had to come get you out of lockup. Did he ever tell your pops where you actually were? That's what I was more afraid of."

During his entire tirade, my stripper was frozen where she was—like I was going to smack her around.

I gave Anthony a look, and then smiled at the brown haired girl on top of me. "It was a male stripper—I don't swing that way, and he touched me," I explained.

"That's what they do—"

I turned to my cousin. "Shut up!"

He locked his mouth and threw away the key.

"So . . . can _I _touch you?" she asked.

I blew out a breath, nodding, as she stood up to turn around. She was grinding low, only to lift her ass and nearly hit my face and then toss her hair back.

_Christ._

I love it when they do that.

My brother has the best gig in the world. While I'm stuck in gross anatomy, he gets to sit at a bar and watch beautiful women dance around naked.

What did _I_ do wrong?

"You don't come here often." She was on my lap again. "But you look like a Cullen."

"What gave it away?" I tossed her hair away from her shoulder.

"You look exactly like your father." That kind of killed it—deflated my mood a bit.

"But I'm obviously better looking." I winked.

"Of course." She leaned toward me, rubbing her tits in my face. "The back room is empty," she whispered in my ear. "Can I give you a private tour?"

"Oh." I jolted in my seat when she palmed my dick. "You think Blondie'll join us?" I tilted my head to her friend who was dancing on my cousin.

"I think we can work something out," she said, slowing her movements. "I did want you all to myself, though." She licked the side of my ear and all this was bordering on being a bit too skanky for me, but I was down to do whatever in this moment.

I palmed her cheek, enjoying the softness of her skin. "What's your name?"

"Misty—"

"Your real name." I gazed into her eyes.

"Um…" She clammed up, looking away and placing her hands on my shoulders.

"Come on . . . I don't bite. Unless you want me to." I grasped her chin, turning her back to me.

"Why?" she giggled.

My brows rose. "Because I asked you, and I wanna know what to shout when I fuck your ass."

Misty grinned, relaxing again, when I thought for sure she'd slap me. "Mia."

"I don't pay for it," I said to get that shit out of the way.

"Trust me . . . this would be all pleasure." She rubbed up my chest. "Not business."

My hands glided down her shoulders, her arms, and I grasped her hand to lead us away. And I was stuck—wanting to be this guy, wanting to fuck Mia and her friend, and yet I just didn't fucking feel like it. "Grab your friend. I'll get us drinks . . . and then I wanna watch you fuck her."

"Um," she giggled. "I, uh—"

"Think about it after . . . Let's go." I started for the back.

"Uh-oh." Anthony pushed the girl off of him.

When I turned to see what happened, all I saw was a crowd—a riot-like crowd by the bar. There was a fight, and I saw Sonny's fist in the air.

"Fuck." I stumbled, righting my clothes, as Anthony, AJ, and I went to see what was up.

Sonny had Joe pinned to the floor. Joe's two brothers were trying to get Sonny off of him. And the other guys on Sonny's crew were trying to stop the brothers. When Joe's brother David kicked _my _brother, I grabbed him by the collar, and Anthony grabbed the other one.

When I saw Anthony start swinging, I didn't wait for David to punch me. I just went with the flow—got Davey in the jaw and kneed him in the groin.

Sadly, it didn't escalate much more than that.

The lights went on in the club and the music stopped. There were some horror movie-type screams from those slutty bitches dancing. Then my uncle Carlisle, Momo, and Caius were breaking us apart.

"You three—" Carlisle pointed to Joe and his brothers. "Leave . . . don't come back if you know what's good for you."

Joe licked his bloodied lip and kept eye contact with Sonny as he left. His brothers didn't do or say anything, just followed him out. Poor Joe thinks he's really somebody because his father used to be on my father's crew. Then when Joe Sr. came out of jail years ago, my father glorified him. He wasn't a rat—did his time like a man—and was a capo when he got out.

I must be drunk, because when the lights went out and the music started again, I was surprised and stumbled a bit. "Fuck."

"You should go home," my uncle said. "I'll get someone to drive you." He smiled, helping he right myself. "I've never seen you drunk, drunk before. It's nice." He patted my cheek. "Relaxing and hanging with the boys…"

"I'm good." I straightened my jacket, and at this point in the night, the only home I wanted to go to was his. It was almost a compulsion, especially since I was now a free agent, and I wondered how long he planned on hanging out here.

"Dude!" Anthony punched my shoulder. "I haven't been in a fight in so long . . . it felt amazing."

"You only hit that guy once." AJ touched his cheek. "Sweetie, you have a scratch."

Anthony shrugged him off. "And you didn't do shit. Pussy."

I laughed, leaning on a bar stool and looking to my brother. He was still staring at the exit, like Joe was about to reappear. "Let it go, Sonny. Kylie left with Peto . . . no harm done. It's over."

My brother stared daggers at me. "Office! Now!" He stomped his way to the back.

I chuckled as I followed him, but I was not in the mood to sit through his "Dad" routine. I'll admit. He has some big shoes to fill one day—or high expectations to live up to. However, no matter how hard he tries, he's not Edward Cullen—the Skip.

"What's your problem now?" I closed the door behind me.

"That fuck cheated on our sister . . . with our fucking cousin!" He kicked his swivel chair. "I was supposed to let him get away with that?"

I dragged my drunk ass to a chair and sat down. "It's not that big a deal. I keep telling you. There's a huge world out there, and it's nothing like this one—where everyone fucks everyone, it's all incestuous, we're all in each other's businesses and lives . . . It's a taboo concept to most, but not for us. In the big world—as a whole—we're freaks. But you're not deaf, dumb, or blind. Why does this surprise you?"

"Not a big deal—not a—" He spluttered, about to lose his shit.

"Count to ten, like Mom says." I smiled.

"Fuck you." He spat.

I nodded. "It's not a big deal because Kylie's probably got a mouth full of Peto right now. No harm, no foul. Just let it go."

"What?" He shook his head. "She doesn't do that."

"Christ!" I shouted, standing from the chair. "You, Dad, every-fucking-body. She's not a saint, and while we're at it, neither are Mom, Alex, or any other female in this family." I shrugged. "You and Dad have this … hypocritical, double-standard garbage—"

"Who are you?" he asked.

I sighed, knowing that regardless of his bullshit, I could be me. "I'm wearing my drunk mask." Which was a license to say the things I usually wouldn't. I felt comfortable doing so in this moment.

"Oh." He had calmed down. "I like this." He gestured to me. "You need to speak up more."

"When it's important . . ." I shrugged.

Sonny took a seat. "What am I supposed to do? He's on my crew. I can't have that."

"Trade him," I said. "Like the major leagues . . . trade with Nunzio or Lou for one of their guys. And why can't Joe be on his father's crew? Dad will sanction it to keep Joe farther away." I nodded, liking my idea. "It's the only logical thing to do . . . Of course, we could always get rid of him."

Sonny snorted. "I thought he did nothing wrong?"

I widened my eyes. "Who said he had to do something wrong?"

Maybe deep down I'm a bad person or have a mental disorder. Killing fuckers has never bothered me. My brother likes to smoke weed or snort a little coke to get a buzz every now and then. I like the adrenaline rush of a fresh kill. It's like nothing I've ever known, and I may be addicted. I like it a little too much.

And I'm on my way to knowing how to save lives, just like I take them.

The body is just a vessel, and they're all bad people. A person is no different from a cockroach, depending on your thoughts and beliefs.

Most people don't think twice about squishing vermin with their shoe.

Why should I?

As a kid, I was scared of monsters—vampires, werewolves, and the boogeyman, but human beings, our vices and the shit we do. Fuck. We're the scariest, most horrifying creatures on this planet, and now I'm the boogeyman.

_It's self-gratifying. _

I came into this by accident. Growing up, I never had the urge to take a life or do any of the shit I now know I'm capable of doing. Back when I was sixteen and Sonny was twenty and was to "make his bones", I rode along—begged him to take me out with him. We stumbled across the mark in passing, and Sonny had confided in me. He told me to take off, that he had some shit to take care of. Maybe I'm weird, but I didn't leave. I snuck around. I followed him, and he didn't even notice.

Then when he lifted his silenced nine—in the back of this very club—he paused. He either couldn't do it, or needed a pep talk. All I know is, the dude shot up and punched Sonny in his junk, making his gun fly out of his hand. I reacted before I even realized I was emerging from behind a dumpster. I knocked that fucker out with a brick, and then popped him between the eyes with Sonny's heat. After was when my brain finally computed what I'd done.

Sonny was freaking out, and then he wouldn't budge. He told me to get the fuck out of there, and that he had to take care of it, meaning the dead body. I was fine. My hands were steady. My heart rate hadn't spiked because of fear, and that bothered me more—wondering why I didn't give a fuck, rather than, "Oh, shit. I just iced a fucker".

To this day, I have no idea if my brother has ever taken a life without many mitigating circumstances—unless they truly deserved it, or it was a heat-of-the-moment instance. My brother has killed with his fists—his fucking temper—when he didn't mean to. He's also a martial arts expert, and he used to participate in the underground MMA circuit, those real cage matches, while he was in undergrad.

When it comes to calculated hits, others _do_ for him now, but he's sort of in this by mistake, or default. I helped him get to where he is, and I never gave a fuck or had any ill feelings. I don't want any of that shit, although I think Sonny is trying to live up to our father's reputation for the sake of doing so because he feels he has to, or to simply reap the other benefits of brushing up against organized crime.

I'm not sure, but I do know that his heart isn't in this 100% of the time. He's not a killer, which isn't exactly a prerequisite to being a successful wise guy, only it sort of is.

My brother's a scam artist, can con a buck out of just about anyone. He's a millionaire at his young age; meanwhile, all that shit doesn't interest me at all.

I'm in love with medicine, while I also do what I do. Unless I sit with a shrink and come up with some great root causes, I have no idea why I am the way I am. I have the ability to think logically, but I just don't give a fuck. I don't have a bad temper at all. A lot of shit just doesn't bother me, and I never have remorse for the things I do.

Maybe my wires are crossed? Something happened to me when I was baby? Shit just isn't that serious, but broads get to me. I love them all, some more than others, and every female likes to play with my emotions. Deep down, I am sensitive, when it comes to getting close to others and opening up. I'm more afraid of getting judged for the things I do, than I am fearful of those very serious things I actually do.

That's one of the reasons I hold Julie so dear. I've opened up, have been me, and she accepted me, just like someone else I know . . .

_I needed another drink._

"A trade sounds good," Sonny said.

"Oh, come on." I widened my arms. "Who'd miss him? Let something productive come from this day."

"Joe's got his button. We'd need to have a sit-down."

"Us? Me and you? We can't just . . . ? Dad would have our backs," I laughed.

Sonny shook his head no. "There are certain things . . . rules not even Dad can change, and we bend more rules than the Catholic church." He frowned. "We can't just do what we want. After we all talk tomorrow, you'll realize . . . Once you're a member, when you're outside of the house, Dad's not our father. He's our boss. You think Dad won't yoke us up if we fucked around? I don't get any special treatment. I pay tribute and follow the same rules as everyone else here. All the money I ever took from your profits, from the jobs you've done, some of that went to Dad. That's how it goes . . . this thing of ours." He stared off into space.

"If Kylie hadn't taken off, I could see Pop giving me his blessing, but . . . because of _what_ I gave Joe, he's on his way to being a top earner. Even if he goes to another crew, I can't take back what I've already given him. He's worth more alive than dead. It's business, Dame, and taking him out of the equation would mean _bad_ business."

"Ain't that a bitch." I chuckled.

"If it means that much to you, talk to him." He lifted the top to his MacBook. "I'm done being in the middle. It's all out in the open now; he knows. If you want something," he looked to me, "man up. Talk to Dad and see if he's down with the idea."

"No," I whispered, my face falling. "I just thought it could—" And then my phone buzzed from my pocket. "It's Mom—or Dad. It's the house." I showed Sonny my phone.

"Answer it." He shook his head.

"Hel—"

"_Have you seen your sister?"_ It was Dad. _  
_

"Uh . . . no. Is everything okay?" I asked.

"_Well, gee . . . it's close to midnight, and I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOUR FUCKING SISTER IS!" _

"Jesus . . ." I held the phone away from my ear.

"Kylie's missing?" Even Sonny heard him.

I nodded. "She's with Peto—"

"_I can't find him either. And that fucker Aro, he ain't answerin' the muthafuckin' phone!"_ He was so pissed right now. _"What kind of girl stays out that late, huh? And the day before her would-be wedding. She's not allowed—"_

"She's almost nineteen—"

"_And she still lives under my roof. Until she's married or goes off to college, all bets are off."_ He hung up on me, but then he called me back. "_Ask around—find her before I do!"_ He ended the call again.

Sonny was already shutting down his computer and putting his jacket back on.

"You're not really going out to look, are you?" I laughed.

"That's our sister—"

"Oh my God." I held my head. "I'm going back to my dorm."

"You want Dad to find her before us?" he asked. "I bet Mom's passed out, or else she would have calmed him down already."

"Fuck."

I dragged my drunk ass out of his office.

Carlisle, Caius, Anthony, and AJ were at the bar shooting tequila back. I joined them while Sonny spoke with our uncle. I only caught the ass end of the conversation, but their words tied my stomach in knots.

"It's a lot to ask, but you'll close for me?" Sonny asked Carlisle, which meant he'd be here until after four a.m.

"No worries. Go find your sister, make sure she's safe, but…your father's high strung. Don't tell him any more than you have to," Carlisle laughed.

"Thanks, man." Sonny turned to me. "Let's go."

"You need to sleep it off," Carlisle said to me while he pried the shot glass out of my hand. "Take this, too." He handed me a bottle of water, and then I followed Sonny out to his car. It was in the same spot it always is—out front—and I hopped into the passenger seat.

"I know where Kylie is," I said.

"Where? We'll grab her and head home." Sonny was fast to start the car and pull off.

I had second thoughts about telling him. I was sure Kylie was safe, and what was the harm of her chillin' with Peto? Why did these people care?

"Just—drive back to Bay Ridge."

"She's in Bay Ridge?" He got onto the highway.

"Yeah," I lied for a ride myself. "Just drive. I'll show you."

"Cool." He put some music on, and I was content to sit back and listen. I almost passed out as he drove, but woke up when we got onto the BQE. "Where is she?"

"In Bay Ridge."

"You've said, but where?" he asked.

I groaned. "What? What were we talking about?" I played stupid to buy myself a few more miles. As soon as Sonny learns that I'm fucking with him, he'll leave me somewhere on the side of the road.

"Where. Is. Kylie?"

"Damn." He had an attitude. "I don't wanna pick her up and go home . . . Can you drop me off on Third Avenue before you get her?"

He grinned. "Gonna hit up a bar?"

"You did promise to get me laid," I laughed. "You can at least drop me off somewhere."

"Good shit." He punched my bicep. "I'll meet up with you—"

"I think I need to do this on my own," I said, which made him compose his smile. "I've never picked anyone up in a bar before . . . and I'll feel all this pressure if you're looking over my shoulder. I'm fresh with the strippers . . . _because they're strippers. _And a sure thing."

He nodded. "Okay…The important thing is that you're confident. You can do this. It might…help you out of being so awkward?"

"Exactly." It was almost as easy as just stroking his ego or giving him off glances. My brother's big on that, hates when I do that. He thinks it's creepy because he doesn't know what I'm thinking. Sometimes I think he fears me. No, he could totally kick my ass without even trying. I'm kind of lanky, tall and thin, and he's a monster who likes tanning beds.

"Be assertive, be kind of a dick, and be persistent without being too weird. If you raise a freak flag, bitches run."

"Right." I smiled. "I'll just sit at the bar and wait for someone to approach me." Now that shit always happens. I never have to actually try, and if no one wants me, fuck it.

"No. The objective is for _you_ to approach someone—not the other way around. Dude, Imma say this, okay?"

I gestured for him to continue.

"You're a good-looking guy. If you weren't, I wouldn't claim your homely ass. And I don't know why you're so scared of pussy—"

"Whoa . . . I'm not scared," I laughed.

"You have a fear of rejection—"

"We all do. As human beings, none of us likes the word no." I didn't know where he was going with this. "I'm handsome. So fucking what? And what's wrong with finding a meaningful connection? Just because I don't fuck anything—"

"Stop. I don't do that either."

I spoke over him. "Yes, you do."

"Meaningful connection?" He barked out a laugh, and we were that much closer to Bay Ridge. "If some decently attractive female even looks at you for more than a second, you think it's true love—that youse had a moment." He sounded wistful. "You walk around half-delusional. Sometimes sex is just sex, and you need to get over these hang-ups."

I shrugged. "If I'm ever desperate, which I never am, I'll just . . . get a prostitute." I wanted to gauge his reaction.

"Never pay for it. What are you—out your mind?" he shouted.

"You pay Lori—"

"Not to fuck me," he laughed.

"You sign her paychecks. If you didn't, you'd just be some other fucker who—"

"Lori quit," he whispered. "Said she had feelings for me, and she couldn't…be causal any more. She gave me this ultimatum, and I said I'd approve her unemployment claim, and that she could have three more months of medical coverage. . ." He looked to me. "That's crazy, right?"

"Why?" I grinned. "Because someone you were sleeping with on a daily basis actually felt something?"

"Well, yeah. We didn't do anything but fuck. Geez. I mean—"

"Sonny, Katie's married."

"I know that," he said.

"It might not be a bad thing to open up is all I'm saying." I pushed my hair back, and then checked to see if I still had a condom in my wallet.

"Glove compartment—if you need more. You never know. Isn't it funny how back in the day, people kept actual gloves in there, but now fuckers like me keep _gloves_ in there?" He thought he was hilarious while he deftly avoided everything I'd said.

"You don't know for sure if that kid is yours. If it comes out with a natural tan, it might be Raul's. You know?" I think that dude is Puerto Rican or something. Hell if I know.

"It—it's a girl, a she, not an 'it', and I don't know. I think I'm the father."

I shook my head. "You walk through life never taking no for an answer, and yet—"

"Don't talk about things you know nothing about." He was short, which meant he was about to lose his temper. "Raul's a good man. He's a teacher. When they got married, Katie removed herself from this garbage. It was what she always wanted, to get away from Bay Ridge and her pop's reputation. And I—I'd already made my bed. There was no going back, so how could I persist, and make her be a part of something she hates? She'd end up hating me, too."

I nodded. "You're right, but...if she loved you, if she really, really cared for you—"

"She'd overlook it?" he laughed. "Dame, she shouldn't have to—that's the difference. I'd never ask her to or condemn her."

"You really love her."

"I always have." He shrugged. "And what I do otherwise has nothing to do with my personal feelings, or lack thereof, or Katie at all. If she wants me, I'm here. If she doesn't, I say God bless. What _else_ can I do?" he spoke with his hand.

"You can get your girl is what you can do." I nodded. "Fuck all that. You do need to ask yourself this, though. Would you still want her if that turned out to be Raul's kid?"

Maybe I _don't_ understand.

Because the mere thought—the notion—of my uncle touching, breathing near Alex bothers the fuck out of me, even if that's her husband, and I'm technically—through marriage, only—her nephew.

That goes for Julie, too.

I'd wanna kill any fucker who touched what was mine.

"I've dated single moms before—"

"That's not what I asked you." We were already driving along Third Avenue, so this conversation didn't have to last much longer. "She'd fuck you, and for all you know, she would go home and fuck him, too—" The car swerved when he reached out to grab my collar.

"Just stop talking. Stop this bullshit and tell me where Kylie is." He let me go, and I tried not to laugh.

"Pull over. I'll chill at Shenanigan's." I pointed to the Irish pub up the street from my uncle's house.

He did as I said, double-parking as he huffed out breath after breath.

"I'm sorry."

"Where is she…? It's been a long night—a long fucking day. All I wanna do is go home and sleep." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I'll have to stay awake long enough to know Dad won't kill her, so please."

I took off my seatbelt and quickly left the car, nearly stumbling when I was out.

"You don't need any more booze, bro."

"She's at AJ's," I said.

He blinked a few times.

"Just give her tonight," I pleaded, backing away from his car. "Don't tell Dad just yet. Wait a few hours, wait for him to calm down—"

"What?" he shouted, rapidly leaving his whip. "AJ lives on top of La Bella Italia—in Little Italy. You had me go from Midtown, to Bay Ridge, all for me to have to go back to Manhattan?" He slammed his fist onto the hood of his car.

This was my reasoning. All of this had to happen, so I could get the result I wanted…and a ride, and I prepared myself for the blow. "Wait a bit and let Dad calm down—" He knocked me in the jaw, and I fell to the ground.

"Do you always have to be such a ball-buster?" He yanked me up by my collar again.

"Fuck you—pussy! Half-a-gangster, wannabe—" I didn't mean any of those words, but they got him to punch me again. Sonny is the epitome of wise guy, despite having a shaky trigger finger. He has no real fears, not like I do, and he's all business. Alas, I play on his insecurities any-fucking-way. "Fuck!" I held my nose when I felt the trickle of blood.

"You're fucked up." He pointed to his temple. "There's something wrong with you—fucking with people all the time." He didn't say anything else. Sonny got back into his car and took off fast, making his tires screech. "Asshole!" I still heard that while his car went further and further away.

"Are you okay?"

I looked up to a cute redhead with these blue eyes. "Um—"

"Angie, get some ice," she shouted to someone in the bar as she bent low. "That guy's crazy."

I nodded, sitting up and holding my nose.

"Lemme see." She reached for my face.

"I'm fine—no fractures, just a bruised ego." I grinned.

She smiled at me. "You—your eyes . . ." She locked hers onto mine, and I didn't look away, held her stare until she blushed. "Did, um, you wanna come inside?" Her friend came out and handed me a towel that had some ice in it.

"No," I said, standing and brushing myself off. "Thanks for this, though."

"One drink?" the redhead asked.

"I'm sorry. I have someplace to be—"

"A girlfriend?"

I looked around us, surprised. I didn't know her from anywhere, and she's asking such personal questions. "I'm married—we have nine kids, some are adopted. The old lady has a big heart… That was my bookie…made a few bad bets." I jerked my thumb to the street.

The young chick, who looked about my age, winced and backed away from me. "Right. Well, take care of yourself."

I smirked as I dumped the ice out of the towel. After I cleaned myself off, making sure to get blood on my suit and rip the collar—I must have looked like a nut job—I walked down the block.

Then when I was in front of my uncle's house, I took my cell from my pocket and called Alex.

She picked up on the second ring. _"Hello?"_

"Hi," I said, rolling my eyes. I couldn't think of something better to say?

_"It's late—everything okay?_" I saw the lamp turn on in the living room.

"I'm outside."

There was silence on the other end.

"Hello?"

She opened the door instead, wearing a robe and then tightening it.

I ran up the stoop and stopped short.

"Who are you running from?" She fussed over me now. "What happened to you? You're a mess! Oh my God. Get inside!" She pushed me, and I smiled as I entered, only to frown facing her. "Call your uncle—or someone. Tell them what happened." She was scrambling, opening a locked drawer by the door before she produced a Glock Nine.

When she loaded it, I stood there in awe of her.

"Dame? Were you followed?" She stood on her toes to look out the peephole on the door. "Damion!" She turned. "This isn't the time to be quiet. Who did this to you—fuck, was Anthony with you? Where is he now?" Alex was freaking out.

"Relax. Ant's fine…so am I."

She blew out a breath, shaking her head. "What happened?"

I shrugged, turning to walk into the living room, where I also stopped short.

There was a makeshift bed of all these different colored pillows. Champagne on ice and all these candles were lit. It was a very romantic scene with a fire burning to boot.

"Wow," I said without sound.

"Can you talk to me?"

"What's all this?" I didn't bother facing her.

She walked around me and started to blow out candles. "I was—was waiting for your uncle. He's not picking up his cell, but he might answer for you." Now she looked pissed. "I'm sorry." Alex held her forehead. "Are you really okay?"

I nodded. "Are you?"

She placed the gun on the coffee table. "I'm not the one who got beat up—ice. You need ice."

I stopped her from leaving the living room.

"Damion . . ." It was a warning.

"Just look at me."

"What? I don't—"

"You never look at me anymore." She never does, not directly at my face, or into my eyes. Alex will talk my ear off, but she won't . . .

My only guess is that she feels this too—whatever this is. We actually did share a moment over a week ago. We almost kissed on the couch, but then she slapped her own face, ran out of the room, and has hardly spoken to me since. We had no choice but to converse at the party.

"I don't even know how to answer that." She looked up to me. She actually did it, only to cower back fast. "I look at you . . . Now, what happened?"

I walked over to the couch instead. If she wanted to hear my words, she had to follow, and she did. "Nothing happened. Sonny was being an asshole . . . I could lie—make up this story about how someone chased me here."

"Thank you for being honest," she sighed, pulling her robe to cover more of her legs. "Are you okay to walk home, or should I call your mom?"

"Uh—"

"I _will_ call your mother." I got another warning. "You're being weird—"

"Talk to me about that night," I said. "You keep avoiding me."

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I was drunk . . . you were so sweet and here. I have no excuse, and I feel horrible about that. But what's important is that nothing happened."

I nodded. "Did you want something to, to happen?"

"No!" she shrieked. "Dame, you're my nephew—I'm married to your uncle. There's a list of things I could say . . . I was lonely, Ant fell asleep, and we'd just finished watching _The Notebook_." I personally hated that movie, and it made Anthony cry. "Just please—forget it happened, okay?" She stood from the couch. "If you're feeling better, help me clean this place up . . . I thought Carlisle would be early." She started throwing pillows onto the recliner.

"He's closing up Eclipse for Sonny—"

"Eclipse?"

"Yup." I nodded, smiling. "We all had a blast, even Anthony—going shot for shot, and the talent they have there. My God—" I kissed my fingers.

"Stop," she whispered.

"My uncle's a fool—"

"What?" she asked.

"He has you at home. You put those skanky bitches to shame, number one. You outshine all of them."

Alex grinned down to the floor. "Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but—"

"Fuck that. You're gorgeous, and if he'd rather be there than here with you . . . with the pillows, the candles, the Cristal, and I bet you're wearing kinky lingerie . . . he's a fool." I was still crazy drunk, yet I also still had my head.

And my words made her giggle, which was awesome. "Thank you for saying that."

"Why can't you see me the way I see you?" I whispered, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest.

Her face fell. "Dame . . ." She came back over to the sofa to sit, and she surprised me when she grasped my hand. "You're hot, okay? You're a very handsome dude." She pinched my cheek, which wasn't exactly the contact I sought. "You can have any girl out there—"

"That's just insulting." I stood up. "You're not into me, it's whatever. I'm sorry I bothered you." I was embarrassed, taking such a huge chance on fate, coming here, and being honest. What the fuck was the point? "I'll let myself out—"

"Do you know what I _should_ see when I do look at you?" she called out to me.

I kept my back to her.

"_Lumière_ . . . the little boy pretending to be a candlestick, the little boy who had an uneven smile, who'd cry if someone so much as killed a spider . . ." She grasped my bicep, and I turned to her. But this time, I was the one who couldn't face her.

"The cute and easygoing kid who begged me to go into Pooh ride with him because he was scared . . ."

"I wish I was still that guy," I admitted in a whisper.

"He's still in there." She placed her hand on my chest. "You're a good guy. I know it…I know how loving, caring, and sweet you can be. When you let go…that shines."

I shook my head.

"You're not rotten, Damion. What I'd like to know is…What happened to you?"

"Nothing." I rasped. "I grew up, I guess."

She shook her head, disagreeing but wearing a smile. "Remember Disney? There was the thunderstorm . . . you and Ant climbed into bed with me."

"The lightning freaked him out."

"Yeah," she laughed. "It wasn't the thunder."

"God was bowling." I grinned. Her story was the only reason we didn't fear the thunder, but Alex couldn't come up with a crazy story about lightning. "You should have said that God was using the flash on his giant iPhone."

She snorted. "That's a good one."

I grinned down to her, feeling warm inside, like everything—no matter what happened—would be okay. Then I swallowed, nervous and ready for the inevitable "There's a 'but' coming, isn't there?"

"That's what I _should_ see; that's what I _want_ to see." She walked away from me, going back to sit down. "Now you're a man. Now you look at me, like I'm this beautiful person, you look at me the way I wish my husband did, and it's the most confusing bullshit ever." She palmed her face. "Because somehow things changed. You're here with Anthony, and then _we_ talk. We have these great conversations . . . and you always say the right things." She paused, wiping her tears away. "I need you to stop doing that. Don't flatter or comfort me...I'm your aunt. I'm older and should be doing those things for you...And most of all, I need you to stop trying to _hurt_ me. You know things—you know the shit your uncle is doing, and although I can appreciate it, I don't want to hear about it. It doesn't make you look better, or make me want you. It's just mean."

"You love him." It wasn't a question.

She nodded. "I do, faults included."

"Do you . . ." I didn't know what to say, as I took a seat again.

"Do I what?"

"Can you ever see me as…something other than your nephew?" I asked, nearly stammering over my words.

"I love my husband. But more than the vows we've shared, I'd never—ever—disrespect or betray your mother."

"My mother has nothing to do with—"

"She's my best friend," she said.

"How can you speak of vows when they don't mean anything to your husband?" I took another risk and grabbed onto her hand.

She let me hold it and closed her eyes tightly. "It doesn't matter." She opened her eyes and more tears spilled. "I'll admit . . . there's something here, between you and me. It's weird, and I don't understand it at all, but…two wrongs don't make a right, and do you really want to have an affair? I mean, consciously? We're sitting here, talking about this crazy possibility . . . No, it's crazy, wrong—"

"But you think about me." The side of my mouth turned up, as much I tried not to smile.

"No . . . _Carlisle_," she said his name like it pained her. "He'd kill you, me too, and then your father would kill him. All you men understand and react with is violence. It'd be this cycle. Our feelings, whatever they are, would lead to catastrophic events. Us—doing anything, would hurt so many people. I—we have children. This house isn't perfect, but it almost is…this would destroy my babies." She stared at the carpet. "And when it comes to my husband—I'll be honest. I won't lie to you— I still love him too fucking much. I can't imagine being with someone else."

"So, you have—you've thought about this, me, the possibility of us a lot?" That thrilled me more than anything else had in years. "Don't think. No one has to know—" I scooted closer and placed my arm around her shoulder. She felt fantastic and warm; my stomach filled with butterflies at just having her in my arms.

"Damion." She stiffened.

"Look at me."

"Let go of me!" She pushed me away.

We both became quiet, while I stared at the nine on the table. It all came back to a nine—not what it is, but what it means, a piece of stupid metal. "I'm sorry." I toyed with the barrel, making it swerve on the glass top of the table. "I can't help the way I feel…no one can."

"That's not a toy—"

"Do you know how to use it?" I held it in my hand. It didn't have the same weight the one to the side of my waist did.

"I've…gone to the range with your mom," she whispered.

"My mom," I laughed, pointing it to the wall. "This is lightweight—good for you, your personal use."

"I don't carry it around. It stays locked up."

"You should always be protected—"

"I have a driver."

"I could—"

"Dame, just put that down and go. Please, before anyone even finds out you were here." She sounded exasperated.

I ignored her words. "What do you think? Does a gun make the man, or is it the other way around?"

"I don't know." The fact that she wouldn't face me, seemed to be trying to blow me off, angered me.

"Answer the question."

"I'm asking you to leave," she said. "Please, just go."

"Look. At. Me." I demanded, touching the tip of the piece right under her chin.

Her eyes were filled with tears as she turned to face me.

"Thank you—"

"Damion…"

"I'd never hurt you." The skin on her neck was smooth, and the gun glided down, all the way down to her cleavage. Her paleness against the black steel was a beautiful contrast. "Look at me." She had her eyes closed and opened them fast. Our gazes became locked. I held hers, and I never wanted to let it go. The barrel loosened her robe, and then I opened it—all while we stared into each other's eyes.

"Dame, please—" Her voice was filled with emotion.

"Shhh," I soothed.

"I don't know you at all anymore." She sniffled and sobbed, turning away from me.

"Don't be scared," I whispered, and I wanted to look at her body, but there was something so much more stimulating about her stare. Was it lust, or fear, that I saw in her eyes? I didn't know, but the more I stared, the more excited I became.

"Just—" I placed my lips to hers for a soft kiss.

That's all I wanted: my shot.

And while we kissed, I heard my heart beating loudly and so-fucking-fast in my ears. My stomach was flipping. All these things were happening that had never happened before.

I was able to feel, truly feel.

But then I deepened it, moaning low, holding her to me tightly, while our tongues tangled in a sloppy yet perfect kiss.

My mind was blown. I was riding a high of a lifetime, and all we were doing was kissing. When her hands squeezed my shoulders, I shivered and leaned over her, pushing her back and down against the sofa cushions so that I could finally see my prize.

She wore this black one-piece thing. It had lace and hugged her curves. Her breasts were spilling over the top, and I wanted her to turn around, but then she might have a chance to think. "You're gorgeous." My body scooted lower, so I could place kisses down her chest and her bodice.

When she started to pull my hair, too hard so that it almost hurt, I stopped from undoing those little buttons by her crotch.

"Get off me." That's when I felt the nine on my neck.

"You wouldn't," I said, smiling and resting on top of her on the couch. My hands rested on either side of her head, and her eyes . . . they were ice cold. "You want me." I nipped her lips, feeling bold. "You're just too chickenshit." My hips gently bucked against her, wanting her to feel me.

"Don't do this." She gulped, looking away, and her center was so warm . . .

"Do what?" I rubbed myself onto her again, eliciting another sound from her. "I won't fuck you . . . Just let me make you come." My nose skimmed the tops of her breasts. "Please?" I looked into her eyes. "You're so sad . . . I just wanna make you happy."

"No—"

My eyes widened and my heart stopped for a second. "You kissed me back," I said, my chest heaving.

"No, I didn't," she whimpered. "And—and—" she was shaking, "and I—Damion, just get off of me. I'm saying no. Don't do this," she cried.

I let out a loud groan, flying back and off of her. "What the fuck was that then?"

She was fast to run across the room, tying her robe closed. Alex looked like she was hyperventilating. "Go . . . just leave." She pointed to the door.

"Alex…" I stood from the couch, and then she backed away even more. "I—"

"I won't—I won't say anything." She shook her head. "Just—" Her shaky finger was still pointed to the door.

I felt sick to my stomach as I stared at her. "Don't do this," I begged. "You have feelings for me. You just can't tell me—"

"Listen to me, Dame." Alex stepped toward me, but then stopped. "We can't. This never happened."

I blew out a breath, righting my clothes. "I think I might be—"

"Don't."

"—in love with you."

"No, you're not," she sobbed, sniffling. "You're confused, mistaken."

"Then what are you?" I pulled on my hair.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "I'm in love with my husband. No matter what he might have done, no matter how many late nights . . . no matter how much I bitch, none of that changes how I feel about him." She wiped her eyes.

I stared at the ground, pissed the fuck off. "He sticks his dick in—"

"I don't have proof of that." She shrugged. "And stop saying that to me. You keep telling me about all these horrible things . . ." She paused, contemplative, and then stared up at me. "Damion, are _any_ of them true?" She walked closer to me. "Are they true? Is he really seeing that blonde from the club? Because _you_ told me that—_you_ said he was, that YOU were looking out for me, but . . . Tell me the truth."

Of course, I lied to her, have been lying to her. I've just been that desperate—desperate for her to see me as something different. I wanted to be her man. I want to take care of her in ways my uncle can't, or won't. So what if I have no concrete evidence of him doing her wrong. He either is or will, and does it make a fucking difference?

"It doesn't matter! You kissed me back," I shouted. "You want me."

She shook her head.

"Don't." I felt tears well up in my eyes. "You've been here for me, too . . . the way you look at me. Alex . . ."

"You lied to me," she whispered.

"I—"

"You lied!" she screamed. "How could you…?"

I didn't know what to say, but her denying her feelings for me was starting to anger me even more.

"Get out!"

I refused, standing and staring at her.

"Just leave. We forget this happened, and . . . and you stay-the-fuck-away from me. You stay away from me, my kids—"

"No," I said. "Ant's my best friend, and I won't stay away from you either." I shrugged, cracking a smile at her ridiculousness.

"The twins," she cried, fisting her hair. "I only want to be around you if others are there . . . You're scaring the fuck out of me right now . . . How could you?" She continued to cry quietly, and then she slumped low, slid down the wall to sit against it. "My God…" She tossed the gun away from herself, and then banged her head back against the wall.

Cautiously, I walked over and bent low to touch her cheek.

"Don't!" She smacked my hand away.

I grasped her chin, making her look at me. "You kissed me back. You have feelings for me. Why are you acting like this?"

"You're scaring me—"

"You love me." I nuzzled my nose to hers.

"Not like that," she whispered. "I don't love you like that. This is a mess, and I'm asking you now not to do something you'll regret. No is no, and you need to learn quite a few things about boundaries. Don't hurt me. You'll regret it. You'll hate yourself tomorrow."

"I'd never." I breathed. "I could never." I crawled to the side of her to sit, draping my arm over her shoulders. "Relax, okay?" I kissed her hair.

She started sobbing again, burying her head into my side. "I'm sorry." She hugged me tightly. "I'm confused, too . . ."

"I'm not confused—"

"Yes." She sniffled. "Why did you lie? You manipulated me—creating problems just so you could comfort me?"

I hated to admit that, but I nodded my head in confirmation. All of which made her cry even harder. "I'm sorry."

Alex laughed through her tears. "No, you're not . . . that's what's so funny. You're not sorry."

"Okay . . . I'm not."

"Even if I developed these…feelings, I won't act on them, and I need you to respect that—especially since they sprouted because of a lie—my God. I'm so stupid." She pushed against my shoulder. "How could you do this?"

Again, since I had nothing to lose, I was honest. "I need you."

"You don't."

"I do . . . I feel a physical need for you. I ache for you when you're not around." My face crumbled, and I couldn't even remember the last time I'd cried. "You're the most—" I sighed, "you're just perfect. You make me feel like, like I'm normal? If that makes sense. I can talk to you—more so than I can anyone else."

"We were friends." She held my hand. "That's why . . . You have to take risks, and you have to open up to other people, because, it's hard _not_ to fall in love with you."

My stomach tied knots, feeling sick of this whole ordeal. "We can leave. I have money. I can take care of you—"

"No," she rasped. "That's insane. You need sleep." She held my cheek. "You need to sober up, get some rest, and everything—you'll realize how crazy this all is in the morning."

I swallowed, shaking my head. "You don't understand—"

"I love your uncle. I'm in love with your uncle, the father of my children."

I rolled my eyes. "Alex—"

"I don't love you." She scooted away. "You're a boy." She left the floor, picking up the discarded nine and crossing the room. "I don't want you."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You're—"

She smiled. "Get real. Why would I leave all this?" Her lip quivered. "My husband provides for me. I love him, not you—never you."

"You're lying."

"Leave my house, or I'll call your father."

I barked out a laugh. "Is that so?" I walked closer to her.

"You manipulated me!" she shouted, lifting the gun in her hand. "You lied to get the reaction you wanted out of me. You did this. Why the fuck would I want you now, huh? You're my nephew . . . a little boy."

"Put the gun down." I demanded, ready to shake her for being so-fucking-stubborn—frustrated with her for pointing that shit at me. "Put it the fuck down." My hand flinched to mine, but I wanted to keep my head.

"You think I won't?" She actually stepped onto the couch to get farther away from me. "I'd pop one in your foot—it'll hurt enough to stop you."

I reached for her.

"Don't fucking touch me!" She aimed higher, the look in her eyes cold and calculated again. She wasn't fucking around.

"Okay." I put my hands up so she could see them. "I'll leave." I nodded.

She visibly relaxed a little.

"Kiss me and I'll go."

"Christ almighty!"

"Okay," I laughed. "I guess that's a no?"

"That's a hell no. Now get the fuck out of my house!"

I laughed all the way out the door—a pissed off, hysterical mess. All the signs were there. They all pointed to go, and then she says no—turns me down.

Confused as all fuck, I marched up the street, needing another drink, or ten.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **

**Part Two posts tomorrow and then next Wednesday we'll see what Kylie's been up to!**

**Dame's in for a loooong night. LOL. **


	6. Damion Part Two

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

***Giggles* Dame's a nut job, right? I'm not sure if I agree...Okay, yeah, I do. He was always so lovable and funny, but with all those things happening when he was a kid, the confusion, the fear - around a time in his childhood that he truly couldn't comprehend it all . . . Some people in his shoes, might embrace that side to life, as a coping mechanism. He was always told to be brave...you know? I'm not a psychology major, but I can see that happening. He's also got some Edward in him. And, in my eyes, Lauren having sex with a 14 y/o was rape, a molestation, not just Damion got lucky. **

**Whichever way you feel . . . Enjoy!**

**He's still my favorite character :-) Because you STILL can't help but love him, and every screwy side to him, or what he calls "the masks he wears", "the roles he plays".**

**Thank you!**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Six: Damion Part Two**

_"Okay." I put my hands up so she could see them. "I'll leave." I nodded._

_She visibly relaxed a little._

_"Kiss me and I'll go."_

_"Christ almighty!"_

_"Okay," I laughed. "I guess that's a no?"_

_"That's a hell no. Now get the fuck out of my house!"_

_I laughed all the way out the door—a pissed off, hysterical mess. All the signs were there. They all pointed to go, and then she says no—turns me down._

_Confused as all fuck, I marched up the street, needing another drink, or ten._

_**/=/**_

_**T**_onight, during the last hour, I've felt more than I ever had before. I was angry, when I never get angry. I was turned on and sick to my stomach at the same time—my belly full of excitement—because even though it felt so right, I knew us fooling around was wrong—so fucking wrong.

At least I was passionate about something, I thought, as I bumped into something. My body bounced back slightly, and I came to—realizing that I knocked someone over.

"Fuck…I'm sorry." I bent down to help the woman off the ground. She must have been carrying books. They littered the space around…but then I caught sight of her bare knee. It peeked from under the gray peacoat she wore, and the white socks she had on her calves. The demure sliver of skin was sexy as hell, but then my eyes raced back to her face.

"Are you okay?" I asked, putting my hand out.

Her big, dark eyes were wide while she stared at me, leaning back on her elbows.

"Can I help you up?"

She didn't reply, and I wondered if she was deaf.

"Hey . . . Are you hurt?" I knelt onto the ground, wanting to touch her—make sure she was all right—yet afraid she might scream. "Hey…" Still no response.

"Hello?" I waved a hand in front of her face.

"Um…" She swallowed, sitting up. "I didn't see you." She pulled her white headband from her black hair to put it back.

I blew out a breath, standing up. "You're okay?"

She nodded, refusing to take my hand. "Yeah . . . I guess." Her cheeks became flushed, and she really was gorgeous. The streetlight provided enough of a glow for me to see the freckles she had on her nose and cheekbones. Maybe I was still a bit drunk and not wearing my glasses, but I could tell her face was natural. She wore no makeup, and her skin . . .

"I'm sorry about that." I pushed my own hair back, watching her gather her books. "Lemme help you—"

"I got it . . . thanks."

"I didn't see you either—" I stopped talking when she stared at me again. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you . . . ?" I waited for her name.

She bowed her head, hugging the books to her chest. "I should go." Speedily, she walked in the opposite direction from where I was going.

"Wait a sec." I caught up to her fast.

My gut told me to do so. It's not every night you literally bump into someone who looks more like an angel than a woman. She truly does, and I wasn't being a pervert about it.

My attraction toward her wasn't like that at all.

I couldn't . . . I didn't know why I didn't want her to leave yet, though.

"I have to go home."

"Let me make it up to you," I said. "I wasn't paying attention . . . There's a bar right on Third. Can I buy you a drink?"

She stopped, unleashing her gaze on me. "_You _want to buy _me_ a drink?" She pointed to herself.

I nodded. "I do…?" I waited for her name again. "Look, I'm Damion." I brushed my hand on my pants before I reached for hers, while I also wished that I wasn't such a mess.

I mean, she appeared out of nowhere.

Where the fuck did she come from?

And why the hell did I need to spend more time with her?

"I'm Maggie—I mean, Margaret Anne." She looked away from me.

I smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

Her touch was so delicate and warm; meanwhile, she barely held my hand. "I, um, I know you."

I chuckled. "You do?"

"Well…" She brushed her hair with her fingers. "You're Kylie's brother."

My mouth made an "O" shape, and I placed my hand over it. "You're Kylie's friend." I highly doubted she'd be old enough to have a drink with me.

"Sort of." She shrugged. "I should really go—"

"I'll walk you home," I sighed, having a small war within myself again. "Or…did you still want that drink?"

Her mouth pulled into half a grin. "I really—" Maggie pointed down the street.

"You know me, right? So, you know where I live," I laughed. "One drink, and then I'll bring you right home. I feel horrible for knocking you down." I tried my hardest to sound like a gentleman, and I decided that was the role I'd play with her.

She giggled. "Okay—I mean, yes." Maggie nodded and turned.

Silently, we walked side by side, and I kept my hands in my pockets. All the while, my stomach was on the verge of being queasy again—ever so curious and _wanting_ to know more about her, and yet I wasn't scared, nor was I hesitant to ask, so why wasn't I?

"Uh, do you have a fake ID?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't need one."

"Oh." I was surprised by that, grateful she was twenty-one at least. "That's—that's cool." Suddenly relieved, I sidestepped closer to her.

"Were you beat up?" she asked.

"My brother and I . . . we got into a disagreement."

"Oh . . . What about?" That was a loaded question, especially because I honestly couldn't pinpoint a reason. "I fight with my sister all the time." She stuck her tongue out. "She's always taking my stuff."

I laughed. "I know what that's like. Kylie was a little klepto."

"Really?"

I nodded, focusing on my feet as we walked to make sure I didn't bust my drunk ass. "She was always taking my t-shirts—the really cool ones?" I chanced a glance at her and found Maggie smiling wide at me. It was nice. "She'd stretch out the necks and turn them into PJs . . . It was annoying, so I can feel your pain. Then again, I'd always take my brother's stuff, too. It must be a sibling thing."

She scoffed, yet she didn't look angry at all. "Her excuse is always, 'If I asked you, you'd say no, so'," she giggled again.

"Is there an annoying sibling handbook?" I asked.

"I don't know." She held her stuff closer.

"Can I take those for you?" I reached for her books, and she let me have them. "Where were you coming from?"

"My friend's house. I was supposed to stay over, but I can't sleep at someone else's house. I don't know why."

"You like your own bed." I gathered as we approached the avenue. "You'd like my bed."

Her brows rose.

"I mean, I didn't mean it like that. I have a great mattress . . . Uh, posturepedic." After slurring that out, I heard someone shout my name.

"Cullen!" An old buddy from high school was quick to grasp my hand, giving me half a hug.

"How are you?" I stepped back, placing my hand at the small of Maggie's back.

"Good, good. You're still at NYU, right?"

"Yeah." I noticed Maggie staring at me, and then at Michael, like she was waiting to be introduced. "And you're home," I said, remembering that he'd gone into the service after graduation.

"For a bit, yeah. I'm stationed down in North Carolina."

"Mike! Get your big dick over here!" A drunken mess of a broad stumbled out of the bar. "The cab's here."

Mike laughed. "That's my cue . . . Listen, man. It was good to see you."

"Same here." I gave him a head nod, and then watched them enter a taxi. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay . . . you're at NYU?"

"You sound surprised." I opened the door to Shenanigan's for her.

"I thought you were older, but then you don't look old," she said, crossing the threshold to stop short.

"What would you like to drink?" I asked, escorting her to the bar.

"Um, a beer?"

I couldn't hear over the music. "Belvedere?"

"Yeah." She shouted, nodding, and then winced when I held her shoulder.

"How would you like that?"

"In a glass?" she laughed. "That's all I've ever had to drink—so whichever way, I guess." Maggie was flippant.

I smiled back and pointed to a booth. "Go grab us a table." My words were slurred again, and I shook the haze out of my head.

Maggie walked away while I watched her go, as I also got closer to the bar. "Hey!" I smacked the wood, feeling really good despite that huge clusterfuck with Alex. Then I vowed not to think about her again—at least not tonight—while in the back of my mind, I wondered if I'd crossed a line with her. "She wanted it," I said to myself.

"What?" the bartender asked.

"Uh . . . lemme get a double of Grey Goose, straight up. And . . ." I saw the woman next to me drinking something green out of a martini glass. "What's this?"

"Appletini."

"Is it sweet?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Can you make one with Bel-Belvedere?" The word couldn't roll off my tongue correctly. "Belvedere." I smiled to myself.

"You got it." He backed up to fix our beverages, and I stared at the booth. I couldn't see her at all, figuring she wasn't facing my direction.

"Twenty-five even."

After I paid the man, I walked back over to Maggie to have a seat. It was awkward trying to balance her books, and the drinks, but I managed.

"This looked g-good." I placed her apple martini down in front of her.

"It's green." She stared at it.

"It's supposed to taste like candy . . . I don't know. I can go back—get it straight for you?" I offered.

"No." She waved a hand. "This is—it's perfect."

I just sat there, my mind blank for conversation.

Maggie brought her drink to her lips, taking the smallest of sips before she smiled. "Wow . . . this is good. I can taste the liquor, but it's smooth."

"Good." I sat up to lean toward her. "So—"

"You didn't see me?" She swallowed the appletini much faster.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't see you either, which was weird." Her face was flushed again. "I was staring at the moon."

"Why?" I asked.

Her eyes widened. "I don't know. It was pretty? What are you studying at NYU?" She finished her beverage. "Wow…this was amazing."

"Did you want another?"

She scrunched her nose down at the empty glass.

"It's on me," I said, rising out of the booth. "I'll be right back."

This time, the bartender couldn't make the drinks fast enough, and I impatiently tapped the bar with my fingers.

Another twenty-five dollars poorer, I dropped off our drinks, and excused myself to the bathroom. I needed to take a leak and wash up a bit.

I wasn't as bruised as I'd imagined, having only the start of a black eye. My nose was a little sore, and I was able to get all the dried blood off my face. My suit was fucked, but I'd done that myself.

When I finally got back to the table, I noticed her glass was empty again. "You can knock 'em back, huh?" I teased.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Whoa—no. None of that." I snapped my fingers for the bartender to come over because I sure as hell didn't want to leave my date again. "Have as many as you want, but if you try to take advantage of me…" I waved my finger, hoping she would.

Maggie laughed out loud. "Nuh-uh." She smacked my arm.

"Another round?" The bartender twirled his finger.

"Yes, please," I said, ever-so-enthusiastic while I stared at the pretty thing across from me.

"Uh . . . can I see your ID?" He looked down at Maggie, who was trying to hide her face. "Miss?"

We both waited for her to take it out from wherever.

"It's, um—I don't have my purse."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He looked around the bar. "But if I don't see your ID—"

I sucked my teeth, pulling out my wallet. "How much will it cost for you to disappear?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" I handed him a fifty. "Go get the fucking drinks."

"I could lose my license—"

"Look at _my_ ID, then." I flashed mine, hoping he knew the neighborhood well enough to recognize my last name.

He raised a brow, standing to his full height, while he also slapped my money back into my hand. "I'll be back . . . This round's on the house."

When he left, I caught Maggie's eyes with my own. "You're not twenty-one."

"Nope." She fanned her face.

"Then why did I think you were?" I couldn't figure it out, had forgotten. I'd had too much to drink tonight, and I was drunk as fuck already, feeling really good. I warily stared at the two drinks I had in front of me. "Take a sip of this. It's Grey Goose." I slid the large shot glass over to her.

She gulped, like she was afraid.

"Just shoot it back." I made the drinking motion.

Maggie took a sip, and then coughed her brains out.

"It helps if you hold your nose, too." I reached over to pat her back. "It's smoother than Belvedere…" I wondered why she took it so hard.

"I'm okay." She lightly coughed, holding her nose. "Like this?"

"Yeah." I shrugged.

She finished off the Goose, her blush going all the way to her ears.

"Whew!" I banged my fist down. "You feel good, right?"

"It's hot in here."

"Take off your coat."

She actually reached to close it tighter, like I was asking her to strip. "I'll live . . . and you didn't have to curse at him. He's just doing his job." She glanced over to the bar.

"I didn't need to…" I admitted, reaching out for her hand. "Maybe I should just take you home?"

"Okay."

"All right." I looked to the bar and moved my hand under my chin, indicating he stop mixing the drinks. "Let's go." Quickly, I downed my drink, and then shook my head of the sudden fog, blowing out a breath.

My head was nice and fuzzy as we left.

Maggie wasn't so great on her feet, walking wobbly and leaning into me, while I was leaning into her. At one point, we just kept going left, until she actually righted me when we bumped into a parked car. I was fucked, and I needed to sober up.

"I'm sorry." She barked out a laugh, and I didn't know what was funny, yet I found myself chuckling alongside her. "I keep fudging laughing—"

"Fudging?" I thought that shit was hilarious. "How old _are_ you?"

"How old are you?" She poked my chest.

"Twenty-four . . . no . . . yeah, I'm twenty-four," I laughed at myself.

"And you're still in college?" She wore a shocked expression. "Did you get left back? I'm sorry."

"No, no...I'm out of undergrad. I'm in my third year of Medical school. I'm ahead of schedule, actually," I clarified, placing my arm over her shoulders. "You need a piggyback ride or something?"

She placed her hand on my stomach, just in time for it to jump from her touch. "I'll be okay."

"Good…" I pursed my lips, wanting to talk again. "What's so fascinating about the moon?" Looking up, I saw that it was full.

She sighed, doing the same, and we'd stopped walking. "When I don't know the answer to something, I study it, and then…it just comes to me. And sometimes I make wishes . . . I pray to God, but look at the moon."

I smiled, still staring up above. "Does it work?"

"Sometimes . . . hang on. I'll let you know."

While she focused and had her eyes closed, I became bored of the notion and decided to check her out again instead. I couldn't get a peek at her build, as she wore that heavy coat. Nor could I see her knees, but it was more than okay.

Her hair blowing in the wind had me aching to touch it—the same with her pale yet flushed cheeks. Since she was no longer holding her coat, I caught sight of a small silver crucifix around her neck.

"Are you wishing for something, or hoping for an answer?"

"Both," she said.

"'K." I stood there like an ass, not wanting to rush the magical process.

She laughed, stepping back and stumbling. "I've never been drunk before."

"Fuck." I cursed under my breath and caught her before she fell. "You all right?"

"Yeah." She held my biceps and kept her eyes closed.

I knew what she was doing, and our stances were perfect, but I didn't know if I should kiss her . . . I didn't know if I wanted to. True, I wanted to get laid tonight, but where could we go? And was I really that easy? We'd only known each other for forty-five minutes at best.

Yeah, I was that easy.

"Maggie?" I touched her cheek.

Her lids opened with a flutter. "Oh, I'm sorry." She straightened herself out and took her books from me. "I'm—I'm three houses down from you."

"You are?" I wondered why I never noticed her before.

"Yeah…My mom knows your mom from church."

"Huh," I mused. "And you know my sister? Did you graduate with Kylie?" That would at least put her at eighteen.

"What, um, what do you do for fun?"

We'd spoken over each other, and I didn't hear her. "What was that?"

"What do you do for, like, fun and stuff? Besides school." She faced me, wearing a silly grin that was adorable.

I chuckled, albeit darkly, but then I found myself looking up to the moon. "You don't wanna know."

"I do, too," she said.

I thought about telling her the truth. I mean, she wouldn't believe me anyway. "Um—" I turned to see her twirl. "Wow…were you drinking before, or…?"

"You should do it, too. It's fun."

I tilted my head to the side, swearing I'd vomit if I kept watching her spin. "You're gonna get sick."

She stopped, laughing loudly. That's when I decided to answer her. "I like strip clubs—_love_ watching women fuck, and clipping fuckers so I can play with their blood." Before I knew it, I was bent over in hysterics. "I'm a sick fuck."

"What?" I had her attention now.

"You're gonna get sick . . ."

"No, I mean—"

"I was kidding around." I stood up straight, all my amusement gone. She's no fun. She didn't pale or gasp, or run away so I'd chase her . . . to tell her I was joking? "Holy fuck," I said to myself.

"Excuse me?" She blinked.

I shrugged. "As I was saying . . . I mostly hang out with my cousin a lot, and my brother . . . I'm a movie buff, I guess."

_If porn counts_, I thought.

"Me too!" She got excited. "What's your favorite?"

I quickly racked my brain for Kylie's favorite movie, but then went with Anthony's. "_Titanic_." I nearly pissed myself, bending at the knees, I was laughing so hard.

"I never saw it . . . Maybe we can—I mean." She smacked her forehead. "I'm being weird, right?"

I shook my head. "Not at all . . . What do _you_ do for fun?"

"I read a lot, too, and I write short stories."

"Aiming to be an author?" I asked.

"No, not really. They're more thoughts—fantasies, stuff I'll never do."

"Why not? You're young . . . You can do what you want."

She shook her head. "I really can't." Maggie grasped her cross. "I once wrote about drinking and bars like that…"

I stopped walking. "What? You've never been to a bar either?"

"My dad calls them dens of sin."

"Wow." That threw me for a loop, even in my drunk-off-my-ass status. "Your family is religious?" Taking another peek at her outfit, it became pretty clear.

"Yours isn't?" she asked.

"No." I was honest. "My mother goes to church, and we're Catholic, but—" I shrugged. "What else do you write about?"

She blushed and hid her face. "Just…stuff."

I laughed. "Now I gotta know . . . what makes you blush like that." My finger trailed down her hot cheek.

Maggie pulled away to cover her face.

"Can you stop that?" I asked, highly amused. "You're too pretty to hide."

She shook her head and started walking again. "I should really go home—I don't, um."

"Hey." I grabbed her hand. "You're the best company I've had all day . . . You can't leave me hanging."

She stared down at our hands, but didn't let mine go.

"Okay, so we can't talk about writing?" We started walking again. "What else do you do? Do you go to school…?"

"Yup," she said. "When I'm not at school, I volunteer at the church. We host clothes drives and food drives…and we travel to other churches to feed the homeless."

I kept nodding, while everything she'd said impressed me. I'd definitely never met anyone like her before—that was for damn sure.

And the fact that we were literal polar opposites—not only because I was a sinner and she clearly wasn't—intrigued me.

"Do you enjoy that stuff? Or, do you only do it because you feel obligated?"

She sighed. "Well, I can't explain it, but…" Maggie was still walking crookedly. If she hadn't been holding my hand, I bet she'd have fallen down again. "I like helping people—"

"Even though you get nothing in return?"

"Ever since I was little . . . I always knew I'd—" She just stopped talking.

"Knew you'd…?"

"Serve God . . . try to heal the world, one small kind act at a time. They say it's a calling—that instance in your life when you just know."

"And you've _always_ known this?" I was skeptical, as most never do anything for nothing.

"Always," she giggled. "When did you know you wanted to be a doctor?"

I munched on my lip as I thought about it. "When I was a kid, my brother was . . . he was injured, and . . . Wait, before that, I always admired Superman and Spider-man. But those doctors, they were real heroes." I furrowed my brow. "Yeah…that's the truth." I nodded.

"Do you usually lie or something?" She kept laughing.

"All the time." I nodded, although I wasn't proud of myself. "I usually tell people it's for the money . . . I'm no hero, far from it."

"What makes you say that?" She yanked on my hand. "I bet you go on to save thousands . . ."

I shrugged. "I can't tell you why."

For some reason, I wished I could—maybe just so she could see real evil, know of the evils in this world. She looked as though she'd never witnessed any of it—innocent beyond any comprehension I'd ever have. And she had no idea what the nice guy holding her hand was capable of doing. A part of me wanted to warn her, tell her to get the fuck away from me.

"Oh . . . well, regardless. I bet you become a brilliant doctor and save many lives. Just because it hasn't happened doesn't mean it won't. Regular people become even better people all the time."

I rubbed my thumb along her knuckles. "You're a good person." I wanted to kiss her heart.

She widened her eyes. "I try to be, but…it's hard."

"For you?" I played like I was shocked.

"I know right from wrong, and yet I still went to that bar with you. Um, so yeah. I really wanted to go with you, but I knew I shouldn't."

"You're right," I said. "You should have run away screaming from me."

"Am I in danger?" She grinned with this sly little look.

It made me even more skeptical, wondering what this innocent little vixen really had on her mind. She was likely playing me for a fool, lying about that God shit. "Are you a virgin?" I knew I ruined it. Whatever I had going before, I just shitted on.

"That's none of your business," she said.

"You probably are . . . what are you, fifteen?" I let go of her hand. "You hoping I'll be your prom date?" That shit was hilarious.

"No." She walked faster, away from me.

Frowning, I was content to follow behind her—make sure she got home okay. What kind of game was_ I_ playing anyway? I had no idea what came over me when I asked her to have a drink with me.

She was young, and yet I had a hard time lying to her.

By the time we'd passed my house and she opened her front gate, I was at a whole new level of confused. Nothing made sense, and I probably shouldn't have had that last double shot.

"Thanks for keeping me company," I said.

"I'm not even tired." She kept her head down.

I didn't say anything and waited for her to enter the house.

"I, um, I write about romance," Maggie whispered. "Like, sex and kissing and stuff like that—intercourse."

"Wow . . . that's some heavy shit. You rebel, you." I mock punched her shoulder.

"I knew you'd make fun."

"I'm—" I paused for the right word.

"You're being mean so I won't like you."

I looked around myself, wondering how she could read me without knowing me.

"Just saying . . . I know what you're doing." She smirked.

I nodded. "You're—" Remembering her comment from before, I wanted to tell her she was gorgeous, and that she'd have plenty of that in her future—the _intercourse_ she was writing about. "You're a good kid—keep up the great work."

"Kid." She spat.

"Your parents think you're at your friend's house?" I looked up to all the darkened windows.

"Yeah . . . I still have some time. Did you want to sit on your stoop and talk?" She was hopeful, her eyes nearly pleading, and I couldn't understand why. "'Cause…we can't sit here," she whispered, opening the gate again.

"I'm sorry, no," I said. "I'm the last—absolute last—person you should be chillin' with." I found it funny and laughed.

"Shhh." She reached up and covered my mouth.

I composed myself, staring down to her.

And she must really want me to kiss her since she licked her lips, standing on her toes.

"Maggie." I rubbed her cheek, urging her to open her eyes.

"Yeah?" She kept them closed.

With my free hand, I massaged my forehead and looked out to the street.

Any other night, I would have never even gotten this far, meaning I never would have engaged her in conversation from the get-go. "You don't want this . . . You should go inside."

She bowed her head, standing so close I could smell her shampoo. It was floral with a hint of vanilla—sweet.

"I don't wanna go to jail." I chuckled at my joke, but she didn't.

"I'll be eighteen next month, and my friend Abigail—her boyfriend is going to be twenty. You wouldn't go to jail, but I can take a hint." She snorted, pushing off of me.

I caught her before she could leave, my hand nearly palming her ass. "Have you ever…been kissed before?"

"Lots'a times," she mumbled.

"Oh, yeah?" I was amused and reached to touch her cheeks. "Where?"

"My lips?" Her breathing picked up, her hands holding my shoulders now.

"I'm not seventeen." Again, I wasn't sure what the right thing to say was. "I'm a man, and…What if I can't stop kissing you?"

"You can kiss me."

"No, I mean—" I didn't know what I meant anymore, and I was a little dizzy.

In the drunk abyss of my mind, I couldn't understand my reluctance. I'm usually a scoundrel—but would have never engaged in conversation since I knew I couldn't fuck her. But in reality, I could. She was seventeen, the legal age of consent.

But she was good, pure, and young.

And I was none of those things.

And if I kissed her . . .

I would mark her.

Her soul, if we even have them, would likely be tainted in some way.

I was bad news.

"We can talk in my backyard." I grabbed her hand again.

She agreed, and then we walked up to my parents' house. Maggie didn't say a word, and I was quick to pull a lawn chair out for her.

"It's nothing special." Since it's fall, a large, green tarp covered the pool. There was barely any light, except for the full moon, and it was crazy quiet.

"It's nice," she whispered. "Can we sit on the grass?" She pointed before she walked over to my mother's garden.

"I guess." My suit was already fucked, so I slowly followed while I lit a cigarette.

"You smoke?" She plopped down, laughing and covering her legs.

"I do."

We sat side by side, and we both turned to look up at the moon. Some time had passed as I focused on the sky; it was clear, a dark blue, many stars were out, and it was beautiful. Neither of us said a word. I was able to hear the cars driving down the street, the occasional drunkard shouting, their voice carrying from the busy avenue that wasn't too far.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Nothing." For the first time in a long time, I wasn't thinking about anything. My mind was quiet, and I was content to sit and smoke my cigarette.

"Can I try it?"

"What?" I turned to see her reaching for my Marlboro Light, which made me smirk. "Sure…just…don't inhale." There was honestly one drag at the most left to it.

She never took it away from me. Maggie sighed, staring at me.

I stared right back. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Her voice was small. "Do you have a girlfriend?" She finally took the smoke from me.

And that placated me. It was satisfying to see something that had touched my mouth was now touching hers. "No, I don't…you gotta man?"

She awkwardly blew the smoke out, passing it back. "That's gross."

"It is," I admitted, putting it out on my shoe before I flicked it toward the driveway. "Do you have a boyfriend? Some little idiot always hoping to cop a feel?"

"No…boys…they don't really like me."

"That's bullshit," I said. "Maybe you're too pretty, and you intimidate them."

"No…they just don't talk to me."

We both turned to the house when the light on the porch came on. My father emerged from the sliding door, dialing on his cell.

"I—oh—crap." Maggie went to leave.

I stopped her. "That's just my dad."

"Dame?" My father squinted at us. "Is that Kylie with you?" With the light shining above him, he could barely see us in the darkened yard.

"No . . . Sonny's out looking for her."

My father didn't reply, still so fucking nosy. "Who's that?"

"My friend Maggie." Ironically, I felt like a teen again.

"From down the block?"

I rolled my eyes. "I guess."

"Hi, Mr. Cullen." She waved.

"Yo!" he shouted, widening his arms. "Get in the house!" I knew he was talking to me.

Finding this hilarious, I brushed my pants off as I hopped up.

"Should I go?" Maggie asked.

"No," I said. "I'll be right back." To make her stay, or _will_ her to, I kissed her forehead.

Before entering the house, I peeped that she was smiling wide.

"Get the fuck in here!" My father shook me by my shoulder. "Do you know how old that girl is?"

I nodded, straightening my jacket.

"She's a fucking baby. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I shrugged.

"You stink." He made a face, like he'd never stumbled into the house drunk before. "Take that girl home—keep your dick in your pants, and then you come right back. I mean it. I'll count the minutes."

"Ohhh, count the minutes." I waved my hands in mock horror, while I laughed my ass off. "Even if I _wanted_ to fuck her, I couldn't get in trouble. She's legal—"

"I don't give a fuck. Your mother buys cookies from her every year. We know her parents—"

"What?" I shook my head. "Are you serious right now?" I laughed at him, public enemy number one posing as an upstanding member of the community.

He narrowed his eyes. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

"We're just talking, okay?" I brought my voice down. "I could have…done something, but I didn't. She's…nice to talk to?"

He raised a brow. "Look, you need someone to talk to, you come speak to me. You need a fucking blowjob? Hell, I can arrange that shit too." He made a whole bunch of hand gestures I couldn't follow with my eyes right now. Being in the warm house made me feel even more fucked-up. "Take the girl home—you're drunk." He paused, but knowing my father was in no mood because of my sister, I also knew it wasn't the end of his tirade. "I don't know what's up with you, but get your act together. And I can assure you that whatever she has to say isn't that interesting."

"Actually—"

"No." He waved a finger. "Your cock thinks she's interesting—"

"Fine," I relented. "I'll take her right home. I won't pass go or let her blow me." I winked.

"Watch yourself." He stared at me with that deadly glare of his, and I stared right-the-fuck back. "You serious with this shit?" He grinned, walking closer to me, and I didn't move. "Lay a hand on her, and we'll have problems." He waved a finger between us.

I sighed, backing down, because there was no way I'd win a staring match with him. Especially since he'd get bored and clock me one if it lasted ten seconds longer. "Fine."

That was the moment my brother decided to come home. We heard his keys, and then saw that he didn't have Kylie with him.

"No luck?" Dad asked.

Sonny shook his head, but his gaze lingered on me. I gathered he'd just been driving around. Maybe he went back to the city. But from the look he gave me, I knew he hadn't been out looking for Kylie.

"I can't believe this." Dad held his head. "She could be anywhere."

"She's with Peto . . . I bet she's fine." I grumbled, sick of their company already.

To my surprise, my father didn't have a smart-ass remark. "We don't know that . . . We can't find Peto either. Anyone could have her." The room became silent and tension filled it. "I should wake your mother."

"Don't." Sonny stopped him. "We'll find her. She's fine, Dad. Okay? _No one_ has her."

"I bet Peto's having her right now," I mumbled through a whisper.

"What was that?" Dad asked because he doesn't miss a thing.

"I didn't say anything," I lied. "It's just...maybe she's out having pizza right now."

Sonny gave me the stink-eye, and I scratched my eyebrow with my middle finger.

Dad slowly blew out a breath, and then looked back to me. "Take that child home."

"Relax—" Sonny started.

I shook my head. "I have, uh, a friend in the back." I jerked my thumb outside.

My brother grinned. "Who? You scored some chick at the bar?" He was excited for me. "You wanna use my place?"

I thought about it.

"Lemme see." He went to walk around me.

"It's little Maggie," Dad said, putting his coat on. "In fact, _you_ take her home," he told Sonny. "Just make sure she gets in."

My brother patted my back. "I peeped her the other day—she got some rack on her now, huh?"

"You know her?" I was surprised. We've lived here for over fifteen years, and I'd never seen her before.

"No, I don't _know_ her . . . I know she's fine as fuck now, though." He smiled at Dad. "She needs a new Girl Scout uniform. She's outgrowing the one she has . . . I'll take her home. No worries."

"Fuck that." Dad spat. "You guys are nasty . . . what's wrong with youse? Did your mother and I raise you like that? To prey on little girls?"

"Pop, be easy. I was kidding," Sonny said. "And what's with the moral high ground? I get why you're concerned for Kylie, but Maggie ain't your kid, and the girls at the club aren't that much older…" My brother sounded like a fucking genius right now—logical and all.

Dad put his hands up. "We're wasting time." He knew deep down that he had no wiggle room to talk.

"I'll call a few guys—have 'em start looking, too." Sonny made for the front door, and my father followed.

No longer concerned about me, he left, and then Sonny winked while he closed the door after them.

And all of that are the reasons why I'd rather stay in my dorm. People are just too fucking nosy for their own good sometimes. Not to mention that, back at school, nearly everyone is age-appropriate.

Nevertheless, before I went back outside, I snatched a bottle of vodka from the liquor cabinet.

It wasn't Belvedere, but . . .

Maggie was lying in the grass, and it looked like she was sleeping.

"You awake?" I sat next to her.

"Yeah."

I smiled and lay by her side. "Still making wishes?"

"Just one," she whispered.

"Tell me." I turned to face her.

She matched my movements, holding her coat together again.

"What's under there?" I teased, bringing the bottle up to my lips.

"Oh, you know, my clothes…"

"What are you hiding?" I pulled on it gently, but left my hand there to test her.

"My school uniform. I was there today for one of my AP classes." She frowned. "I'm a senior at Bishop Ford."

I groaned, low and under my breath.

Having gone to the same school, I could only imagine how the uniform looked on her. I'd already gotten a glimpse at her socks—but the whole picture? Back in high school, I wasn't suave enough to have the opportunity to tear one of them shits off . . . I probably wasn't now either.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" I ran my finger along the collar of her coat.

"I don't know. Misleading you?" She reached for the vodka, and I let her have it. "But...I'm very mature for my age. Can I have one of your cigarettes?"

I pulled the pack out, and then lit one for her—doubting she could do it herself. "Party it up, Church Girl."

She giggled and fucking winked at me.

Needing to get my mind out of the gutter, I stared at the moon and lit another cigarette. She got quiet, too, and I was getting back to that peaceful place again.

"Oh, the vodka burns," she coughed.

I smiled but didn't look at her. I could only imagine the funny face she was making, and I didn't want to laugh at her.

When I heard the slosh of the liquid moving around the bottle, I did peek at her. She kept taking these small yet rapid sips.

"Whoa…" I took it back. "No more."

She blew out a breath, and then the coat came off. "Whew…that stuff is hot." The white oxford shirt was a little snug around her tits, spreading the space between one of her buttons. I could see her white bra underneath. Her hips were on the wide side, and she filled the gray kilt nicely. I bet she had an ass, too—she rocked that fucking uniform.

"Okay, fine. Take slow sips. I mean . . ." I paused, in moving, breathing—in everything—as I had a moral dilemma.

I didn't even wanna think about it, so I tossed the Absolut into the garden. The glass never broke, and it landed with a small thump. "Oops," was my lame ass response.

"You're so funny."

"I am?" Now, I didn't want to look at her at all. I had enough alcohol in me not to give a fuck.

But strangely, I wanted to . . . to give a fuck.

"You are," she sighed, resting her head on my shoulder.

I put my arm around her and pulled her close. "Is this okay?" She was soft and felt crazy wonderful against me, and I wouldn't let myself think any more of it.

"You're comfy, too."

I smiled and kissed her hair. "You're really sweet." And she was.

I had no doubt as to whether I was attracted to her. But I wasn't into her the way I usually was with other broads. I felt she could be my friend?

I didn't want to fuck her—

No, I really did—and turn Daddy's Little Saint into my personal hellion, my little slut.

I already had her drinking and smoking, and how long would it be before she'd smoke my cock?

And I was back to that conundrum; meanwhile, the option to stick my cock in her will likely never be available to me.

"So are you . . . I really like you."

"You don't know me," I laughed.

"Oh, well, I think I know enough to like you," she whispered.

I dug that, because it was true. The little I knew about her, I liked a lot. "I like you, too." I smiled up to the few stars I could see. "You're cool."

"Wow."

"Wow, what?" I asked.

"No, just—wow. You like me . . . Damion Cullen thinks I'm cool." She squealed, sounding like a piglet.

I shrugged, wondering what wasn't to like. "You're like an angel . . . I feel at ease with you—I don't know. You took my previous worries away—with your presence alone." Then my lips drew a tight line, knowing we couldn't be friends. There was no way in hell we could. Even being platonic with a seventeen-year-old at my age is frowned upon—although fucking one isn't against the law.

"It's a good thing we bumped into each other, then, huh?" she laughed.

"I'm bad news," I whispered, taking my arm out from under her. "I'm not drunk enough to not care."

"What's that mean?"

I refused to look at her. "You don't need me in your life—I do bad things, and I'll leave it at that. I can't elaborate."

"Well, then stop doing bad things," she giggled. "I think you're way too hard on yourself. Everything happens for a reason…we met, and…well, I don't know what it means. But the thought of saying goodnight…I don't wanna say goodnight to you, and I keep wishing that you'll kiss me. But I know you probably don't see me that way. I bet," she laughed, "I bet you date like, models, or those really pretty girls at your school?"

I shook my head, and I felt myself shutting down a little. And I definitely didn't want to get into all the reasons why she was wrong.

"You're the prettiest man I've ever seen."

That made me grin and take a quick glance at her. "Prettiest?"

She was now way too close for comfort. "You're hot." Her face blazed red, her eyes downcast. "I see you all the time, but you never see me, and…I don't know."

I nodded. "Right…Do you usually wear glasses, because…" I laughed, and she hit my arm, only to hold my hand.

"Nope. I have perfect vision." We stared into each other's eyes for a beat too long. "20/20." She was the first to look away.

"You'd probably do _anything_ I asked you to." That thought scared me, when nothing usually does, and intrigued me at the same time. "Huh?" I grasped her chin, turning her to face me.

She licked her chapped bottom lip, and her eyes were half-closed. "I couldn't say no before—I didn't—didn't want to. And if you're worried about that other thing—I mean, you can kiss me. It's okay. I want you to really badly." Then her eyes filled with tears, her button nose turning a shade of pink. "Did I really just say all that?"

"You did . . . and don't cry, or I'll take you home," I whispered.

"Sorry."

I nodded. "What's this other thing I'm worried about?" I took her hairband away from her head, letting her hair fly in the breeze.

"Go-going too far? I know you won't."

"I already have," I said, and I was still wanting—wanting more, wanting NOT to care. Since when do I give a fuck about anything?

"What do you mean? You haven't—you won't even…kiss me," she grumbled. "It's okay. I get it—you're not interested." She turned away.

That just wouldn't do, and I made her look at me again. "If I kiss you, chances are we'll end up fucking right here—in the grass. I'll want to stop, but I don't know if I will, and you won't tell me no."

She swallowed loudly, shivering like she was cold, before she pulled her coat up around her shoulders. "I—I—um."

I leaned my forehead to hers, helping her into it. "I'd leave your jacket on . . . but I'd steal your panties, and just lift your skirt a little." My finger drew circles on her knee. "I'd kiss and tongue your pretty little cunt until you woke the neighbors . . ." I flattened my hand, grasping the inside of her thigh, and it was the softest piece of flesh I'd ever touched. "Fuck . . ."

"What else?" Her chest heaved.

I swore my heart stopped for a second. "I'd—I'd kiss you, long and sloppy so you could taste your pussy . . ." I felt her breaths coming out labored. They were hitting my face, and I inhaled—wanting each one, while her hips squirmed. "Are you wet?" My nose skimmed her cheek.

"Um…" She tentatively placed her arms around my neck. Her soft touch at the nape of my neck, her tickling the small hairs there, did something crazy to me. "Yes." She rose to her knees, clamping her thighs closed.

My hand was still in there, held captive by her. "Do—" I stopped myself from asking her to come inside with me.

"What? Please ask me?"

"Oh, word?" I laughed at myself and the situation. I was so worked up, and we were only talking.

Then I thought about possibly turning her off again.

Then again, this bible-toting little freak has done nothing but surprise me all night.

Then I thought, fuck it. "We can go chill at my brother's apartment on Fourth Avenue . . . Nobody needs to know anything. We can do what we want, talk . . . or fuck—I can make you feel good. And then . . . I'd leave you alone . . . You said you don't wanna go home."

"Why would you leave me alone?" She moved to sit on my lap, and I let her. "Is that your…?" Maggie moved her ass to lightly graze my Glock Nine.

"No." I smiled, hugging her waist to me. "This is." I bucked my hips, and her eyes widened.

But little by little, my true self was coming back.

Because now I wanted her in that way.

And I was starting not to give a shit.

"Would you do that? Would you spread your legs for me? Let me taste you?" Both of my hands went up her skirt, just so I could brush her thighs and her hips with my fingers, an innocent gesture. "Maggie?" I nuzzled my nose to hers, withdrawing my hands so I could play with her hair.

Her nails dug into my shoulders, a small whimper coming from her lips.

"Huh?" I kissed her cheek, my mouth traveling to her ear. "Can I fuck you?"

"Yeah," she breathed, leaning into me. "Heck, yeah."

"Say 'fuck'," I gently nibbled her earlobe.

"Fuck." She squeaked, which made me crookedly grin.

"Not here," I said. "Not where people can see. It'll be light out soon."

She nodded, gulping loudly. "When will—will I see you again? After we make love, I mean."

"You probably won't . . . unless I want you again," I lied, since I knew I'd want her again, and again, and again—half in love with this chick already, or maybe just the idea _of_ her.

"Oh…"

"And we wouldn't be making love." I pulled her hair back to expose her neck. "There's a difference between that, and some fucking—and I'd fuck you. But you'll love it either way." I nipped her collarbone. "Would that be okay? I'd go slow . . . at first."

"I'm-I'm-I'm a virgin."

"That's what makes _you_ special." I scraped my teeth along her jaw, splaying my hand on her neck. "Tell me how wet you are."

"I don't know," she whispered.

"Touch yourself." I groaned. "And then I want you to put your finger in my mouth."

Her movements were slow as she reached between us to get under that skirt. I knew the moment she'd made contact with her pussy. She moaned, pushing her tits against me.

"Touch your clit. Roll your finger around it, and then slide it down." I tried to get my breathing under control—about to lose my shit.

"Wow." She convulsed, and I wore the widest smile ever.

"Good girl," I crooned, reaching for her hand. Her finger glistened in the moon glow, and I sucked it back gently. "Christ. You taste good." I took it back into my mouth again, swirling my tongue around. My eyes rolled, loving the taste of her arousal—the taste of her.

"Your mouth—" She licked her lips.

"What about it?" I hugged her tighter to me.

"It's—it's sexy."

"So is yours…come here." I leaned in, staring at her lips, ready to fucking go for it. I didn't give a shit if the sun would be out soon. Right here, right now, I needed—

"Da-Damion?" She'd stiffened.

"What?" I asked, pushing her hair away. "Can I mark you?" I stared at the pale flesh of her neck, just under her ear.

"Your mom—"

"My—" I pushed Maggie off of me, and then jumped up. My mother was standing in the doorway in her bathrobe with her arms folded across her chest.

"Go home." She pointed as she walked out, and I knew she _wasn't_ talking to me.

I looked to see Maggie grab all her stuff before she sprinted out of the yard.

"Good morning," I said. "Don't you look radiant as ever."

"Good morning?" she asked, looking a mess herself. Mom had raccoon eyes and a bird's nest thing going on with her hair. It was the best sight ever. In truth, it didn't matter what my mother looked like—just her presence alone. My hard-on disappeared within seconds, and I was grateful.

"Well . . ." I looked up to the sky, trying to play this off. "The sun's about to come—ahhhh!" I shouted, leaping away. My mother had turned the hose on.

"You fucking pervert!" She kept chasing me around the backyard, and this was not my manliest hour. "Maybe this'll cool you off!" She got me in the crotch, and the force of the water fucking hurt my dick.

"Fuck!" I sounded like a girl, slouching over and running. "Ma, stop!" I hid behind the air conditioner.

"Maggie's head of the Girl Scouts!"

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say and started laughing. "She got her Blue Balls badge tonight—" I winced when she got me again. "Look, she came on to me." I pointed to myself. "I'm the victim . . . little freaks you got running around that church."

"She's going to be a nun."

"What?" I stopped laughing.

Mom shut off the hose. "Her mother says she got early acceptance to Saint Mary's . . . I swear to Christ, if you touched her—"

"I didn't." I put my hands up. "She touched herself. I mean, I didn't even kiss her. She's still…pure."

"She's seventeen . . . you're twenty-four." Mom held her head. "What am I going to say to her mother?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Does she still want to become a nun? Or are you two in love?" My mother was buggin', or possibly still drunk her damn self. "How long has this been going on? Is she why you sneak into Bay Ridge during the week?" Using Maggie as an excuse wasn't any better than the truth. Only, it really was.

"No." Either way, I wasn't going to lie. "I just met her tonight—I'm really drunk."

Mom's jaw was set. "Go to bed, and you keep away from that girl."

I nodded. "I'll never talk to her again. I promise . . . And she should thank Jesus . . . that you woke up." I reached for the sky. "Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!" I flashed her the goofy "Dame" smile that softens her.

Mom giggled.

"Can I get an amen?" I asked.

"Damion . . . go to sleep. You look horrible." She shook her head and entered the house.

"You really saved her from damnation." I teased.

"What? So, you're older—maybe I overreacted. You know I'm a sucker for romance…She's a good girl, and I should have had more faith in you...jumping to assumptions. You're amazing…a good boy, too." She reached for my cheek.

"I'm not." I kissed her forehead. "But for a little while out there . . . I was starting to think I was." I left her in the living room, and then stumbled my way upstairs.

**Thank you for reading.**

**Please leave me your thoughts**.

**Kylie POV is up next! **


	7. Baby Girl

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Seven: Baby Girl**

**Kylie POV**

Hearing a thump and then waking with a start, the sun shining through the half-open curtains nearly blinded me.

But I wore a smile and nothing else apparently.

Squinting, I leaned up on my elbows and looked down to my naked body covered by the sheet. "Hey," I rasped, trailing my leg up Gio's. Last night was like a dream, and I thought I was still asleep . . . that's how amazing I felt; that's how happy I was. I sighed and melted down next to him.

He hummed, smiling wide as he rolled over. "Did I wake up in heaven?" His legs tangled with mine.

I snorted. "Cheese . . . that was cheesy."

Gio just shrugged, still staring at me.

"Um—bet I'm a mess." Self-conscious, I wiped under my eyes, noticing my fingertips black with mascara, and I knew my hair was all over the place. He kept pulling on it last night, not hard, but firm enough so that it was intense—something like that.

He reached to pat down my hair. "You're beautiful."

I smiled, always a fan of cheese and slumped low. "I love you." I doubted that I'd ever get tired of saying that.

"I love you, too." He kissed me and I was fast to deepen it and scoot on top of him. I couldn't get enough. It was like I was starved and Gio was a big slice of cake. Actually, it was like we picked up right where we left off, only with a lot more privacy.

Since we left the party last night, it felt like the last three months just disappeared. We went for coffee and talked and talked, and then we came back here—to AJ's.

The rest . . . _my God_.

Gio started kissing along my neck and weaving his hands into my hair as he sat up and took me with him. But then we heard voices, and I paused. "Did your brother come home last night?"

Gio wasn't deterred, grunting a response as his thumb found my clit. I gasped, arching my back and welcoming his mouth on my chest. He groaned, his finger leaving my pussy, palming both my tits in his big hands.

_Now this was heaven_.

"Get 'em," I sighed.

"Um . . . guys?" AJ knocked once. "You up?"

We made eye contact and smiled. "Yeah?" Gio asked and I pushed him down. He fell back. I kissed along his chest, loving how taut his abs got.

"Can you come out?" AJ asked. He sounded weird as he jiggled the locked handle.

"We're, uh, kind of busy," he was laughing, his stomach trembling, "—oh shit!"

I took Gio deep into my mouth, sucking vigorously and massaging his balls.

"Now." AJ had a stern tone.

Gio grasped my shoulders, stopping me. "What—"

I shrugged, still smiling. "Go see what he wants. I'll be here." I collapsed to his side.

He grinned, leaving the bed and grabbing a pair of sweats. "Put something on so my brother doesn't get a peek." He threw his shirt from last night at me. "That'd be the highlight of his morning, but then I'd have to knock him one."

I giggled, draping it over my shoulders as he left the room.

Then I leaned back and sighed for a minute, wanting so badly to talk to my mother. We used to be closer before I met Joe. I was immature and couldn't handle her disapproval. So, instead of talking to her, I ignored her . . . was a raging bitch to her.

Sitting up, I looked for my purse. When I found my phone, I saw that it was dead. "Shit." I looked for Gio's because I had to call my parents—to at least tell them where I am. Last night, I thought about calling and didn't. I was scared they'd ask me to come home.

I didn't find his phone, but I found a pair of socks and put them on before I looked for my underwear.

Hearing the door creak as it opened, I smiled and turned, only to frown.

My father stood in the doorway, wearing a face as hard as stone. It scared the hell out of me, and I took a step back. "Um . . ." I held the shirt closed even tighter.

"Get dressed." He wouldn't look at me. "We're leaving in five minutes." He left the room.

I let out a breath, hoping my heart rate would slow down.

Quickly, I ransacked Gio's duffle and put on a pair of his sweats. Then I just put my bra on underneath the shirt I was already wearing and tied my hair in a knot. I made sure to find my dress and Mom's shoes.

With all my stuff on my lap, I waited out the five minutes. I had one left, and I hoped Gio would be coming back to the room.

But he didn't.

Feeling embarrassed, sad, and scared, I left AJ's guest bedroom and entered his small kitchen. "Hi," I whispered, lifting my head to see my brother and Aro here, too. Gio was sitting on the kitchen counter, holding his head.

Everyone wore a frown . . .

"Let's go." Dad was the first to leave.

I looked to Gio. "What happened?"

"Now, Kylie," Sonny said, holding the door open.

Uncle Aro grasped my hand and escorted me to the door. "I'm sorry, hon . . . Give it time to cool down. It'll be all right."

"What will?" I had no idea what was going on.

"Fuck this." Gio hopped down from the counter. "Dad, can't you say something?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, no. One of you should have called instead of sneaking off."

Gio scoffed. "This is bullshit. You don't have to go—not if you don't want to. I'll take you home later."

"She does," Uncle Aro said, "if you two ever wanna continue this." He waved a finger, looking down to me. "Get home—your mom will be there. It'll smooth over."

"Okay," I agreed. My mother always said I could trust him.

"Excuse me?" Sonny left the door to block Aro from me. "Who the fuck are you to dictate shit about _our_ family? You're always involved. Step off."

Aro pushed Sonny out of his face. "Watch yourself." He pointed. "Go."

Sonny looked to me.

"I'll be out in a second," I whispered, hugging my stuff to me.

Sonny continued to stare, going from Gio to me, and he looked like he was about to take a swing at Gio. Then Uncle Aro grabbed his jacket and forced him out. It was kind of funny. My brother is so big, but Aro is bigger, and Sonny looked like a little kid. "Skip, come get this." He pushed Sonny.

"Get in the fucking car!" Dad shouted.

"Always gotta ride me!" Sonny bitched, righting his clothes.

Gio and I laughed and then turned to each other. "It'll be okay." He rubbed the back of my neck.

"It will be." AJ handed me his coffee.

I took a sip and handed it back. "Thanks."

AJ winked, leaving the room.

"I'll call you later? Maybe we can see a movie?"

I giggled. "Tonight, I was supposed to be on a plane . . . to Hawaii."

"Regrets?" He raised a brow.

"None whatsoever." I hopped up to kiss his lips.

"Kylie Marie!" My father's voice made me jump.

"I should go," I whispered, backing away.

Gio walked me out to the car, but then carried me when he saw I wasn't wearing shoes. I giggled as he placed me inside. Then I frowned when I caught my father's stare in the rearview mirror.

The ride home was a quiet one. No one said a word, and I wanted to ask Sonny for his phone, so I could text Damion or Mom. Tensions were high, and I needed to know what was happening. The way Dad was looking at me—he was so angry, more so than he would be for me just not coming home on time.

When we pulled into the garage, Dad and Sonny left the car, leaving me to do my walk of shame alone.

Mom greeted us at the door. She wore a smile until Dad pushed past her. Sonny kissed her hair, going for the kitchen.

And I stopped at the doorway, expecting the worst. Dad is hardly ever upset with me. He never yells at me. Growing up, if I was in trouble with my father, I was in even more hot water with Mom. She never lets me get away with anything.

"Did you have a good time?" Mom grinned, ushering me inside.

"What . . .?" My face crumbled and I burst into tears. I didn't know if it was relief or what. I just started crying.

"Oh . . . what happened?" She closed the door behind me. "Why is your father in such a mood?" She took the things out of my hands. "Are these mine?" She snatched her shoes away.

"Yeah." I sniffled.

She let out a low growl but recovered quickly. "I get it." She tossed the shoes onto the floor. "Your father had to be the big, stupid hero, and you didn't need saving."

I shrugged, wiping my nose with my sleeve. "I don't know. I was so happy . . ."

"And your father and brother messed it up." She nodded. "I told him you were fine. I had a feeling you were at AJ's," she laughed. "Katie told me Peto was staying there instead of her place. I may have kept that from your father," she whispered.

I nodded. "Thank you."

"But you're okay?"

"Hindsight . . . I guess." I cracked a smile.

"Good." Mom wiped my eyes. "Why don't you go take a bath and then get some sleep?"

"Okay," I whispered, turning away from her.

"Kylie . . ." She let my name hang there.

When I looked back to her, I acted on instinct. I pulled her in for a hug and held her so tight. "I love you . . . and thank you. I may not say it often—but, yeah. I love you."

Mom chuckled, rubbing up and down my back. "What did Peto do to you?"

I laughed, too. "He made things right. I don't need to think when I'm with him." She knew what I meant.

She leaned back to hold my face. "I love you, too, baby girl."

"Mommy, I'm so sorry," I was crying again. "I didn't mean—well, I—I don't know. I'm sorry for being a—a—I was so mean to you, and I love you so much, and I—I—"

"Stop." She hugged me tightly again. "You're okay. _We're_ okay . . . all right?" She rubbed my back.

I leaned away, sniffling and nodding.

Mom let me go, smiling widely. "Gosh. I'm so happy we have nothing to do now."

"All that money." I winced, thinking about it for the first time.

She rolled her eyes. "The man who owns the banquet hall owed your father a favor—don't worry about it. That's . . . that's the least of anyone's problems." I had a feeling she was lying. "Who cares?"

I nodded. "Sorry."

"Oh . . . just elope next time. No, I don't mean that," she laughed. "Go, take a shower and . . . I don't know. I'll talk to Dad." At that moment, Sonny left the kitchen with a plate of eggs.

"You fucked up last night." He stuffed his mouth. "Dad was going insane—this one was passed out." He nudged Mom with his shoulder. "She drank herself silly."

"Go watch TV." Mom pushed him.

"I'm goin' to sleep," Sonny said. "I haven't slept yet, neither has Dad, so expect him to be cranky."

Mom palmed her forehead. "Everything'll be fine. Just—you go shower, and you go nap. Sleep here, don't go home." She looked happy. "I'm just glad you're all home."

"Dame's here?" Sonny asked. "Where is he? I thought he was staying at my place." He covered his face and laughed into his hands.

Mom shrugged. "Sleeping in his room. He stumbled in a few hours ago. What's so funny?"

Sonny barked out a laugh. "He couldn't seal the deal with Cindy Lou-"

"Who?" Mom and I asked in unison.

"That-" He waved a hand. "That _stunad_ li'l thing from across the street."

"Sonny!" Mom slapped his bicep. "Her name's Margaret."

"Whatever." Sonny shrugged. "With the big eyes . . . she looks like one of those things from Whoville."

I stuck my finger in my mouth and gagged. "Why is Damion talking to the Virgin Mary?"

"Oh shit . . . that's even worse." He shook his head. "They call her that at school, don't they?"

I nodded. "She used to stare . . . at Gio and me when we'd make out. She's just weird."

Sonny quirked a brow. "That's right up Dame's alley."

"You guys are so mean. She's a nice girl," Mom said.

"I don't have a problem with her," I defended. "She just...keeps to herself...She doesn't like me either, called me a whore once...in not so many words." I furrowed my brow, trying to remember.

"Whoa." That had Mom's attention. "Why would she do that?"

"I wouldn't join her virgin club, where they wear the rings and pray all the time." I bit my lip, since I'd called her a name first. "I was in like...the ninth grade? Even back then I knew I'd like sex. I mean, promising to stay a virgin until marriage? Be realistic."

Mom had her lips pursed as she thought about it.

"Hey!" Sonny shouted. "There's nothing wrong with being a virgin. You should have joined her club."

"Oh, yeah. I bet you love virgins," I giggled.

"That's enough," Mom said.

"I don't . . . sluts are more fun and virgins cling."

"The both of you are horrible." Mom looked back to Sonny. "Do you have to be _this_ disgusting _this_ early in the morning?" She grinned, and I hadn't seen her this happy in months.

"It's not without effort." He kissed her cheek.

"Besides...you want Maggie with Dame? She's seventeen, and he's twenty-four. I'm eighteen, and Joe's twenty-five . . . Hypocrites," I coughed into my fist.

"It's dif-fer-ent!" Sonny boomed down the hall. "_He'd_ hit it and run. _You_ were going to marry that fuck."

I turned to give my brother the finger, and smiled all the way into my bedroom. Dad was angry. But things would go back to normal. We'd all be a happy family again soon.

"Excuse me?" Damion was laying face down on my bed. "Your room is down the hall." I kicked his foot. He was fully dressed, his beautiful suit crumpled and wet-looking. It was destroyed. "Awww, I loved this suit," I said.

He groaned, and I got a nose-full of rotten liquor stank.

"P.U!" I waved my hand. "You stink, bro."

He rolled over, covering his face. "I'm in your room?"

"Yeah." I placed my purse on my desk. "How much did you drink last night?"

"A lot . . . too much." He covered his face with a pillow. "Oh my God!"

"What?" I asked.

"Oh. My. God!"

"What!?" I shouted.

He groaned, fisting my pillow and holding it tightly to his face, trying to suffocate himself.

"Stop that." I tried to pull it away and he let me.

"I wanna die…What did I do last night? Holy fuck." He held his head.

I chuckled. "Just take some Advil. You'll live." There was a gun in his waist. "Um…Dame?"

"Oh. My. God!"

I shook my head. "Why's that in my bed?" I pointed to it.

"What...? Oh…" He hid it with his shirt. "Shhh. Just—I don't know. You never saw that shit…Oh. My. God."

"Can you stop saying that?" It was annoying to say the least, and I'd seen guns before. Joe always carried one, so do Sonny and my Dad, and every other older male I've ever known. It wasn't shocking. I guess it's a guy thing, but I never expected Damion to walk around with one.

Then I became wary, watching him wince and groan into my bed. "What happened last night?"

"I'm going to hell."

"In a hand basket..." I laughed. "But, what'd you make out with Maggie or something?"

"That's her name," he spoke to himself. "No, not that . . . Oh my God."

"Spit it out," I giggled. "Do you like Maggie?"

"No," he rasped. "I mean, I don't know...Shhh, I'm trying to remember everything...fuck! I didn't skankify _your_ friend, okay? Relax."

"Dude, she's not _my_ friend...I think she's _Mom's_ friend-"

"FUCK!" He hit himself in the face. "I scared the fuck out of her last night, all because I only saw what I wanted to."

"Maggie?" I asked.

He didn't confirm or deny. "I said that out loud?"

It was my turn to say, "Oh my God."

He blew out a large breath, calming some, but his bouncing leg gave him away. Damion was nervous about something. "You were at AJ's, right?"

I sighed, sitting next to him and grabbing my stuffed bear. "Yeah . . . with Gio, not AJ." I poked his butt.

"Quit." He smacked my hand. "Never touch a dude's ass. And thanks for clarifying . . . it's all so incestuous. Who knows? You could have been with AJ. We're like back-country hicks who marry their cousins, only none of us are truly related . . . Oh. My. God. Oh—"

I hit his ass again. "Idiot. Of course, I was with Gio."

"I was kidding . . . _not really_. Did Dad and Sonny burst your bubble?"

"Pretty much," I said.

"That sucks."

I nodded. "But last night was magical." I missed Gio already. "We talked for hours, made love for hours—"

"Hours? Now, that's impressive." He grinned.

"We had breaks in between." I hit him with Mr. Fluffy-Fluff, my bear.

"So, when's the wedding?" he laughed. "Ow—" Damion winced, holding his head. "Christ . . . just leave me here. Go chill in my room."

"We didn't talk about a wedding, but . . . we talked about me going to Texas. Hopefully—I don't know. Maybe I can find a job and take night courses until I can go full-time next semester, if they even let me in."

"Sounds good . . . Dad already settled it with the university. You're still accepted—just gotta register, which you can do online—"

"What do you mean?" His words raised a red flag. "Why would Dad . . ." I slumped my shoulders. "Between last night and this morning . . . when would Dad have spoken to the university? How'd he know? Gio hasn't told anyone yet."

"Oh fuck...Forget I said anything—"

"No." I jumped from my bed. "Dad was counting on me not getting married, wasn't he? He had some plan or something?"

Damion groaned. "Shut up. You're fine. You and Gio are back on track . . . _You_ don't have problems. _I_ have problems. _I_ have issues . . . Oh. My. God." He pulled his hair.

I cringed in place, ready to throw a tantrum, I got so angry. "I can't believe—"

"Oh, Kylie, for fuck's sake—" Damion farted and then laughed. "Duuude . . ."

I kicked him right in his ass and stomped from my stinky bedroom.

Mom and Sonny were talking in the kitchen when I passed them to get to Dad's office. He was reading when I walked in, but he didn't look up at me, so I slammed his door to get his attention.

"Can I help you?" He still wouldn't look at me.

"I'm _here_." I placed my hands on my chest. "Look at me."

"Leave my office—"

"No!" I shouted.

"No?" Dad cocked a brow, folding his arms across his chest, and he finally looked at me.

I didn't expect that reaction, and my anger slightly ebbed and was replaced with sadness. "You had some plan . . . to make sure Joe and I didn't get married?" I asked.

He nodded. "And if that didn't work . . . " He banged his book down. It made me jump. "I would have taken . . . a more drastic measure." I didn't know what that meant. "You're eighteen!" he barked. "What the fuck do you know about being married or sex or men?" He shook his head. "You're a little girl—"

"I'm a woman!" I shrieked.

He nodded. "And _that's_ how you carry yourself?" He snorted, picking up his book.

I reached for it and took it away. "I'm not finished yet!" I was so angry, and most of all, heartbroken. My father doesn't know me, doesn't see me at all. "Carry myself? What do you mean . . .?" I spluttered as tears filled my eyes.

He stood from his chair and came around his desk to tower over me. I shrank back and was surprised when he handed me a tissue. "Your mother and I didn't raise some loose girl—"

"What?" I felt defeated and I hated him.

"I knew you and Peto would leave together." Dad sat back on his desk. "I didn't expect you guys to run to the first available bed."

"I'm not a loose girl," I whispered. "Joe was a mistake and—"

"I don't want to know anymore. Go wash your face." He looked to the floor. "I expect things from certain people, and I didn't expect that from you."

I sobbed quietly, but wouldn't leave. "Daddy, I—"

"Bella!" He called for my mother.

"No," I whimpered, reaching for him. He didn't pull away, and for that I was grateful. "You don't understand. We made love, Daddy . . . It was beautiful, and I don't regret that one bit. I love him, more than anything—"

"You were still engaged to Joe less than twelve hours ago, Kylie." He looked to me. "Who are you trying to fool here?"

"The past three months . . . they're a blur. I know I put you and Mom through a lot—"

"What's going on?" Mom poked her head in, and Sonny was behind her.

"I have work to do," Dad said.

I looked over at my mother and cried out, trying to form words, and needing her to help me.

She entered the room, closing Sonny out. "What's going on?" she asked again.

"I-I'm—" I swallowed, shaking my head. "I'm sorry—I just." My head whipped to my father, half-enraged but mostly sad. "I'm not—how can you say that? Call me that?"

"Leave it alone, Kylie. It's done. Just leave my office, please." He focused on the book in front of him.

"What's going on?" Mom rubbed my back.

"I have shit to do," Dad said. "Your daughter won't leave me to it."

"_Her_ daughter?" I whimpered. "I'm a whore, so now you can't acknowledge me? I'm not _your_ daughter anymore?" I hollered at the top of my lungs. "How, Daddy? Explain this to me. I've been with Joe and Gio—two people who I had committed relationships with—"

"Shhh." Mom placed a finger over my lips. "Don't say anything more. You don't owe him an explanation—"

"Like hell she doesn't!" Dad screamed. "If she's going to carry herself like some ho—"

"What?" Mom shouted, rounding on my father. "Did you call her that?" She kicked his chair, so he faced her. "Answer me!"

"I never called her that—"

"Bet you implied it." She nodded, but looked to me. "Did we ever tell you kids how we met?" Mom was smiling.

"Bella, don't be cute. She's not marrying Joe, she pulled some stunt, and it's over. Whatever. Can we move the fuck on?" he asked. "She'll go to Texas in the spring, and everything will be the way it should be."

"We met at Cousin Alice's house—" Mom turned to me. "I was so drunk . . . and your father was so hot—I hoped and internally begged," she smiled wide, "that he'd come home with me . . . Your disgusting uncle hit on me first, but your father gave me a ride home—"

"Enough," Dad said.

"What's so horrible about it, Edward?" Mom spoke with her hands. Then she turned back to me. "He took me home and screwed my brains out." She shrugged. "And I had only met him . . . a whopping hour earlier." She folded her arms on her chest. "Who's the ho?"

"Don't talk like that," Dad whispered. "You're not—"

"But _she_ is? _Our_ daughter is?" Mom jerked a thumb, and I couldn't believe it. She was putting my father in his place. I had never seen that done by anyone before. "Oh . . . I probably shouldn't tell her about how I got pregnant at sixteen. Or about Charles Swan and his nickname for me, huh?" She seethed in his face as tears began to stream down her cheeks.

"Mom . . ." I hated that she was so upset.

"Bella," Dad whispered, trying to grasp her hand. "Baby, stop—"

"Say it again . . . fucking _think _it again, and you'll have to sleep with one eye open. My daughter is none—you hear me? None of those things!" She got in his face.

He stared out the window.

"Can you give us a minute?" she asked me.

Shocked and with wide eyes, I nodded and stumbled out of the room. I couldn't imagine how much worse it could get—what they didn't want me to see.

"I knew they met at a party, but—" Sonny shook his head.

I just stared up to him, still crying my eyes out. "I'm not a loose girl."

Sonny pulled me into his arms. "I know you're not. Dad gets upset, he says some shit—he doesn't mean it."

I sniffled and nodded. "He does. Daddy hates me, and now I made him and Mom fight—"

Sonny chuckled. "They fight all the time—about some stupid shit, too. Don't worry about it."

I sighed, leaning away and wiping my eyes. "I did this . . . I just—Sonny, Gio leaving hurt so much, and Joe was there. I-I—It seems stupid now, and I don't know how I can go back to Gio so fast and leave Joe . . ." I took off my engagement ring. "I guess I never loved Joe…Can you give this to him?"

Sonny stopped my hand. "Keep it as a souvenir. That way, when you're about to make some stupid mistake, you can look at it and remember."

"What?"

He shook his head. "I'm sure he doesn't want it back, and I sure as fuck don't wanna see him."

"Be kind to him. This was my fault—"

"It wasn't." He pinched my cheek. "I know you're in this rush to grow up—'cause you're a woman and whatnot, but don't be. Go to Texas, party, get into trouble, but not too much." He waved a finger. "Don't think I won't go down there."

I giggled, feeling a little better.

"I'm sorry." He placed his hand on his chest. "I may have given Joe that push to propose."

"Push?" I asked.

He pursed his lips. "I thought—well, it doesn't matter what I thought. It's done and we should move on."

"I didn't have to say yes," I whispered. "You know, like Katie did. She didn't have to—"

"That's completely different."

"It's not." I held his hand. "You probably thought you did the right thing, and Katie's stupid if she thinks or thought Raul was a better man than you. She should have opened her mouth if she wanted you back. She didn't, and you were just trying to make her happy—by bowing out."

He shrugged, slightly shaking his head, and I waited for him to respond to my words. He never did. We stood in the hall as a silence loomed. "Promise you'll forgive Dad? He's stubborn and he gets angry, and he says shit he doesn't mean. He'll apologize, which is also monumentally hard for him." Sonny chuckled. "Hear the man out, though."

"I'm not mad at him." And I truly wasn't. For some reason, whatever anger I felt had disappeared, a feeling of sadness replacing it.

"He was wrong. He knows it and will admit it . . . Just give it time, okay?"

"Right." I rasped, clearing my throat. "I'm pissed at myself—the back and forth…? I hate that I was so mean to Mom when all she did was try to help me. Dad…well, he didn't do anything but support Mom. He never said I shouldn't marry Joe. He had more of a problem about Joe and me dating…When I came home, told them we were getting married, they didn't comment at first. Then Daddy congratulated Joe…I don't know. Maybe Mom hated the idea, but Dad seemed happy for us."

"They were afraid of losing you," he whispered. "They'd forbid you, and you'd run away—like you did. When you showed up with Joe that one night, I was just about to go look for you. Mom called me crying. Dad—he was already calling the troops."

I groaned. "I can't leave the house without them knowing where I am."

"You don't understand, and maybe it's because no one told you. It's dangerous out there. It's not my place to tell you anything, but bad things can happen to you if you're not protected. You understand? You could get kidnapped, murdered, raped—God forbid—because of something that has nothing to do with you. You could be used against us—any one of us. Why do you think you and Mom have drivers, protection? It's not about being overbearing. We're involved in something—it's _something_." He looked away from me. "It has nothing to do with them being controlling—so to speak."

I laughed. "Oh, come on."

He still wore a frown. "I'm not kidding, and I hope—pray to God you never have to see some shit . . . Hold on to your youth. I didn't have a choice—I had to grow up a lot earlier than any of my friends did. Dad did good—shielding you from so-fucking-much. Sometimes I resent it—wished he took the same care with me. But whatta ya gonna do?" He smiled. "Over time, we learn—we don't make the same mistakes we did before."

"All right…" I didn't know how to reply to that.

"I learned this a long time ago. They're not assholes or tyrants. They just want what's best for us—their children—and will go through hell or high water to help us, even if we don't agree at first. Cut them some slack and accept it. I'm going to be twenty-eight, and they're still in my business—they treat Dame and me like we're babies, too, mostly Dame..."

"But it's _my_ life—"

"That's right. It is." He nodded. "But it's hard to watch someone you love make mistakes—watch them be hurt. You were hurting something awful these past few months. You'd smile and light up around Joe…but you weren't happy. And instead of dealing with your heartache or shutting down like us regular people, you put your all into your engagement…I don't know your reasoning. I do know that _you_ used Joe—just like he used you—along with every excuse in the book to make your actions seem like the right ones. But you knew…"

"When I thought Gio cheated on me, I wanted to hurt him. Then after… I wanted to die—"

"Don't say that." He rushed out. "Don't you dare say some shit like that just because of some cat—Gio or not. Maybe Gio's your soul mate. Maybe you two will live happily ever after. Maybe youse'll date through college and then realize it's not working out. We grow up. We grow apart sometimes, too. I don't know, but remember… if it doesn't work out with Gio, then that just means youse weren't meant to be. If you love something, let it go. If it comes back…it's yours. You know? There's a million guys out there…but you don't need one to be happy. And us—Dad and me—hell, Mom and Dame, too. We'll never like any fucker who's trying to take you away from us. No one will ever be good enough. If you're happy, though, we'll respect your decision."

I just shrugged, trying to absorb his words. "Daddy probably hates Gio now."

"Dad loves Peto." He grinned. "Just give him some time. That's all. Fuck, Aro hates my ass sometimes, _just because_ I was with Katie for however long," he laughed. "But it's cool 'cause I respect it. I can understand where he's coming from. Deep down, Aro loves me, too. Blood relation or not, we _are_ a family. You know?"

I bit my lip, dancing from foot-to-foot. "It's because of the _other_ family—the thing? Can you tell me, um, how—"

"No," he said. "That's not important."

"It is. I have so many uncles . . . and none of them are related to us—"

He spoke over me. "Bottom line, you have to make yourself happy before you can make anyone else happy. Understand?"

"Being with Gio—" Just the thought made me smile. "It's right. We love each other. We've always loved each other."

"That's great." He nodded. "I'm happy for you both, but Gio's going back to school, while you'll be here until the spring. It'll be hell. Just try to focus on yourself during that time. Get your head right. Try to figure shit out for yourself, and don't be a bitch to Mom anymore. That shit—that's just unforgiveable."

"I apologized. I feel horrible—"

He put his hand up to stop me. "Try to learn from this, okay? We all make mistakes. We all do shit, and then during the light of day—when shit is clear—we realize our screw ups."

I blew out a breath. "Oh, yeah…Um," I remembered something, "what happen to Dame?"

He raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"He just—he's beating himself up over something. I've honestly never seen him like that before. It goes beyond a hangover."

Sonny waved a hand. "Don't worry about that lunatic. Whatever it is…he'll be fine. We all had a little too much to drink last night. That's all I know."

"Yeah," I said. "Thanks for…you know, being nice to me."

"That's what big brothers do." He hugged me again. "I know how Dad feels, I mean…" He kissed my hair. "I used to change your diapers." He chuckled, backing away.

I scoffed at nothing and slapped his bicep. "You're so gross."

"It's true. You're our baby, and it's hard—being a man, knowing the thought process of other males. We're pigs, and like I said, no fucker will ever be good enough."

I rolled my eyes. "Not every man—"

"Yes, _every_ man." He nodded. "Sometimes, I wish you were a lesbian, but bitches be crazy too."

I grimaced because he ruined it. He sounded smart, giving me all that great advice. "Um—"

"Human beings are fucked up in general. Keep that shit in mind." He waved a finger. "I beat Joe's ass last night—"

"What?" I was surprised. "Why?"

"For screwing around with Carli…that shit happened _before_ you took off with Peto, and that shit don't fly. I told Carli to stay away from him—sent her a text last night, and she told me to go fuck myself," he laughed. "Bitches _are_ crazy."

I had nothing to say to that. "I need a shower."

"I need sleep." His eyes widened. "Mom invited people over for dinner."

"Who's coming?" We started to walk down the hall and stopped at the door to Sonny's childhood bedroom.

He started to undress, kicking off his shoes. "Um, Uncle Carlisle and Alex. I think Eddie's coming to stay with us because they're going on vacation. I don't know." He tossed his shirt into the hamper. "Before we scooped you up, we had breakfast with Aro, and Dad was running his mouth..."

I frowned. "We're watching the twins, too?" Every time they're here, they go through my things, and they're too freaking loud. I used to do the same things to Sonny and Damion, though—hanging out, lingering near their rooms, and trying to be cool by association before they'd kick me out.

"Fuck no. Dad would go out of his mind." He chuckled. "Oh, Amelia is coming through, too."

"Who?" I asked.

He paused, tongue-in-cheek. "Dad's buddy, Luke? He has a daughter—"

I nodded. "I met him and Elena last night."

"Amelia isn't Elena's daughter. Their kids are younger than you. This chick is from a previous relationship or something. I don't know. She's twenty or twenty-one, and I think . . . I'm pretty sure they're trying to hook her up with Dame."

I furrowed my brow. "You don't think Dame and Julie will get back together?"

He shrugged. "I hope not. I can't stand her."

"And then Maggie?"

"I think that was a one-time thing, and I highly doubt it got physical."

"Me too," I giggled.

"Dame was fucked-up. I'll be surprised if he remembers...He spoke more last night than he has in the last six months combined, weird shit, but hilarious. Last time he got crazy drunk, he blacked out, woke up on the lawn when Mom wanted to run the sprinklers," he laughed. "That crazy fucker." He stopped talking.

"Tell me," I urged.

"We'd gone somewhere, but then there was a misunderstanding...Dame got arrested," he whispered. "Meanwhile, they only held him for twenty minutes at best...Then, when he was released, he was still drunk, but wanted to celebrate. He drank for like two days straight, and then I just dropped him off in front of the house. Guess he never made it in."

"Wow." I wondered how much alcohol that would take, probably bottles or something. "Does he always drink like that?"

"That control freak?" He snorted. "No, Kylie. Every once in a while, people need to drown their sorrows. He gets drunk like once a year, and Julie did break up with him yesterday."

"Right," I whispered.

"Dame hooking up with Amelia would be beneficial." He crossed his fingers and showed them to me. "Let's hope for the best."

"Beneficial?"

He plopped onto his bed, sighing. "I've been told to keep my hands off unless _I_ plan to put a ring on it, you know?"

"What does that mean?"

Sonny waved a hand. "Sometimes it's easy to forget you're my baby sister. Pay me no attention."

"Okay." I shook my head.

"Close my door."

I did as he said and left his doorway.

Since Damion was still in my room, I grabbed a pair of pajamas and went to take a bath. I stared blankly at the tiles while the water ran. My mind was empty. I couldn't think about any more, and I needed to relax.

I wanted Gio.

The hot water soothed my over-sexed muscles as I eased myself down.

I smiled then—because it was the good kind of pain.

With the water off, I was able to hear the lock on the door being jimmied. Mom came in with a butter knife to sit on the toilet.

"You okay?" I whispered.

She blew out a breath. "Me? I'm fine . . ." She sat back.

"Cool." I blew some bubbles away from my face as I remembered some of the things she said in Dad's office. "You didn't have Sonny at sixteen." My voice was barely above a whisper.

"No, I didn't have _any_ baby at sixteen." She looked to me. "I had a miscarriage, which was for the best, actually."

I nodded, knowing about Charles Swan, Uncle Emmett's dad who had raised her. "What did Charles call you?"

"A whore every chance he got . . . for getting pregnant at sixteen, but it was really because of what Grandma did . . . having an affair and having me." Her eyes looked glazed over as she pointed to herself. I knew Uncle Emmett and Mom didn't have the same dad, but I didn't learn about the affair my grandmother had until a couple of years ago.

"So . . . I come from a long line of sluts?"

She beamed at me. "Thank God, you have my sense of humor."

"Thanks for defending me."

"I'll defend you until the day I die . . . I told you, I just need to know where to stand to be behind you." She placed my dirty clothes in the hamper. "I know being a teen wasn't easy—" She frowned.

I felt horrible so quickly again. "Mom, I was spoiled. You and Dad gave me anything I wanted—you guys still do."

"But . . . you didn't get to spread your wings like you brothers did."

I grinned. "That's why Texas is perfect, and I've never even been there."

She blanched at my words.

"We won't live there forever." I shot up. "I mean—"

"No . . . Regardless of what goes on between you and Peto, you have your own life to live." She had glassy eyes. "I'll miss you like crazy. But we'll visit, too." She reached to hold my hand. "I want better for you. That's what my problem was. I love my life—have loved every second I've spent with your father. Having you and your brothers, being blessed, but I always wanted more for you, _all of you_. There's a whole world out there—" She stopped when Damion opened the door.

"Sorry." He backed away with his hand down his pants.

"There's six bathrooms in this house," Mom said under her breath.

"And no one ever knocks," I grumbled, glad he could only see my head.

"Anyway," she sighed, "we had some great times, and some horrible and confusing and scary times too." She sucked in a breath. "I didn't want that for you. With Joe . . . you might have gotten all of that and more."

I nodded.

"I know you're a woman." She kneeled to the ground to get closer. "But you were about to be faced with a reality that . . ." Mom just stopped talking.

"A reality that…?" I urged her to go on.

"Well, you're not now. We'll take things day-by-day." She nodded, patting my forearm. "And Daddy, he knows . . . he knows better, but he's the one who can't face reality. I can't make more excuses for him. He just—he still sees you as this little thing running around stealing cookies and cursing up a storm," she laughed, making her fingers run around on my arm. "He's blind, but don't believe for one second that he doesn't know how wonderful, how beautiful, and how grown you are."

"You think?" I swallowed thickly.

"I know . . . He loves you so much, and he just can't imagine his baby girl doing what you told him you did." She shook her head. "I can't believe you told him that."

"I can't believe you yelled at him like that."

"Like what?" She put on an innocent face.

I giggled. "I had so much fun last night, and I just wanted Daddy to know that it wasn't just sex. Gio and I are in love—we love each other," I sighed. "I really did have an amazing time last night."

She raised a brow. "I bet you did, wild woman."

I covered my huge, cheesy smile.

"Let me see it." She pulled my hand away. "I haven't seen that in a long time."

I nodded, not able to contain my happiness.

"Do me a favor?" she asked.

I meant what I said earlier; I knew I put my parents through a lot over the last few months. "Anything," I promised.

"Listen to Mom next time?"

"I'll do my best," I said.

"Thank you." She bent low to kiss my hair.

"I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. You just—you didn't want me marrying Joe, and instead of…facing you about it, I wanted to avoid you. But like other things I did—other stupid things—hurting you just hurt me more."

Mom nodded. "I thought you hated me. I tried to figure out what I'd done wrong—"

"You didn't do anything," I whispered. "I was wrong. And I could never hate you." I started crying again. "I can't pick an emotion and stick with it." I pointed to my face.

Mom smiled. "It's okay. Just feel however you feel and know that you can always talk to me, even if I don't agree with you. We have to keep talking." She grabbed my hand.

"Is Daddy still mad?" I asked.

"He realized he made a mistake. He's apologetic…I want you to talk to him. After your bath, go to him."

My stomach tied in knots. "I—he's never been angry with me before."

Mom grinned. "You always had him wrapped around your finger. But you have to talk this out—see this through. You can't forget what _he_ said, and you can't _not_ talk to him. You two will never move forward…and trust me, your father can hold a grudge for a while."

"Are you guys okay? I'm sorry you fought."

She laughed. "We're fine, and you guys will be too. No worries."

"Okay."

Mom left while I continued to soak in the tub and steel my nerves. I want my father to see me as an adult—a woman, a sexual being—but it's weird, not only for him. I'm not Daddy's little girl anymore.

I felt uncomfortable and unsure of myself. I didn't know how I should act, or what I should say, but I was going to find out.

**Edward POV coming up next!**

**Thank you for reading!**

**Please leave me your thoughts.**


	8. Edward

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**Please excuse the fact that this is a slow-start. I have different reasoning now. Bwahahaha. I aim to introduce these characters to you. Although they're the same, they're older and totally different. (shrug) I'd also like to showcase their family dynamic a bit. As we get going, you'll see that all of their lives are very vast, except for Edward/Sonny who share the same occupation . . . even though they ARE ALL involved in "the thing" in one way or another. **

**ALSO, throughout the ENTIRE story, there will be varying POVs for each chapter. If we dive into a Damion arc, there will be a few chaps solely dedicated to him, and so on - the rest of the characters will be involved, though, and we'll ALWAYS come back to E/B POVs. **

**I say this because I know down the line some of you will complain: "I miss Edward." or "I miss Bella". Rest assured that THIS IS STILL AN E/B STORY and they are the MAJOR characters. We'll hear plenty from them, but to get in-depth, to see all sides . . . I'll have to change it up a bit. If it's not your cup of tea, I get it. But please give it a shot. **

**Still with me?**

**Please enjoy! I'm having a lot of fun writing this. **

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Eight: Edward**

**S**eething at the window, I couldn't believe my plans backfired on me like that.

I meant what I said to Kylie. I didn't think they'd run to the nearest bed.

Kylie is innocent and immature for her age. She doesn't know how the real world works. I hoped she'd gain some knowledge when she went to college, but she didn't go. She's still here, under my wing, and I was going to do my best to shield her from some things—the loose women, the strippers, and all the unsavory people.

My daughter's an angel.

And Aro says _I_ need a reality check.

When Aro caught Sonny and Katie the first time—the actual first time, not when he walked in on them at Eclipse—he beat the fuck out of my son, and that didn't sound like a bad idea . . . teach Peto a lesson. We had beef after that altercation, but I understood it, and Sonny swung back and was also in his twenties. He got Aro good a few times.

I was so proud of him.

Regardless of who Aro was or wasn't, Sonny stood up for himself.

And Kylie is weak for Peto. He probably didn't have to try too hard to get between her legs.

_Oh God._

I groaned and buried my face in my hands.

It's not fair.

Deep down, I knew this wedding was never going to happen. I essentially had nothing to worry about. And I always thought she'd . . . I don't know. Get married or be in a committed—_committed_—relationship when she was like twenty-five or so, or older. What the fuck did she need a man for? I'm here. Daddy's here, Sonny's here, and Damion's here, too. We're all here to protect her.

I mean, men are garbage who only want one thing. Doesn't Kylie realize that? Peto is young, but he's like Damion—in that he hasn't lived or done anything of substance besides go to school. Sooner or later, he'll feel the need to spread his wings, and where will that leave my daughter? There's nothing wrong with branching out and living as it's a right of passage . . .

And it's not anything against him—_okay, I dislike him on principle alone_—but what the fuck do these kids know about love?

Kylie said they "made love".

She was practically fucking naked when I walked in, which was something I never wanted to see, so I know something was going on.

_Making love . . ._

Is it still the same thing? Or have things changed? Like, was it this very meaningful fuck session? Or does making love mean something else to these kids?

I cringed and gritted my teeth.

When Bella knocked and then let herself in, I actually breathed a sigh of relief. I hoped her presence would ease these jumbled thoughts I have.

"She's almost done with her bath."

I didn't say anything to my wife. I thought by some stroke of luck she'd talk about something else.

"Look at me—" She hit me.

"What?" I asked. "Can't I read my book?"

She looked at it. "You've been on page twenty for the past hour."

I put it down. "What now?"

"I see those wheels spinning . . . You're not going to touch that boy."

I grinned, because fucking Aro should get some hell too. Bella never knew Aro had knocked Sonny around years back. "Remember that time Sonny was jumped by those kids—when he was leaving the subway?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"Just forget it," I sighed, leaning back. "I'm sorry, okay. Can we move on?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "From your medieval way of thinking . . . I hope so."

I groaned—a loud one. "She's my daughter. Why do you think I always tried to keep her away from those pigs?"

"Pigs?"

"Hanna and Carli—they were bad influences."

"I cannot believe you just said that about your nieces." She shook her head.

"Carlisle always turning a blind eye," I groaned even louder. "I don't want to fight with you," I said.

"Good . . . Kylie's going to come in, and you're going to apologize, wish her the best on her endeavors—"

"Since when is fucking Peto an endeavor?" I asked, as she continued to push my buttons.

She was laughing so hard she held her stomach. "I didn't mean that, but he's built very—"

"Watch it!"

She put her hands up. "All three of them are here . . . you got what you—I mean, _we_ got what _we_ wanted. Kylie's not getting married. I want a nice, quiet afternoon, followed by a nice dinner. No animosity, and I'm inviting Peto over—"

"Bella!"

"He'll be here by three, along with everyone else. We're having baked ziti, and then chicken cutlets, salad, and . . . I'm thinking _au gratin_ potatoes, your favorite." She smiled, sitting on my lap. "And I want you to be nice to Peto—"

I whined in my chair. "I don't want to see him."

"Edward." She had a tone.

"My foot might go up his ass."

"And he'll take that risk, because he loves our daughter. After this morning . . . stepping foot in this house is commendable," she said. "Think about it…there are no secrets in this family, and he'll be at a table—sitting next to you, Carlisle, Sonny, and Damion. Aro's not coming. He and Lisa are going to see Derek or something. He's not liking that home they put him in. Regardless—whatever—just be nice and tell Sonny the same."

I shrugged, but then shook my head. "He was practically our fourth child growing up."

"That's right. You love him, too—"

I sucked my teeth.

"You do! So, you'll try. You were willing to make it work with Joe—"

"No, I wasn't," I laughed. "Maybe you misunderstood me. Even if Peto never showed up, Kylie wasn't marrying Joe . . . even if I had to . . . minutes before the ceremony—"

"Edward?"

"What?" Her cleavage was in my face now.

"I would have helped you bury the body."

I leaned my forehead to hers and squeezed her tight. "These kids don't know what love is."

"Neither did we, at first."

I sighed, letting the weight of her words squash me. "Right, but we were older—more mature."

"Not by much. We'd lived more, if that makes sense. Neither one of us had an easy childhood, and these kids had everything handed to them. We were…we were emotionally stunted. Whereas we showered our kids with love, and they've had us as examples. When they find love, they'll know what it is. There's a difference. When you have to struggle and fight—"

"Dad?" Kylie knocked.

"Apologize," Bella whispered. "Be nice and sweet . . . I swear to God, Edward." She waved her fist at me, and I had no idea what the fuck she was swearing to God for.

I rolled my eyes. Maybe I was pissed—shocked before, but by now I was just sad, and a little angry at myself.

Bella did that.

As soon as she pinpointed what I did . . .

I knew how horrible my wife felt after Charlie would say those things, how long it took her to get over it—_if she ever did_—and the damage it did to her spirit.

And I was acting just like Charlie had back in the day.

Yes, I hate myself.

Kylie came into the room with a clean face and her hair wet. She wore Care Bear pajamas and looked adorable.

"Um . . . I just—I wanted to say—" She looked to the ceiling. "I'm hurt by what you said. I know I put you and Mom through a lot, and I should have called. But I'm not a baby anymore."

Little did she know, in my eyes, she was still under three feet tall with curly, messy hair, uneven teeth, chubby thighs, and the cutest dimples. Then I shook my head, and I saw—a woman—my eighteen-year-old daughter standing in my office.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I shouldn't have—I was wrong," I admitted, feeling about an inch tall. "I love you, and I only want to see you happy and safe. And I'll never apologize for worrying or trying to make sure you're safe. It's just the way things are, so get used to them." Bella squeezed my thigh, and I could feel that she was smiling.

Kylie grinned. "I can live with that," she whispered.

"Uh, what you and Peto do in a bed is none of my business. I don't want to see it. I don't want to hear about it. I don't want you two fooling around in this house—" Bella pinched me and I stopped. "It's your business." I knew I'd make it my business to make sure they weren't around any beds—or ever alone for too long.

Not around here, anyway. Aro had it right last night. What they do at college, they do at college, dozens of states away.

And if she's pregnant before she graduates, he's paying for the wedding.

"I would never—not here." She spluttered.

"Okay." I didn't have anything else to say. "Oh, and I love you . . . and Joe and your brother came to blows last night. He did a very bad thing—"

"Carli?" She made a face.

"You know about that?" I asked, feeling heartbroken for her. I knew that was going on before she stepped out on Joe. "Are you okay? I didn't—"

"Daddy, I'm fine . . . that's what I've been trying to say." She came closer to me. "I'm happy. Joe can do what he wants."

I opened my arm, and Bella scooted to my other thigh, so Kylie could sit. "My two girls."

"Women," Kylie corrected.

I snorted. "Right." I hugged them both. "What else is on the agenda for today?"

"Well," Bella started, "You know I invited Amelia to dinner." She spoke of Luke's daughter. "I'm thinking maybe Damion . . ."

Kylie scoffed, leaving the embrace. "Yeah, thank God Gio's coming . . . or else I'd have to watch those two drool over someone. They're gross—"

"And boys like that are my point, baby girl!" I got excited, hoping she was going to see my side. "Your brothers, me, and your uncle—no good."

"Edward!" Bella slapped my bicep.

"What?" I shouted.

"Nothing." My wife shook her head at me, her tits still in my face. They distracted me. "What am I going to do with you?"

I grinned, leaning in and palming her ass. "You can love on this old pervert—"

"Dad!"

I laughed, having forgotten that my daughter was still in the office.

"And you're not that old," Kylie said. "You still look young, like Sonny could be your brother." My daughter is good.

I winked at her and dug into my pocket for some cash. "Thanks, baby girl."

She smiled, taking the fifty from my hand. "But stop talking about you being old. It scares me." And she looked like she was about to start crying again. Every woman in my life can turn the tears on and off, like flipping a switch.

"Okay," I agreed, "but I'm not going anywhere . . . promise."

Bella kissed my cheek. "Thank you for coming around."

I nodded as Kylie let herself out. "Peto's not allowed in her bedroom."

It was my wife's turn to scoff and leave the embrace.

"Whatever." I wasn't apologetic. "That's the way it is."

Bella sighed, smiling and staring at me. "I hope Damion and Amelia hit it off." She took a seat across from me. "She saw his picture and then blushed . . . She knows it's a setup, but I don't think . . . I think Damion's still out of it from last night. He doesn't even know she's coming to dinner."

I truly had no comment, except, "Why hook him up at all?"

"Because he's shy—"

I laughed at her. "He's really not. Our son's a pathological liar who likes to fuck with people—I have no idea who the fuck that kid is nowadays." My lips drew a tight line because I knew exactly who he was. He's me—who I was—thirty years ago, only my son isn't a dog, as far as I know. Damion doesn't have the power or the money, status, I had back then. He walks around like some geeky fucker, always has his nose in a book, but his mind . . . Just by looking at him, I know his mind is always whirring. Okay, so maybe he is shy.

"He is not." She shook her head. "He's a good person. Last night, seeing him in the yard with Maggie . . . I couldn't believe it. He never disrespected this house growing up—not that he did last night. I'm just saying. Just like you expected Kylie to be a certain way, I know my Dame." She held her heart. "I just…I guess I just wish I knew what to tell Amelia. Like, how she can get Dame to open up?"

Again, I didn't have a comment.

"What can I tell her?"

"I don't know," I said. "What I do know…if she's on the quiet side, he'll feel compelled to fill the silence. Damion can read people—he's good at reading people judging by the things they say. If she doesn't say much," I laughed, "he'll feel intrigued, so to speak, to feel her out. If he's not attracted to her…" I trailed off. "I don't know."

"Have you seen Amelia?" Bella raised a brow. "I'm surprised Sonny isn't interested—"

"That's Luke's daughter. For Sonny, it's a conflict of interest. He can't hit it and run."

"That's the second time I've heard that phrase today."

"Carlisle's coming over. You might hear it again." I rubbed my face, tired as all hell from last night. "Why no interest in Sonny's love life? He's at that prime marrying age . . . Dame's not even twenty-five yet."

"Because I know what my babies need—"

"Oh, Bella…" Now I was ashamed that I wanted my wife to leave. I didn't want to sit through this shtick.

"Damion's wanted to get married for the longest time—find his special someone? He stayed with Julie out of habit, hoping they'd settle. He needs one fine piece of ass to knock him off his feet."

Surprised, I grinned at my wife. "A fine piece of ass?"

"Someone who's not afraid to make the first move." She stood up, coming back over to me, and I welcomed her on my lap. "Someone who will tread water." She kissed my nose. "Someone understanding…Amelia knows…Damion may not be a wise guy, but she knows—from her upbringing—not to ask unwarranted questions. I think they'll get along well. Plus, if Amelia and Dame hit it off . . . New York and New Jersey . . . You'd be even more powerful, you'd run more shit. You'd be bigger than Chicago and Boston combined . . . You already have Cali in your pocket."

"It's not about—"

"You've had an alliance for years. Their union would just make it that much stronger. I'm not…I'm not pushing, but think of all the benefits if they hit it off?"

I nodded because she was right. "But don't push…Luke has a lot to gain, so I'm sure he's pushing his daughter enough. And I better tell Dame to be careful," I laughed. "They hook up, and then she gets knocked up . . . Maybe my son is smart enough for medical school, but pussy clouds his judgment. His head is nowhere near the baby track."

Bella shuddered. "The thought of Dame with a kid," she giggled. "But I can't wait until we have grandbabies."

I sighed. "Sadly, I bet Kylie gives us one before the other two."

"Oh, did you ever talk to Carlisle about Anthony?" she asked.

"Yup . . . he knows, and he doesn't care. I told you and Lex he wouldn't." I kissed her temple. "He's worried for him, but not upset with him."

"Really?" She scrunched her nose. "With how macho Carlisle is . . ."

I shrugged. "Ant's the butchest gay I've ever seen. He's just as macho as any of us. Ant's a good lookin' kid, bet he's a ho, too." I cackled. "It runs in the family."

She sucked her teeth. "What gay people do you know? The only gay people you see are on TV."

"Still." I was _still_ tired, mildly aggravated, and needed to end the conversation. "We should take a nap."

"Nah." She stood up. "I slept. You go ahead."

I pursed my lips and pulled a joint out of my desk. "Wanna smoke?"

That stopped my pothead wife in her tracks. "Okay. I just have to make a phone call. I'll meet you in the garage."

"Bet." I stuffed the joint and a lighter in my pocket as Bella went on her way.

I did, too, leaving the sanctuary of my office. Like I've said before, Bella enjoys it when all the kids are home. I find myself covering my tracks, making sure no one is eavesdropping, and trying to get a feel of who is where. When they're in my house, I like to know where they are. It's not to bust balls; it's for my personal peace of mind. I don't bother them, but since last night I can't get Damion out of my head—wanting to know what was up with him.

I knocked on Damion's door.

"Yeah?" It was Kylie.

I let myself in. "Where's your brother?" She was under his covers watching television, and it was really dark. Our middle child has a thing for black curtains.

"In my room," she said, and she sounded tired.

"You're okay?" I asked, my stomach tying in knots again. "Does Mom need to take you to a doctor…? I mean, are you okay physically?" I winced and wanted to hit myself.

Kylie giggled. "I'm _more_ than okay."

I shook my head and closed the door behind myself.

I know I asked . . . but I didn't know if Bella ever took her to those woman docs or had a talk with her.

Again, I asked for my own peace of mind.

When I approached Kylie's door, I just let myself in. Dame was lying on his stomach with pillows over his head. The room was bright as Kylie has these sheer curtains, which don't block the sun—where one is light, the other is dark.

And Sonny still has those blue and beige plaid shits from when he was a teen. It's odd, how someone's choice of window shade can define them. But it's not about decoration. It's about what each color for each of my children represent.

"I'm up." He groaned.

"Good," I said.

He jumped up, and I guessed he thought Kylie entered, not me. "I gotta headache . . . and I'm no mood."

"Word?" I grabbed his leg just to fuck with him.

"Just tell me what you want." He rolled over, his nine falling from his waist.

I smiled, taking a seat by his feet. "Get up."

"Just let me sleep it off . . . don't give me shit. I was always the good kid, and now I'm an adult . . . I can do what I want." He grumbled, adding "oh my God" to his sentence.

I rolled my eyes and dug out the joint. "You wanna smoke? It'll help your hangover."

He paused, contemplative. "Okay."

"Come on. We'll smoke in the garage." I left the bedroom, knowing he was following. We passed Bella on our way, but she was none-the-wiser.

"Good, you're up." She fussed over him. "We need to get you water and some Advil—"

"I'm fine." He left, going down the stairs.

Bella stood there kind of stunned.

"He's a man." I kissed her head. "You can't smother him."

She made a face. "I just want him to look nice and put together for when Amelia gets here. He needs to shower, not lie around all day looking like …that." She waved a hand.

"Stop worrying about bullshit. You'll drive yourself crazy. Let's go smoke."

"Lemme just turn down the stove."

I left her to it and followed after Dame. Bella's car occupied one side of the garage, while I grabbed a crate to sit near the washing machine. "Open that window," I told Dame.

He did as I said, and then hopped onto the dryer. "Mom's got clothes hanging." He pointed to the laundry.

I didn't give a fuck and lit the joint, taking a few fast pulls before handing it off. "Be easy. This ain't the reg shit you get from the corner." I blew the smoke out, trying not to cough.

He didn't reply, content to stare out the window, smoking slowly. "We can smoke weed, but Mom makes me go outside to smoke cigarettes."

"Cigarette smoke destroys the walls, makes it stink. It's nothing personal." I took it back, wondering how much longer Bella would be. "So…how was your night?" I decided to tread lightly.

He nodded, keeping his gaze low. "It was—it was something. It didn't turn out the way I thought it would."

"When does it ever?" I sighed. "You know . . . you can talk to me."

"I'm fine."

"No, just…like we can chill. We can talk about whatever you want, as long as you speak to me." I felt a little…raw? Exposed in some way, as I was going out on a limb with him, my son.

"I go to school . . . there's not much more to my daily life. Broads and bullshit are trivial, and . . . I'm boring—"

"That's not what I'm saying. There are loads of things we could talk about." I was hoping he'd elaborate, tell me a little more about the shit he'd been doing with his brother. "After dinner, you _have to_ speak to me. We're sitting down and getting to the bottom of some shit. But right now, you have my ear."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Take it however…you know of the family business, you're rubbing up against it. You know who I am, and I know you're private…but when you combine the two, there are no secrets to be kept from me."

He nodded, still refusing to keep my gaze.

"Look at me." He raised his head. "I don't know what's going on with you. You were always such a happy and giddy kid, and then you changed…Before yesterday, I'd never imagined you'd do the things you've done. I don't know you anymore, which means I can't trust you until I do. Understand?"

"I'm still . . . I want to say I'm the same as I was, but Dad . . . I don't know me anymore." He snorted, ruffling his hair. "That's some good shit." He passed it back.

I clipped it in the ashtray to leave some for Bella.

"I don't know what I want, except for school. That keeps my head balanced and busy, and everything else . . . I tend to make up as I go along. I didn't know I could do what I did…until I did."

I nodded, respecting that. "How?" I asked.

He swallowed. "That I can't tell you—I can't tell you how it all started. I'm sorry, and it's nothing against you, but I can't."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Dame locked eyes with me, and he looked as though his words were on the tip of his tongue.

"You feel in control?" I asked. "Like you could do anything? Like you have this power, holding someone's life in your hands?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I'm not crazy…I'd never, you know, someone innocent, who's never done anything. For the most part, I just do whoever Sonny tells me, like any other shmuck on his crew."

"And you like that? Being on a crew? A knock around guy?"

"I'm not one of Sonny's guys," he laughed. "I'm too busy to be."

"But you like taking orders? Doing shit because others tell you?" I asked.

"I don't think anyone likes that, but I know I have to get used to it. With school and then residency . . . it's all about taking orders from senior residents, attendings, and I won't be able to complain. When it comes to that other shit, I just do what I do, when I'm told who to do it to. Sonny doesn't have to give me jobs—"

"Lemme stop you right there. Your mother and I told you from the get-go. You go to school, maintain your grades, and we'd pay. I still put money on your student account every month, but you don't touch it. You don't need to work. We pay your tuition, and we never asked you to get a job, only focus on your studies."

"It's not about the money, which is just a perk. I don't have a problem doing hits. It doesn't bother me, and I have no problem with carrying shit out. I'm good and fast, and I'm invisible. I blend in, get the job done, and I get the fuck out of there. And you can trust me. This is just something I'm good at, and I hope it doesn't change the way you see me." That whole rant was the most I've heard him say in a dog's age.

"Okay." I pursed my lips. "But if I said you couldn't do it anymore, how would that affect you?" I asked, watching his demeanor go from casual to tense.

"It was a lot more fun when no one knew about it," he laughed. "So, no…I wouldn't give a fuck. I'd respect your decision."

"Fun?" I inquired, just as Bella let herself in. She sniffed the air, and then looked between Dame and me.

"Are you guys smoking pot?" She acted as though she was upset.

I handed her the clip and took out my lighter. "Yeah, we smoked."

Bella gnashed her teeth together before she stomped out of the garage. I think she only did that for Dame's benefit.

"Shit…she gonna get on my ass now?"

I chuckled. "No. Just let it go." He didn't see or catch that Bella left with the joint and the lighter. I bet our bathroom stinks when I get up there. I wished she'd not only talk and get to know our adult sons, but chill with them. Sonny's mad cool to be around, but, sadly, I can't say the same for Dame yet. And Bella's a fucking blast. She can drink and do whatever with the best of them. Not much has changed. She enjoys partying, just like I do, now that our children aren't…children anymore.

"Um," Dame started, "can I ask you a question about the thing, with no evasiveness or changing the subject? I'd just like an answer."

"You realize that I'm really not supposed to discuss any of this shit with you, right? You don't have a button. I've never seen you do shit, but go ahead. You get one question . . . This is_ me_ trusting _you_ - trusting that you'd never open your mouth."

"I would never." He placed his hand on his chest.

"Never say never . . ."

"That's _you_ trusting me?" he laughed.

"Just get on with it." I snapped, gesturing for him to continue.

He licked his dry lips. "God forbid something ever happened to you, who would—"

"Ahhh." I nodded. "The million dollar question." Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned back to gaze at him. "Are you hoping to be in the running, or…?"

Sonny was the first person to come to my mind, while my stomach also rolled with a realization. My eldest would never go so far as to take, or steal from me—kill me for my spot. He's content where he is, doing what he's doing and getting paid. Damion, however, wouldn't give a fuck about what stood in his way if he wanted something.

That's how much I knew about him.

Because that's how much I knew about myself.

Marcus was more of a father to me than my own back then, and I didn't bat an eyelash. True, I considered it because of Carlisle and then eventually agreed because of the threat to Bella and myself. The end result was the one I'd been yearning for—to be the boss. I sure as fuck earned it, even if I was crazy young when I acquired that title.

I've been lucky so far. I keep everyone happy, ensuring no one stages a coup. I make sure all my ducks are in a row, so the Feds can't crack down. Overall, I'm careful now, and I have more money, more power, more people at my disposal than ever before.

But historically?

How was my life going to end?

Realistically, I'll either die in the joint or by a bullet.

And I hardly trust anyone anymore. The only people who'd be capable of taking me out are those closest to me—those I trust, or love.

It's a crazy thing to accept and believe, but—in my eyes—getting clipped is better than rotting in prison, or dying on my back in some hospital bed, riddled with cancer or some shit.

However way I go, I'll be on my feet—fighting for my life.

"No," he said. "Call me morbidly curious."

I wasn't ready to answer that question, or maybe I should—to get the idea out of his head. It won't be him, that's for damn sure. Besides icing somebody, I have no idea what Damion is into, how he'd fare being on a crew, or running one.

He has a lot of Bella in him, too, which contributes to him being so compliant all the time . . . and a practical jokester, a ball-buster, and an overall pain in the ass. He also lies about the dumbest shit ever just to get people to react—do things, get them to do what he wants them to. He changes his demeanor to appeal to just about everyone, become their friend, get what he wants. The latter isn't like Bella at all—he gets that from me—but I never fucked with people as much as he does.

I know when he's lying—his eyebrow slightly twitches and rises—but most don't know that, not even Sonny and Bella.

These days, it's only fear that keeps Sonny doing what he's told. Otherwise, he knows what's best and carries on, does what he wants, no matter what anyone says—except me. He gets his orders straight from me or Aro. No one else, none of the old-timers can bend Sonny to their will. It's his way or the highway.

Give Damion a dollar amount, and he'll do just about anything. It's not about being stupid or a pushover, or a whore—to do things solely for a buck. It's because, on a certain level, Damion is very subordinate. He has to be in control, but he doesn't like the responsibility.

That's where Damion's like Bella, too.

Power in itself is powerful—a driving force.

If I told Damion that his brother was my successor, Sonny might start aching for it, dreaming of it.

And to want something like that . . . Let's be real. He's basically wishing for my death or incarceration.

And if I was Damion . . .

I'd conspire and fill my brother's head with garbage to get him to consider taking out the boss—to fill his shoes—so I could be along for the ride.

I can't condemn either one for the possibilities or the choices they might make.

I can relate—I can also see every pro and con there'd be.

"We'll talk more about the little clusterfuck you got yourself into later—"

There was no point in speaking of his involvement while the others weren't here. We'd just have to repeat ourselves later on. Plus, Sonny played a huge role in this. It's actually his ass that's on the line, not so much Dame's. If it were anyone else—an outsider who Sonny paid to carry out those hits, someone I did not know—they'd be dead already to squash any unwarranted drama. My being nice about it at the rehearsal dinner was a ruse, setting up a sit-down. That person would have been iced the minute I heard about it.

Damion took out a made guy from another family.

And if anyone found out, Boston would have the right to take his life.

He shook his head. "I just wanted to know—"

"I'm not dead yet." I smiled. "I'm nowhere near ready to retire and hand the reins over. Get that out your head. You don't worry about me and what I do. You need to focus on yourself. We'll talk later, and you better be straight with me. I find out you're lying or keeping shit from me…" I stopped talking, locking eyes with him.

"Is Sonny good at what he does?" He kept his tone low.

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief, or maybe it was the weed. "We'll never get anywhere—you and me—while we talk if we keep evading each other's questions."

"I just wanna know if it was worth it…"

I was confused, and I knew he was telling the truth. It may have come out mumbled, but he never broke his stare. "If _what_ was worth it?"

He ran his hand through his hair.

I placed my hand on his knee. "Dame…it's me. Whatever it is…I'm your father first."

At the end of the day, regardless of all the garbage, he's my son—whether he'd take me out or not, I love him and—circumstances notwithstanding—it doesn't matter.

"I'd never, never hurt you. What I do, who I am outside this house, doesn't change the fact that…I'm your father."

I've never spoken about business with him before. If he starts working for me, I'll treat him like anyone else—_outside_ of this house.

Those were the lines I drew for myself before Sonny was even born. We may talk shop in the living room, or my office, but I'm Edward—Daddy—within the confines of this home first, and the Skip second.

When he clammed up, I felt a twinge of anger. "Christ…What's it going to take to get you to open up to me? I don't know you at all. Frankly, I don't give a fuck about what you did with Sonny. We'll get to that later. But whatever's bugging you now—whether it's because of the shit you've done or not—it won't sway me either way, business-wise, when we all talk later. . . Wait, no . . . I _need_ to know you—_you_, Damion—in this house, as my son, before I can trust you out there as one of my guys." I jerked a thumb. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He nodded.

And then I waited for him to speak up.

When a few minutes had passed us by and an awkward tension filled the garage, I just felt like a fool . . . going out on that limb with him.

"Did we not…love you enough?" I always thought my disregard for human life came from the fact that I didn't have a mother—that I'd been hurt as much as anyone could be, which made nothing else compare. But deep down, I don't know how I can be a heartless bastard, and then me, how I am now—dread in my stomach, lump in my throat, and tears ready to well up—all because . . .

I never wanted either one of them to be anything like me.

Two days ago, before I found out about Damion's small role, I thought he was just doing his thing—isolating himself to focus on school. It's only now, after I became aware, that I realized his distance stems from something much deeper than that.

"Tell me what we did, Dame. We gave youse everything we had, including a shitload of love. We were always there for you guys." I massaged my forehead.

"Of course…you guys…you guys were great parents." His shoulders slumped. "I just…my first hit. I didn't do it consciously. It just happened."

I wanted to tell him about the kid I stabbed when I was sixteen—my first—that fuck who stole my chain, but I just couldn't.

"What's that gotta do with Sonny?"

"I don't know." He was shutting down again.

"What you say to me right now won't leave this garage. You know that, right?" I asked, and then reached over to lock us in with my key—lock the garage door.

He stared up to the ceiling. "I never even knew that guy's name. He could have killed Sonny, instead of the other way around . . . I was there and I stepped in—followed my gut. I wasn't even angry or scared. I just…sprang into action. I felt nothing while I did it…I never feel anything." He sniffled, and for him to cry when he's talking about how he feels nothing…

"When they're dead—when they get that emptiness in their eyes…" He stared unseeing across from himself. "I get a jolt…this level of excitement I've never felt before. It's not because I'm scared or sad…I can feel…_I_ am empty, just like their eyes. It seems like there's nothing inside of me sometimes. Sex is cool for what it is…a release. I know I love my family…I don't know what's wrong with me. But when I do what I do, I get—I can't explain it."

"An adrenaline rush—it's like an adrenaline rush, a surge of power and self-satisfaction," I said.

"Basically," he whispered, wiping his eyes. "I don't feel bad after. I sleep just fine, and I spend more time wondering why that is, than worrying…or stopping that kind of behavior. I don't know what it means."

I nodded.

"Can you tell me what it means? Can you tell me so…Can you tell me how to stop?"

I blew out a breath. "I can't tell you because I don't know. I've done things in anger. I've done things because I was supposed to, or had to, but hits never bothered me either. Nor did they affect me on a personal level. It sort of came with my job, but we're not in the same line of work…" I waved a finger. "It baffles me that you wanna be a doctor, and yet you have this hobby. How does that compute?"

He smiled. "I can't tell you because I don't know. I do…want to help people, though."

"I don't know much about healthcare, but…you can't discriminate on who you treat. If your reasoning for doing what you're doing is because you're doing the world a favor . . . Dame, you're not Superman." I wasn't sure if I was getting my point across correctly. "You won't be able to deny medical care based on someone's morals or ethics. When you get your license, you'll have to treat anyone who comes to you."

Either way, he didn't comment on it.

"If I didn't give you the option, if I told you that you couldn't carry out contracts anymore, will you turn into a...serial killer? A murdering psychopath? If I took away your vice, how would you get high?"

"It's not a vice," he laughed. "I used to…I used to chase it, that high, until Sonny'd just give me mark after mark, and then it became like a job."

I nodded. "Okay."

"They were all bad people." He bit his thumbnail.

"What if they weren't?" I asked.

"Then they'd still be alive." He hopped from the machine. "A mark wouldn't have been placed on their backs. I look at them like I would those guys who shot Sonny…they deserved to die." He stared me down again. "Are those fuckers dead?"

I smiled. "While you were at Disney, I had myself a spree, and we'll leave it at that." As a matter of fact, he was standing inches away from where I killed that kid who followed Bella and me home that one night.

He had no comment.

So, I continued, "Yet, these are people who are essentially like me, your brother, your uncle...practically everyone around you—" I twirled a finger.

"It's a thin line…one I couldn't draw or explain." He shrugged. "I went through my whole childhood being scared of my own shadow." He snorted, shaking his head. "Now even my shadow's scared of me."

I patted his back. "If believing that helps you get through the day . . . I can't erase the images you've seen. If I could, I would—I fucked up as your parent. I failed to keep you safe, but I know when you changed. That day, I was terrified—more so than I'd ever been in my entire life. You feared for your brother's life, but you were young—you only knew what we told you. I hate to think about it." I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. "Meanwhile, I told you to be brave . . . I dragged you twenty feet while we were getting shot at . . . and I told you to be brave." I pushed my hair back. "All your life, I never let you feel the way you wanted to—always telling you bullshit that would make _me_ feel better."

"You tried to comfort me the only way you how—to push your feelings aside and try to forget about them. It works, I guess."

I had no reply to that.

"I just…I don't know. After that all happened, I stopped seeing reasons to smile. And then something else would happen, and then another thing after that. I kept losing faith…in God, in myself, in you guys." He turned, tears falling down his cheeks again. "I started to realize that…a lot of shit was bullshit, you know?"

"I get it…you're talking about your innocence? The shit that made you that lovable little guy . . . You really were a cute fucking kid." I touched his cheek.

"I don't know who I am." He placed his hand on mine.

"You're my son." I pulled him in for a hug. "And you're allowed to be anything in any way you want to be. Just be you." I rubbed his back, and he hugged me tightly while he quietly sobbed. "The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. You know? You don't know me that well, but I'm hoping that in time you will."

"'K."

I smiled, happy to have him in my arms.

All three of my children—it doesn't matter what they do or how old they get—they're still my babies.

"I'm sorry." He leaned away to wipe his nose. "Last night was just fucked . . . I did something horrible."

I raised a brow. "Please don't say that child down the street." Again, I was amused. Sonny was right; she's not my kid, and he couldn't get locked up if he fucked her.

"No." He scoffed. "I hurt the one person that, besides you and Mom, actually loves me…Well, I don't know if she does."

"Julie?"

"Sure." He nodded, lying through his teeth. "I crossed a line, said a bunch of shit. Now I know it was wrong. I'm not in love with her, but I do love her . . . I keep telling myself that I had my head, but I don't really know."

"When was this?" I asked.

"Before I came home…right before I met Maggie." He grinned. "Fucking Church Girl."

"I thought you were okay with not being with Julie anymore?" He was confusing me again.

"I am…I don't know. Look, there's this other chick. We've only been friends, really close up until now."

"Oh!" I exclaimed and then laughed, trying to encourage him to elaborate. "Damn, baby boy. How many girls you got?"

"I don't have any…none. Everything I touch turns to shit."

I rolled my eyes. "Go back to last night."

"It's fucking with my head big time…I mean, am I a rapist on top of being a murderer? I didn't, but…if things didn't play out the way they did, would I have?" He groaned, holding his head. "How could I do that? I forced myself on her, and…she sees me, and…she's just wonderful."

"Whoa…hold up. You know no means no, right?"

"Yes…at least when I'm sober I do." He huffed. "I'd never hurt a female…I love them all, and that's the God's honest truth."

"All right . . . you got a little handsy, or whatever. Sit her down and talk to her, or forget about it. If you stopped, if you didn't hurt her—"

"I crossed a huge fucking line, and I know there's no coming back from it."

"Well…" I didn't know how to help him out. "Ask for forgiveness? I don't know. I've only ever been with your mom—"

He barked out a laugh. "You were a virgin when you met?"

"No, smart-ass." I smacked the back of his head. "She's the only woman I ever loved, ever, and I used to fuck up all the time. Shit, I still do. But before her…it was all bullshit."

"See?" He snorted. "I can't have meaningless sex."

"Then how the fuck can you call yourself empty?" I tried to wrap my head around that one.

"Because whatever I do feel, I feel for a little while, and then it goes away. I can't hold on, sustain emotion." He widened his arms. "The shit I did last night . . . I've never ever been sorry for anything I've ever done. Last night, I wasn't even sorry after the fact. I'm sorry now, but I don't know if I'll even be sorry later . . . Christ." He pulled on his hair with both hands, laughing his ass off—at himself. I didn't like that.

"Chill." I nudged him to stop his chuckling. "Is there any hope youse two will reconcile?" I took a seat on the crate again.

"Um . . . she's, um, she's married."

"Whoa…" I shook my head. "You don't wanna fuck with that. If she's someone else's headache, leave her ass right where she is."

"I thought…I thought there was hope for us, but she loves her husband more, and…I pushed." He cringed and winced and cradled his head.

"Be easy." I reached to squeeze his hand.

"I saw what I wanted to…through liquor goggles and blind hope…I suck."

I laughed. "You don't. And because you fucked up? That just proves you're just as human as the rest of us. One day, one day you'll meet a woman you can't live without. It'll just happen, and you'll know . . . you'll know because they'll matter more than yourself. Just be patient."

"You believe that garbage?" He chuckled.

"I do . . . I'd stake my life on it." I grinned up to him. "There's nothing wrong with you. You can be you…just relax. You're not empty, and you're not a bad person." I shrugged. "At least, you aren't in my eyes."

"Thank you." He sighed, clawing at his face.

"How do you do it? Your method of…" I pulled an air trigger.

His brows rose. "I, you know, I pop'em one." He shrugged.

"And that's the only way you've done it?" I smirked, because this kid thinks he's so badass.

He nodded.

"Who helps you clean shit up?"

He shook his head. "No one. Each job Sonny sent me on…the guy had to be found in plain sight—execution-style."

"And you've only done those who your brother told you to do?"

"Yeah…"

"Can you clean?" I was a little amused at this point.

"No one ever showed me. I mean—"

"Next time, if there will be a next time—we'll talk later—Aro will be with you. He's the best cleaner I know, and you'll learn all aspects…how to cover your ass."

He smiled. "I usually disguise myself."

"Have you ever shot someone as Damion?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but then just shook his head no.

"What role were you playing the first time?" I raised a brow, knowing a little bit about how his mind works.

The side of his mouth turned up. "I was with Sonny…In my head, we were you and Uncle Carlisle…I was you."

"Huh," I mused, finding that interesting. "If there's a next time, I want you to do it as Damion—no costumes, no role-playing shit in your head. And I want you to see if you'll be able to sleep that night." I patted his back.

He huffed a breath. "I need you to understand that I never aspired to do this. I was in a situation, and it happened, and I was able to do it…So, I did it again and again, and yeah."

"I'm not judging you," I said.

"Oh…okay." He went for the door.

"Not so fast." In my eyes, the gateway into his brain was wide open. I wanted to utilize my time. "Later . . . I might not be as…polite as I'm being now."

"What?" He scrunched his nose.

"When we sit down, I'll be playing my role as Skip. Get it? And there's some shit I gotta say, shit you may not like."

He nodded. "I understand . . . I'll be a condescending dick. How 'bout that?"

I laughed. "As long as you can handle the consequences."

"What's that mean?"

I sighed, standing up. "You'll see." I patted his back again before I entered the house. "One more thing . . . take a shower. You smell." He stank of liquor and just...the street, outside for some reason. Like garbage.

"I need more sleep." He straightened his jacket.

"Well, whatever . . . and your mother invited someone here for you."

"For me?" he pointed to himself. "Why—"

"She's gonna try and hook you up with someone."

"And?" he asked.

"And nothing . . . I'm just giving the heads up. She might be what you're looking for. She's single, pretty, in med school too—"

"Wow . . . who is she?"

"Luke's daughter, Amelia." I grinned. "I don't think you two have ever met."

He rubbed his stomach. "I kinda wanna take a break from the whole broads thing."

"Do what you want…Like I said, I was just letting you know. There's no pressure. Besides, I think she's really looking to settle—get married? That's not something you're into."

Damion looked contemplative as he stared at me.

And I felt a twinge of regret for planting that seed in his head.

**Thank you for reading.**

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

**Sonny is up Next!**


	9. Talk is Cheap

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**Thank you all for following the story! I hope you all enjoy the third installment, the conclusion of the Storm Series. Thanks for reading, reviewing - I can't thank you all enough. **

**I'd like to give a shout out to Alice Smith and Pampers26! Thanks for reading! I hope you both continue to enjoy it. 'Cause...I have a lot more story to tell!**

**:-)**

**Are you guys ready for the slow burn? I know sometimes it feels like you only get 1/2 the story. Rest assured, you'll get every single piece of it! Just please be patient! **

**Oh, and please remember my rules: No E/B cheating, and a HEA ALWAYS! **

**Enjoy**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Nine: Talk is Cheap **

**Sonny POV**

_**A**_fter I woke up from my nap, my mother sent me to the store for a bunch of shit. I didn't mind going. It's not like I could ever do this when I was kid: roam the streets alone, run errands, do things my friends did for their moms. I could never do anything that was literally for my mother. Now I can, and so I do. I cherish Sundays—although today is Saturday and only _feels_ like a Sunday—the afternoons I can spend with the whole family.

And today had a bittersweet feel to it.

Soon, Kylie wouldn't be here.

"Damn." I sucked my teeth, taking the groceries out of my Mercedes.

"Mr. Cullen?" someone asked.

I wasn't alarmed because it was a chick's voice.

"Mr. Cullen is my father." I smiled, but then I saw her. It was Dame's little boo from last night—the young one. "How can I help you?"

She was cute, bundled from head-to-toe in jeans and a baggy sweater. "Is, is Damion home?"

I thought about that. I was sure he was, but I still hadn't seen him since last night. "I don't know—I'm just arriving," I lied.

"Oh." She rocked back on her heels. "Can you give him this?" She handed me a folded piece of paper.

I looked down to see doodles of hearts and circles and clouds. "Awww. I bet he's going to love this." I held it up, and I was dying to read it.

And then, since I knew he wouldn't give it to her, I asked, "Did you want his phone number?"

Her eyes lit up and she nodded. "That'd be awesome. We didn't get the chance to exchange numbers. Um…do you have a pen?"

I always have a pen, and I scribbled his digits quickly for her on her palm. "Don't smudge it."

She stared at her hand. "Mine is in the note." She pointed.

"Okay . . . He's really busy with school nowadays—"

"Me, too," she said.

"Right . . . Anyway, if he doesn't pick up, it's always best to call as many times until he does."

"I thought guys didn't like that?" She frowned.

_I_ thought I was caught. "Damion's not like regular boys, now is he?" I grinned.

She sighed. "He's not—he's all man." This little chick looked like she was suddenly in heat.

"Whoa . . . Well, I'll give this to him, and you call him—later. Call him later."

"What's your name? I know you're the big one—I mean, oldest."

"Santino."

"Wow…And your car is really nice, too." She tried to peek inside.

I rolled my eyes under my sunglasses. "Take care."

When I entered the house, everything was back to normal. My father was in his office with my uncle. By now I was hanging around to see when they'd call for us. Kylie was watching a movie in the den, and my mother was cooking dinner with my aunt in the kitchen.

None of my cousins were here, so I guessed my aunt and uncle's presence was for Carlisle to confer with Dad. I expected Eddie to at least tag along, but he's sleeping over a friend's house tonight.

"Where's Damion?" I asked.

There was a crash, and Alex dropped the salad bowl. "You scared me." She held her chest.

"My bad," I said.

"You're awfully jumpy today." Mom shook her head, cleaning up around her.

"I am so, so sorry." She grabbed my mother's hand.

"It's just lettuce," Mom laughed. "I think I saw him out back." She looked to me and then to Alex. "Let's crack open some wine. I'm still celebrating."

"I could use a drink." Alex looked relieved.

When I entered the backyard, I was surprised to see my brother, or rather the state he was in. I'm not even sure if he sobered up from last night, but he was nursing a beer, wearing the same bloodied clothes. Someone should have made his ass shower already. What the fuck was I? His mother?

"Dude, what's your damage?" I sat in the neighboring lounge chair.

He shook his head, which made his hair practically stand up. Damion looked like a bum-cartoon character, Jimmy Neutron on crack.

"Come on . . . You got me good last night." I sat back. "But while I drove, I thought about what you said . . . I drove around and tried to kill time. After we left, I chilled with Dad until he calmed down. Then when the morning came, I had no choice. He was ready to call everyone and actively search for her."

"You did the right thing."

"You have a hangover?" I asked, flicking the glass beer bottle.

"No, yeah—Dad said this'll help, cat fur or something," he whispered.

"It's called hair of the dog," I laughed. "Cat fur."

"I'm not a drinker, nor do I do drugs." He adjusted his shades, letting out a breathy chuckle. "I feel—I don't know how I feel. Have you ever done something, and then regretted it after?"

I nodded. "That's guilt—remorse. You finally have some?"

"But it was amazing and you wanna do it again, even though now you totally know it was wrong, and you were totally buggin' before it happened?" He spoke too fast. I couldn't understand him, and that's weird for someone who barely says a word.

"What?" I laughed. "Did'ju get fresh with whatsherface across the street? I'm not judging you. Whatever you did, she liked it."

"Christ . . . I can't do this. Tell Dad I had a panic attack—which might just happen in a few minutes." He held his heart. "I can't even go inside. Why am I so fucking paranoid—"

"Since when do you panic?" I felt for him, I truly did, but what the fuck could Damion have done? Especially with a chick? When it comes to icing fuckers and life in general, he's like an idiot savant—skates through smoothly without a care. But women? He can't function around them. "She's legal. You won't get in trouble—"

"I didn't fuck that little girl!" He practically screamed.

"Fuck...relax."

He groaned. "If Mom hadn't sprayed me with the hose, I might have, but—"

I threw my head back and laughed. "She got you?"

He gulped some more beer. "Just tell Dad forget it. I won't—won't interfere again. I won't do anything that has to do with the thing. _Capisce_?" He left the chair and was about to go inside before he just hopped the fence.

"Dame!" I shouted and then ran after him. He sounded insane right now, even for Damion.

He was walking up the block wearing a pair of slippers.

"How are you getting back to the city?" I sprinted and caught up to him. "Talk to me."

"Just tell Dad—"

I placed my hands on his biceps. "I can't _just_ tell Dad anything. He knows you've done some shit. Shit a made member of the fam should have carried out. I was wrong for giving you those jobs, but no one was supposed to find out. I'll take the blame—"

"No," he said. "I did all those things." He blew out a breath. "Dad, I can handle. We spoke earlier . . ."

We started walking back to the house. We were quiet for a bit while my mind reeled.

"Then what is it?" I asked, hopping over that same fence, still very confused. For things to go back to how they were before the mess of Kylie's wedding, and now this?

He slowly did the same, swinging his leg over to jump down. "I did something last night." He broke out into this huge smile, and then he smacked his own face.

I just stood there and stared at him in disbelief. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"If I tell you, you'll kick my ass, but I know I _can_ tell you because, no matter how much you'll hate me, you don't want me dead."

I nodded along, hoping and praying I'd be understanding. "Okay."

"You love me."

"Most days," I admitted. "What is it?" A bit pissed, I smacked the back of his head.

He shrugged away from me and took off his jacket. "I'm all sweaty."

"You smell, too." I stood in front of him fast. "Your nine—no one knows I got you one."

He handed it to me, and I put it under a potted plant. "Grab it later . . . but spit it out."

"When you dropped me off, I didn't go to the bar right away. . . I-uh-I went to Uncle Carlisle's house—"

"No," I said, my stomach dropping to my knees.

He smiled. "Yeah."

"Oh God, no." I pulled my own hair, and I wasn't angry. I think I was in shock. "You—you with—and her?"

He nodded, swallowing loudly. "Don't say shit."

"Fuck." My mind was blank. I didn't feel like beating the fuck out of him, and I had no idea how to make him feel better. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Like you never wanted to—"

"I was twelve!" I shouted. "She was the only chick who wasn't related, who—"

"Shut up!" He was pulling his own hair again, and now I knew why it was like that. "Anyone hears you talking like that, they'll know who we're talking about, idiot."

"I'm an idiot?" I pointed to myself.

"Please . . . who cares? Right?" He snorted. "Carlisle's out doing whatever he wants."

I grabbed his arm. "He worships her. She's _all_ he talks about. Once again, just because you see one side, one aspect, don't fucking assume. He chills at the club on occasion, but that's all he does is chill. He was telling me last night about how tonight, after they left here, he was taking her away on vacation. He just kept talking—so excited."

He shook his head. "Anthony told me all this crap . . . People don't change. Do you even remember Aunt Esme? 'Cause I—I don't think I do, which is odd. She—" he placed two fingers in his mouth, pulling an air trigger, "when I was like eight, right?"

I shrugged, not wanting to think about that shit.

"He's a womanizer. Fuck him," Dame laughed.

"Dad and I are with him five or six days a week. Don't you think we'd know—that I'd know what I'm talking about? What the fuck was Alex telling you?" I asked, keeping my tone low.

He didn't say anything for a beat too long.

"Did she seduce you?" I found that highly unlikely, but I had to ask.

His brows went up and then they came down. That fuck was going to lie to me, but thought better. "She's just been unhappy—never said that much about . . . what Carlisle does, but . . . I just assumed."

"You're a moron." I spat.

"I wanted to make her happy." He frowned. "I care for her, but I'm not in love, in love with her. I realize that now."

"Thank fuck for that." I took a seat again. "Sit."

He plopped down, and he just kept shaking his head like he was a bobblehead doll.

I blew out a large breath, pushing my hair back to tame it. "So…?"

"So?" He widened his eyes.

"What'd you do, kiss?" I asked.

He threw his head back and laughed. "What do you think I'm talking about?"

I bit my lip, hoping he didn't actually fuck her. "Well?"

"Well, what? I used the condom I had . . . and then I came in her mouth—"

I gasped like some pussy bitch, but then recovered enough to knock him out the chair. "Talkin' about mouths—watch yours!" Regardless of Alex looking the way she does, and despite what she might have done with my brother—she's still my aunt, my mother's best friend.

That nut was laughing and holding his face. "Thanks…I needed that."

"Get up." The agitation rose to my chest. "Fight me—not with your words, punk-ass."

"No . . . I should just kill myself."

I kicked him in the ass anyway for saying that shit. "Get up."

"What are you doing?" Mom shouted.

When I turned, she was on the porch, gazing down at us. "I—"

"Stop beating on your brother! You're going to be freaking thirty in a few years—my God."

"Mom—"

"What's up?" Dad was behind her. "What's he doing on the floor?" He pointed.

I held my forehead, now wondering why I even bother to come home anymore. To the outside world, I'm an adult, but to my family—me, my brother and I—we're still kids. "His mouth earned him one." I shrugged.

"Get up!" Dad hollered down to Dame. "Beat his ass. Don't just fucking—Didn't I raise you better? Fight him!"

Carlisle followed them out, and all three of them stood above us. "Leave him alone. Dame's not the aggressive type."

"Why are you defending him?" I asked our uncle.

"Word." Dad stared him down. "Sometimes people need a beat down. You should know."

Carlisle laughed. "You feelin' froggy, Ed? I _will _fight you back."

"Stop!" Mom stiffened, screaming where she was.

Dad, Carlisle, and I started laughing at her.

"Dinner's almost ready." Mom went back into the house.

I kicked at Damion's foot. He looked more like road kill. "Get up. I won't hit you."

He lay flat, like he was about to make a dirt angel. "What did I do?"

"What happened?" Dad and Carlisle were still on the porch. "You—yeah, you!" Dad pointed down to Dame. "Go take a shower. You fucking stink. You're not sitting at my table like that."

Damion wore a pout as he sat up.

"Don't look at me like that."

Damion fixed his face. You see? We're still treated like children. Nevertheless, neither Dame nor I said a word until Dad and Carlisle went back in.

"What now?" I asked.

"How am I supposed to get through dinner, and then a sit-down . . ."

I smiled. "You made your bed, bro. But seriously . . . even if youse two hadn't—whatever—you'd still sit at that table with your head down. What's different now?"

"I can't stop looking at her. The face she made when she came—fuck!"

I got him again. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He crawled into the chair again, and in this moment he actually resembled a child. It made me feel bad for him. Whatever happened . . . he probably had no control. It's not like he's ever around women in that capacity, except Julie. Then again, I never really understood their arrangement anyway. I bet he acts like a fifteen year old, fumbling around a pussy for the first time.

"How was it? For real?" I hit his knee.

"I did everything you said. I was persistent, I was a little bit of a dick, and she never said no, but now I think back…I don't know if she was afraid of me. I mean, she reacted—I think she did." He grabbed his forgotten beer and guzzled it down.

"What…you don't know if she came, or…?"

Damion stared at the ground and didn't answer me.

"You can usually tell..." I looked to him. "They can moan and scream, but if it's over the top? They're usually faking it. You can feel it on your cock. It's subtle . . . but unless their shit is as wide as the Lincoln Tunnel—"

"Christ. I know all that . . . I lied," he whispered.

"What?" I was confused.

"We didn't fuck…I kissed her, forced her to kiss me, and then she pulled a gun on me…She said no a bunch of times." He chucked the longneck across the yard. "Fuck."

"Youse two didn't…?"

"No," he said. "I wanted the crap kicked out of me, but you were too calm. I feel horrible. I can't _not_ look at her … and I can't face her. I thought—I thought she was into me, but now…I can see how I frightened her."

I pursed my lips, trying to make sense of this. "She said no?"

"I just keep getting images and flashbacks, and most of it is like…seen through a drunken fog?" He looked to me.

I winced, not wanting to think about that shit either. "Put it out of your head. God forbid this came out, Unc would be out for blood—yours."

"I know," he whispered. "But it was awesome. I remember how I felt, regardless of how _she_ felt, and it was magic—"

I smacked the back of his head again. "I'm sorry. Magic? Grow the fuck up. She's been fucking and warding off losers like you since before you were born."

He shrugged. "I know she's into me. She's just scared . . . And now, she might actually hate me—probably thought I was going to rape her." He groaned, holding his head.

"First of all, no is no."

"I know that."

"You obviously don't," I said. "No is no, not she says no, but I bet she's leaking like a faucet, so fuck it. Wise up."

"It was only a kiss. Overall, I was in control." He pointed to himself. "Me. I wanted something, and I took it." He nodded, looking down.

"I hope something good comes from this. I hope you come into your own more. I hope you start—I don't know. Maybe she is magic, and now you suddenly have a set of balls," I laughed.

"You know I got balls, bro." He smirked. "You're just hatin' because I did something you've always wanted to. Even if you deny it until the day you die, you know I'm right. When I was twelve, I was in love with Megan Fox, and I'd still go through hell or high water to hit that shit today—after masturbating about it for years. How much you wanna bet she's what's up with the penchant you have for older women—"

"Dame—"

"You know I'm right. Let me talk."

I gritted my teeth and waited for him to finish.

"I mean," he got real close and was in my ear, "you better hope it's because of Alex. Otherwise, that older women shit is about Mom. You ever heard of an Oedipus Complex? When you talk about filling Dad's shoes . . . how in depth are you talking?"

I pushed him away from me as something became very clear. "You did this because of Bianca."

He grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "You'll never know, now will you?"

I yanked him back to me. "Maybe I'm jealous—just a bit because of some pubescent fantasy, but I'm not heartless. You didn't know Bianca, and neither did I. She was fair game, and you probably just tore this family apart—even if it was just a kiss, a petty hookup."

He pushed me off of him. "Stop. Now you're really—"

I nudged him again. "I'm what? Now I'm really what?" I cupped my ear. "You won't hit me because you can't. It takes little muscle to pull a trigger, and I've always fought your battles." I stood to my full height, waiting for him to do something. "You don't know how to fight . . . So, you kissed someone other than Julie's ugly ass. You brave now?" I was trying to hit every button I could while his beady eyes glared into mine.

"Brave? Well, I sure as fuck ain't scared of you." He smiled.

"You should be." I nodded.

He shook his head. "You'll hit me, knock me down a notch because you're physically stronger. You'll always make sure I'm below you, so you'll come out on top, and that's okay. But in the long run," he started to fix my shirt and smooth my sleeves, "it doesn't make you better. It doesn't make you smarter. It only makes _you_ feel good. I'll be your punching bag, keep my mouth shut while you reach for the stars, or is it the throne?" He raised a brow.

"Fuck you." It didn't seem like he understood me at all.

"You trying to teach me a lesson on how to fight? Is that it?" It finally dawned on him. "I do fight. Nothing stops me from going after the things I want. I may not talk much, but fuck. If I want something, I go get it—I take it, while you sit there and wait for someone to hand it to you. That's the difference between you and me, and you'd never be anywhere if it weren't for me—"

"Here we go!" I threw my hands in the air. "I was sucker punched, would've killed that fucker with my bare hands if I had to, and you forget—how you have so much money, how you're able to buy a suit like this." I gestured to him. "It's fucked now, but . . . Bottom line, we've helped each other out, but you're only where you are because of me. You essentially didn't do shit _for_ me."

"What's this really about?" Dad asked, and it sounded like he was behind me.

I groaned.

"You didn't see him?" Dame asked. "I knew the second he came out here."

"Good for you," I said, turning for the door.

My brother speaks in riddles, and what he says is mostly lies. Out of all the shit he's said so far, I had no idea what was true. I just didn't give a fuck anymore. He spends his whole life lurking in the shadows, and now that he's come out from the darkness, I don't like what I see. I had more respect for him when I thought he was silent and deadly. Now he just sounds like a whiny moron. He's acting immature, and he brings nothing to the table—money making-wise—besides being able to fire a gun.

"You want him involved?" I asked my father, opening the screen. "Put him with Nunzio. He can get closer to Bianca." I looked back to my brother, knowing I just did him a favor, or gave him another choice of bride.

The way this fucked up family works . . .

We did everything in our power to get Kylie's wedding canceled, but Nunzio will practically put a price on Bianca's head. It'd be a match made in heaven, and I know my brother's just dying to get it over with—be settled down and married, especially before he starts his residency—wherever that might be. I don't even think it matters who it is. He'll learn to love whoever.

After all, he has a heart made of stone, yet manages to love everyone.

"Don't walk away." Dad stopped me. "This—it seems like more than just youse bullshitting and arguing."

I was content not to say a word about it. What Damion did was done—in the past already—and there wasn't shit he could do about it now.

"All right." Dad was ready to be referee. "After dinner we're going to talk, but settle this shit now as brothers. If you wanna be partners—"

"Whoa, you're mixing two different things." Thinking about Dame as a brother and an associate, a true associate, just didn't mix well for me. "You wanna talk about this now? All of it?"

"Yeah, sure." Dad scratched his nose. "Let's get this shit over with."

I cringed, the agitation eating at me. "No, I don't want us to be partners…I've never even heard of that. He wants to do what he does . . . He can do whatever. I'll do what I do, and that's it."

"You really don't want him on your crew? Joe's gone. He's gonna be running with his father now. You won't look after him—"

"I don't need anyone looking out for me," Damion said.

Dad and I ignored him, facing each other. "He's not involved like that. I give him a name, and he does what he does. He doesn't meet with any friends of ours. He doesn't make any outside money. He's not connected to anyone but me."

"I'm more of a…behind-the-scenes assassin." Damion smiled at Dad.

Our father couldn't see the humor in his words. "You have no idea how serious this is, do you? You think it's all a game?" He advanced toward Dame. "When life gets a little humdrum—I don't know—you don a costume, and then go all vigilante like a superhero?"

I got between them. "That's my fault. He doesn't know anything. He doesn't know the rules—"

"Who have you told?" Dad asked. "Have you gone and ran your mouth to Miss Doom and Gloom?"

"Who?" my brother asked, while I laughed. "Dad, Julie's not goth or whatever. She's into punk, there's a difference." Damion shook his head. "And fuck no. She don't know."

Dad nodded. "If you don't know dick about it, you have no business being involved." He looked to me. "I thought you took him under your wing or something."

"Nope," I said. "I looked out for him . . ."

"But Georgie knows."

I nodded. "As my right hand man, Georgie knows some shit."

"He iced a made guy from another family. By right, I can't have his back unless he—himself—is a made guy." He pointed to Dame.

"Yeah, but no one's ever going to find out. Who knows about this?" I stared at our father. "You making it more of an issue than it needs to be is what's broadcasting his actions. More people know now—"

"Watch it." Dad put his finger in my face.

"What?" Damion asked.

"They were hits I was supposed to carry out," I said. "People know not to fuck with me. But…no one will find out. Georgie knows, so what? He'd never repeat it."

"You can't have my back? So…if this got out, if someone told Boston…they could kill me and there'd be nothing you can do about it? By right, anyway? 'Cause they'd be correct and you'd be wrong?" Damion asked.

Dad nodded. "But you're my son. If we had to go to war, or I had to defend you with my life, no one's touching you." He leaned over to kiss Dame's head, and I smiled.

I was sure my little brother wanted die anyway—being kissed by Daddy.

"We're not going to war," I laughed, my father always thinking the worst. "The hit was sanctioned by Antonio no matter who carried it out."

A few months back, a couple of guys came down from Boston with the intent to get backing on this overseas importing/exporting bullshit. They had their own docks in their bays, but some shit would be coming through New York.

They'd need to pay us for the privilege.

I was a dick, and the deal went through. I got them to pay us three figures more than what Dad was asking. It was a good day, and so we celebrated—drinks at Eclipse and whatnot.

The same night one of the guys they called Nicki got physical with one of the girls.

Taking clients into the private rooms isn't unheard of. My father swears that shit didn't fly back when he ran the club. And it wasn't my intent to make it the way it is now, either.

But it keeps the clientele coming back for more, and so I turn a blind eye. None of the dancers are required to do any of it. I wouldn't even say they were turning tricks at the club. They dance for tips . . . and a few do other things for bigger tips—one hand washes the other.

The new girl, Layla—who calls herself Fantasia—wasn't down to fool around. There is such a thing as going to the back for a private dance and that's it. It's what Nicki asked for, and Layla went along with it—knowing the group were my special guests.

Whether they sneak away for sex acts or not, security is always close by. The private rooms aren't that private, and a guard is always right outside the door.

When Layla said no, she didn't have the opportunity to ring the buzzer—alert someone. Nicki beat the fuck out of her, raped her, tore her up. Momo found her hours later curled in a ball, hiding in the room out of sight, and our out-of-town guests had already hit the road.

She told me who did it, but only after I promised her—swore to Christ that the animal wouldn't get to do it again. It was heartbreaking for me. I don't know Layla outside of her being my employee, but I couldn't let her go to the cops—I had to keep her quiet; meanwhile, she was the victim.

Layla should have been able to do whatever she wanted—needed to help her peace of mind. But her alerting authorities would put us all in the hot seat, and then I'd have to make her disappear.

One of the doctors we have on the payroll fixed her up. I even slipped him a few more bucks so he'd stay with her overnight. Layla slept in my office until she was ready to go home.

I took her home because she'd bonded with me somehow. She was frantic and wouldn't let me leave. I went along with it. We picked up her son from her aunt's house—a cute two-year-old named Jason—and then I helped her get settled in. Her apartment was a dump, but then she's young—just turned twenty-one a week before she'd started working at Eclipse. All of that pulled on my heartstrings, and I swore I'd see to it that she was taken care of. Especially since I didn't expect her to come back to work any time soon.

I didn't know what to do. I knew what I wanted to do—go to Boston and clip that fucker. I had no qualms doing it my-motherfucking-self. That's where Dame's wrong about me.

If I have a valid reason . . .

Regardless of what I wanted to do, I had to go about it another way. Aro and I drove up to Boston together. We sat down with Antonio Matuella and his guys, yet Nicki was nowhere to be found. Now, when we all chilled together, their titles were kept on the hush. I knew who the top guy was, who I was speaking with, but the rest? They came down with this entourage like we were going to start something, needing a bunch of heads to come to a bullshit sit-down.

It turned out that Nicki was a low-man. He wasn't anybody, and rather than Antonio having his back, he gave us his blessing.

That shit was unheard of. Even if I wanted him dead, Layla was just a dancer. She wasn't anyone's relative, or connected to anyone at all. So, what Nicki did shouldn't affect our dealings at all.

When we sat down with Antonio, we were only looking for more money—restitution for disrespecting my place of business, pay-off money for Layla.

Nicki wasn't worth the price we were asking, and Antonio didn't want any beef with New York.

Not in so many words, we got the go-ahead.

My imagination ran wild—thinking of all the ways he could die. One of them involved Layla—I thought she could get her own revenge since we wouldn't let her go to the cops.

But Damion caught the ass-end of a conversation.

Damion became so worked up after hearing about Layla.

Damion begged me for the job—another opportunity.

He was to go up there, do it, and then come right back, and he did it. All of which makes his Alex story seem unreal. My brother's a sick fuck, this I know, but crossing a line—that line? It just didn't make any sense. He has a lot of respect for women, more so for the females in this family. He adores women, so hearing that he hurt one? It didn't sit well with me.

"Regardless of if you know the rules or not, you've earned it. You've taken care of . . . how many contracts?" Dad asked.

"Seven." Dame and I said in unison.

"You can get your button . . . but only if you work directly under your brother."

Dame and I looked to each other, and it got even more uncomfortable when Carlisle came out.

"What's the verdict?" Unc put his arm around my brother. "You were always such a cuddly kid." He got a kiss on the head from Carlisle, too, which was just weird.

"Yeah, that's me." Dame smiled. "Cuddly." That fucker winked at me.

"Can you believe these two?" Carlisle beamed at my father.

"I'm not proud of either one of them." Dad snorted. "This one lied to that one—saying it was okay to do what he did, and now I'm in a tight spot." He spoke of us like we weren't even here.

"I apologize. I take full responsibility, but Georgie—"

"You're going to take care of Georgie." Dad spat out through clenched teeth. "He knows about your brother . . . he's done."

"Now my crew's two guys short? Oh, but you'll give me Dame, which will equal half of Georgie or Joe? He's got nothing going." I jerked my thumb. "You know how it goes…" My guys kick up to me, so I can kick up…It'll be tight. That fucks with my wallet.

"Georgie's done. How you make your bank isn't my concern." Dad looked away from me.

"Georgie runs the brokerage. He's too valuable to me and to you." I held my forehead in disbelief. "If Dame's on my crew, he's gotta take the Series 7. All of which will set him up with a new day job. He goes to school—"

"No way," Damion said.

Dad nodded but didn't say anything. He stared at the ground with his hands on his hips.

"Give me a solution, and I'll bring you Georgie's fucking head. It's not about him personally," I sighed. "If it was…it wouldn't be an issue."

"Maybe I can chill at the brokerage—"

I smiled at my father. "You're serious?"

He nodded. "What else am I really doing during the day? I can have my meetings there, pretend they're clients. What's Georgie do? Tell the minions which stocks to push?" He shrugged. "You tell me and I'll tell them."

"You'd still have to take the test—"

"What about your mother? She likes stocks and shit, and it's all sort of legit." Dad and Carlisle nodded at each other. "She has no interest in the salon. This might be good for her. She can do it part time."

"Mom? Are you serious? The key word being 'sort of', and I need full-time. Not to mention that she'd be a huge liability. Once she found out what we were doing . . . She'd turn it legit and then try to turn a profit." I snorted.

"That's—" Carlisle pointed at me, nodding rapidly. "That'll happen."

"Can you think of anyone off the top of your head?" Dad asked.

"No other connected guys work at the storefront that I can promote to run the fucking thing. They're kids—fresh out of college. We scooped them up fast…the job market isn't good for them, so instead of working on Wall Street they're on Mulberry." I shrugged.

"How does this work?" My father was genuinely interested.

"I know a couple guys from the big firms. They—sometimes they have, uh, premonitions, so to speak—"

"Insider trading," Carlisle said.

I ignored him. "And sometimes we throw out a junk stock for pennies. They add up. Those fuckers at the brokerage know who runs shit, and they're too scared not to push what we sell—although we don't _make_ them." I bought the storefront next to La Bella Italia two years ago, and it's been a moneymaker ever since.

"Put Anthony in there," Carlisle said.

"Doesn't he have school?" I asked.

"He's not doing too well, but he'll graduate anyway . . . and he has no idea what to do with himself. Maybe he'll dig it, and it'll push him in the right direction. Don't worry about him with a test . . . I'll find a way for him to pass without him even taking it. It'll work out. You just have to tell him what to do."

"Okay." I had no problem with that, but I still didn't like it. "Maybe Georgie can—"

Dad's finger was in my face fast. "I don't wanna hear that fucker's name anymore—especially not from your mouth. You got that?"

There wasn't anything I could do but agree. "Aro—"

"Fuck Aro. That's what_ I_ just said, and that's what _you're_ going to do."

"Yeah." I shrugged. "No problem."

"And Dame can . . . You can figure out how he'll be of use to you. I don't know." Dad rubbed his face.

"Georgie's going to die because of me?" Damion asked.

"His death is more on your brother's hands for being careless."

"Thanks." I was sarcastic.

"I don't even want to be that involved." Dame walked over to Dad.

"It's either all of it or none of it, son." Our father was being really sweet to Damion, actually conversing with him instead of about him.

"I just started my third year of medical school. Do you know how busy I'm going to be this year? I'll be doing clinical rotations most of the time. I'll be in the actual hospital. Dad, I'm not going to have any time to run with a crew—I haven't even picked a specialty, and the best residencies aren't even in New York." He ranted. "I have my sights set on Hopkins."

Dad blinked, like he had no idea what Damion was saying, or maybe he just didn't care.

"Listen, Dame just wants a license to kill—"

"Sonny!"

I ignored my brother. "Call a spade a spade . . . I hardly understand it. To me, whacking fuckers makes more sense when there's a goal to be achieved behind it—retribution of some sort."

"Very true," Carlisle said.

"How 'bout if I just fucking felt like it?" Damion shouted.

"Who the fuck you screaming at like that?" Dad stared at him. "Go sit down."

Damion turned around only to come back. "Everyone's always judging me, and I'm tired of being—being quiet." I had no idea what show he was performing now.

"You're still high," Dad laughed, gesturing for him to continue. "The floor is yours."

"I'm not high anymore," Dame whispered. "Maybe." That made a lot of sense.

"You guys smoked?" I asked, disappointed.

"Yeah, that shit you gave me," Dad said.

"You got any more?" Carlisle asked.

"I can make a call." I nodded.

"Hello!" The child stomped his foot.

"Just hop in and fucking talk. This isn't a forum, or a classroom." My father shook his head, but I could tell he was mildly amused. "You don't need to raise your hand."

"While it's great for you and Sonny, I do not aspire to be the next Don of New York. I did what I did . . . it's over now. I just won't do anything else. This is too much, and I don't want it."

Dad laughed. "You don't have a choice now. You made your decision the moment you pulled a fucking trigger."

"Ed, come on. Don't force him to do it, be involved. He made a mistake…thought he was tough shit. I don't know." Carlisle patted Dame's back.

"When you're done learning how to save lives, you're working for me. I own your ass, and you're going to make this up to me. You don't have to be a made guy…for now. Your brother and I will clean up this mess… and then, if you even think about stepping foot in that club—Eclipse, Midnight Sun, or Twilight—any place where friends of ours chill? You better think again. All of it or none of it." He wiped his hands clean. "You're not to be around any of our associates."

"I respect that," Damion whispered.

"And you're going into General Surgery," Dad finished.

"What?" Now Damion didn't look so calm.

"Dame," Carlisle was going to explain. "We have doctors on the payroll. You'll be one of them. Which—roughly translated means—you'll be on call all the time. We need something, we get hurt, you're our guy." He chuckled. "And I mean anyone who's involved with the thing can call you at any time. Sometimes things happen, and we can't go to the emergency room."

"No fucking way!" Damion shouted. "That's bullshit. You just don't want me to leave New York."

"I made my decision." Dad turned, going back into the house.

"Give him some time," Carlisle told Dame. "He just found out last night. It's shocking the fuck out of him. You were always the good one."

"It wasn't a big deal. I don't—"

"You don't understand," Carlisle laughed. "When your father looks at you, it's like he's looking in a mirror—in more ways than one. And he's never come to grips with his own reasoning of why he's done the things he's done. He sees himself in you, and he doesn't want that for you."

"Dad'll calm down." I nodded.

Meanwhile, our father seemed relatively calm already. Frustrated at the circumstances or not, he was sugarcoating everything for Dame, from what he said to the decisions he's made. Maybe the Skip can put on a front for Carlisle and Damion, but – deep down – he doesn't want Dame involved at all.

By not giving my brother a choice, he was pushing Dame away.

Whether Damion realizes it or not, our father just played him.

"I'm not a little kid. I'll own my mistakes. I'll take care of Georgie myself. That'll make us all square," Damion said, drawing one in the air. "I'll do it right fucking now, and then I'll walk away. This isn't the career move I wanted to make."

"Why'd you do it then? If you weren't trying to prove something to your father?" our uncle asked.

Damion slowly blew out a breath. "I wanted to . . . and I could."

"But why?" Carlisle waved him on.

Damion shrugged. "Stop being so nice to me!" Oh, the guilt was really getting to him. It doesn't add up—his "behind-the-scenes assassin" status and the punk in front of me now. Whatever happened last night fucked with his head big time.

"What'd I do?" Carlisle wore a face.

"Nothing…You just—" Damion stared our uncle down.

"Yes?" Unc leaned into Dame. "Go on."

My brother averted his gaze and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Nothing. I'm sorry."

Carlisle laughed, massaging his shoulder. "You handled yourself well. You're a good kid. Even if you think you want it now . . . you won't in a few years. What's good for your father, Sonny, and me might not be good for you. Understand?"

"Yeah . . . Thanks."

"I didn't have a choice—it was never something I wanted." He scrubbed his face with his hand. "Keep your nose in those books…" Carlisle went on and on about how school was more important than anything else in the world right now.

Watching him being so nice to my brother was aggravating, no longer amusing. I felt badly for my uncle—being played by Dame like that and at that level of humiliation. Dad was misleading, but it was for his own good. This was just fucked up—very hate-filled to me for some reason—on my brother's part.

My uncle's a good guy. Whether he used to be a horrible husband/boyfriend or not, he's always loved us kids—would do anything for us, his niece and nephews included.

"I'm just saying . . . don't be upset about this is all. It's a godsend. Maybe you don't see it now, but soon you will." Carlisle gave Dame a half-hug.

"Thank you, Uncle Carlisle."

He winked, pinching Dame's cheek with his knuckles. "If you ever need to talk, my door is always open."

I pushed my hair back, still annoyed. "I'm going inside… And take a shower!" I hollered back to Dame.

**To Be Continued . . . In Sonny's POV. **

**He's got a long day ahead of him. **

**And soon, we'll meet Amelia. Can't wait to hear all the hatin'. LOL. I'm kidding. It just seems you guys don't like any other females except Bella. **

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	10. Actions Speak Louder

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**Slow burn...in ch13, we'll flash forward in time and keep going. This weekend is essential, though - with so many views and different things happening, how it's all changing. Enjoy!**

**Is anyone still reading? LOL**

**HUGE thank you for everyone who does/has followed the story over here =D Love you guys!**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Ten: Actions Speak Louder**

**Sonny POV**

_"Thank you, Uncle Carlisle."_

_He winked, pinching Dame's cheek with his knuckles. "If you ever need to talk, my door is always open."_

_I pushed my hair back, still annoyed. "I'm going inside… And take a shower!" I hollered back to Dame._

_**T**_hat chick Amelia was probably here already. Hopefully Damion will wear a suit and make a good impression. Since this is his main address, he still has most of his shit here. I've been to his dorm. The man lives like a monk, only has the basic essentials. It's weird to say the least, especially since he has a roommate. I think he has a laptop, a phone charger, and _some_ clothes. Last I saw, there were books everywhere, the walls bare.

Dorm life was never for me. I always commuted—being that I also went to NYU and loved my privacy—or I slept at Eclipse back when it used to be Dad's office. That pullout couch is pretty comfortable. Then when I started law school, I had this teeny studio near Washington Square Park, up until last year when Dad said the tenants in his apartment building were leaving. Now I live a few blocks away, and I'm privy to everything. I loved this neighborhood—a part of me feels like I own it—and I don't predict that I'll be leaving soon.

By the time I made it up to the living room, all the females were sitting around and congregating—doing what women do—and talking. I waved and smiled, trying not to let my gaze linger on Amelia at all. She was here, and she was gorgeous—a petite brunette with a pretty smile and a fat ass.

_My brother was going to love her._

I'm partial to blondes with big tits these days; however, I don't really have a set preference.

No, women _is _a type.

I smirked to myself.

"Sonny!" Mom smiled brightly, waving me over. "This is Amelia Drasso."

Realizing she must look like her mother, I was thankful she didn't resemble Luke at all as I shook her hand. "It's great to meet you."

"What, you're no longer going by Santino?" Alex asked through a laugh. "You usually correct people." She gulped the rest of her wine and was quick to pour herself some more.

I hummed, low and under my breath.

My mother and Alex were together, and there was wine.

_It was going to be one of those nights. _

"I know, right?" Mom snorted. "It's Santino—get it straight, son!" She brought her voice down to a low baritone, trying to mimic me.

I think in this family . . . insults and being abused are the sincerest form of flattery. They were poking fun, yet they were endearing. "Funny." I winked at my mother, glad she was having a good time with her friend—at anyone's expense.

"You know we love you." She gave me half a hug.

"So…is it Sonny or Santino?" Amelia asked.

I shrugged. "Whichever."

"I like Santino . . ." She grinned. "Is that your Benz…the black AMG, outside?"

"It is…" I placed my hands in my pockets, extremely uncomfortable. Amelia had stood up to speak to me. But my mother and Alex were sitting behind her—silently making lewd gestures and pointing—acting like perverted children.

Nevertheless, I thought Amelia was here for Damion, yet this is exactly how all the blind dates my mother's sent me on have started. The chicks usually have prior knowledge, too, which is weird. It's as though my mother gives them a pep talk, a spank on the ass, and then sends them to hit on her sons. I know the deal, although I don't know why she's always so concerned about our love lives—or lack thereof.

She's a nosy, overbearing meddler that I love to death, because . . . her intentions come from the heart, no matter her reasoning. She wants us happy.

"It's a beautiful car…I mean, really. My dad has a gray one."

"That's his baby," Mom said, trying her hardest not to laugh. And I didn't know what was funny. Okay, so the both them acting like jackasses is always a laugh riot, but they were being corny.

"I can see why—" Amelia went to turn around, but I stopped her from looking back at them.

"Have you met everyone yet?" I removed my hand from her shoulder.

She smiled, shaking her head.

When I heard Dad coming up the stairs, I presented him like a game show host. "This is my father—Mr. Cullen."

Dad wore a long face as he took the last few steps. "How you doin', hon?"

"That's Amelia…" I tilted my head.

"Welcome…glad you could join us." He shook her hand, looking bored. "Food ready yet?"

Mom and Alex had composed themselves, of course. "Well, I slowed the process since, um...Gio should be here any minute."

"Fantastic." Dad threw his hands up, and to Amelia he likely looked genuinely happy. "That's wonderful." He left us, going down the hall. "Forget about _the rest of us_ who are starving . . ."

"Edward!" Mom suddenly had a tone.

"Yeah, yeah…" He grumbled from down the hall.

"Geez…What crawled up his butt?" Alex asked.

Mom rolled her eyes. "I mentioned Peto."

I slowly blew out a breath, wanting to follow after Dad.

I was just standing here, and I didn't want to be rude . . .

Then I noticed Amelia didn't have a drink. "Can I get you something to drink?" She was wearing her jacket, too. She must have literally just got here. "Lemme take that for you."

"Thanks." She shrugged out of the waist-length leather jacket. Amelia wore a tight pair of blue jeans and these black boots that reached her thighs, and a plain cotton, long-sleeved shirt that was fitted and matched her footwear.

It was a hot outfit . . . for someone on a motorcycle gang.

It's not what I'm used to seeing broads wear to a family dinner, or what chicks within this circle wear period—it's definitely not what I usually go for personally. I usually end up with the chick wearing the shortest mini-dress.

Today, we were all casual. I'm in jeans, too. Whatever.

Anyway, based on her outfit alone, I could tell she truly was here for Dame.

My mother knows better.

Because, like I said, she coaches these females before they get here.

And I bet Amelia was supposed to seem as though she was interesting, or had an edge.

Because leather jackets do that, and Dame thinks he's an extra from _Grease_. He wears shit like that, too.

_Snort._

Now if Shorty pulled out a mag from her boot and then loaded a nine, I'd come in my pants. As if she was some over-dressed Laura Croft. But none of the women I know are like that.

"What are you ladies drinking?" She was at home with them, which makes my assessment true—even more so.

"The Merlot is on the counter," Mom said.

Amelia awkwardly pointed to the kitchen. "I'll just…help myself?"

I raised a brow at my mother while I hung up her jacket.

"Sonny will fetch it for you." What Mom said made Alex crack up.

"Woof woof…" My aunt slapped her knee.

I wanted to give her one of those reassuring, I-know-what-you-did-with-my-brother-last-night looks, but I didn't.

"Kitchen's right through here." I gestured.

Amelia walked over the threshold just in time for my mother to dry hump the air. "I'm sorry." She was hysterical with laughter.

"I think youse had enough wine."

"Oh…we're just being silly." Mom pouted. "We're not drunk."

I didn't reply, joining Amelia at the counter. "We have other shit, too . . . soda, water, juice—" I opened the fridge.

"I have a driver." She nodded. "I can…drink. Plus, it's Saturday night."

"Do you have any plans?" I asked, going over to grab a wine glass.

"Nope." She popped the 'P' when she said that, and I hate when people do that. "You?"

"I have to shoot by the club later…make an appearance." I poured the Merlot for her.

"And you—" She pointed to me slowly, like she was trying to remember something. "You run the strip club in Midtown?"

"Eclipse." I handed her the glass.

"That must be so cool, on the seedy side and edgy…"

"Not really," I said. "Not Eclipse…it's always been upscale, not like those joints in Jersey—sorry."

"No, by all means…the ones by me are crappy…some have toothless dancers." She made a face. "They're dumps. But of course most places in Manhattan cater to elitists and such." She sipped her wine, and I had no idea if she'd just insulted me. "Since it's 'Manhattan' and all . . ." She uses air quotes and pops her 'P's, and that grated on my nerves.

"Yeah, well . . . If that's your thing, feel free to stop by." I bit my tongue, but then thought, fuck it. "Have a lap dance on me."

The side of her mouth pulled up. "Promise?"

I chuckled to myself, surprised by that response. "Definitely." In my periphery, I saw Dame make a made dash across the doorway—he's probably running to the shower.

"Run, Stinky, run!" Mom shouted.

"What was that?" Amelia pointed.

I shrugged, having no idea how to play that off. "Damion should be around soon . . ."

"Right . . . He's at NYU?"

"Yup . . . and you're…?" I remembered she was pre-med, or something like that.

"Well, I was wait listed at NYU...for the pre med program. I just started my third year of undergrad at Rutgers." She kept her head down.

"Oh...that's cool." I didn't know how to reply, or why she'd feel bad about that.

"I'm studying biology. Honestly, I'm not completely sold yet on med school. It's a lot of work." She sipped her wine. "I'd have to wait a long time to...to do certain things," she spoke into the glass. "You know how it goes...for the girls anyway. Marry her off before she's too old." She trailed off with a giggle, yet neither of us truly found that funny.

"I've heard from my brother, about the heavy course load?" I tried to lighten the mood.

"I'm sorry for that...what I said." She looked sad now.

I decided to ignore that, too. "Regardless of which school, it's a very rigorous program," I said. "University in general...I remember."

"It is." Her eyes widened. "I hardly have any time to do…anything."

"And you stay at the dorms?"

"Nope. I still live at home. You?" She leaned toward me.

Not wanting to be rude, I went into the fridge for a can of Pepsi. "I have my own place."

"Oh, yeah…?" She grasped the soda from me. "Did you want ice?" She took a glass out the dish drainer and continued to serve me.

_Amelia was good . . . Or, should I say, my mother was good._

"I—" I took the Pepsi from her. "I prefer to drink it out the can."

"Oh…" She stared at me. "Do you live in Manhattan?"

"Nope." I made sure not to pop that shit.

And then we both stopped talking.

I usually don't do this—make small talk. Truth be told, besides casual hook-ups—that are no-strings attached—I haven't gone on an actual date in a year. I shoot the shit with my friends, but this chick wasn't my friend. I didn't know her, nor did I care to.

Don't get me wrong. She's gorgeous. Damion's going to trip all over himself—probably make a fool out of himself. She borders on being _too_ pretty, _too_ good to be true, a knockout, a bombshell, but she wasn't here for me.

And all I have to do is hold out for another three months—that's it.

It's simple. I stopped dating when I found out there was a possibility of Katie carrying my child. There was no point in getting close to anyone new. Once that baby is born and it's confirmed that she's my daughter, I'll be getting Katie back.

If it goes the other way . . . I'll lick my wounds and get on with life, but only if that's what Katie wants. I'm at this point where I don't care about anything except getting my girl back. I've wasted the last seven years after our break-up searching for something . . . when I've always known exactly where Katie has been.

I'd love to stage an accident, do some old wild shit, take Raul out…

But then I remember Katie…

And even if she's not with me, even if I want her husband dead, I love her too-fucking-much to make her widow.

A divorcée on the other hand . . .

Maybe that makes me a punk, a pussy—whatever-the-fuck—but that's how it is.

I want her happy even if she's not with me.

"I'm sorry," Amelia said after a couple of minutes. "This is…weird. I know you're keeping me company to be polite, or you have no idea how to excuse yourself…I'll go sit by your mom, and you…do whatever. It's cool. No worries."

I laughed again. "I just—I don't do this." I waved a hand between us.

"What, talk to people? Guests in your parents' home?"

My uncle walked into the kitchen, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Amelia, sweetheart…how are you?" He kissed her cheek. "How's school going?"

"Great, great—"

I waved as I backed out of the kitchen.

Amelia did the same, yet her wave and smile had a sarcastic tone to it? Are people waving sarcastically now? Or was I just that much of a dud?

Regardless, I truly had nowhere else to go. I'm not a teenager anymore, and therefore hiding in my bedroom until the food was served wasn't an option.

I found myself sitting next to my mother on the couch. "What are you doing?" I asked.

She put her glass down. "I love Amelia—"

"Then you date her," I said.

"No," she whispered. "Daddy said that if Damion saw you talking to Amelia, it'd pique his interest—that he'd feel the need to one-up you, or try and steal her away, all that sibling rivalry bullshit."

"Ahhh…Dad's a smart man," I laughed; she was right on the money.

"I'd rather see Amelia with you," Alex whispered.

_This _was the moment I decided to give her that look. "Jealous?"

Her eyes threatened to pop out of her head. "What the hell—"

"I was kidding." I rushed out.

Either way, Alex's smile was gone. "Just…don't leave her alone with him."

"Why not?" Mom's head whipped back to her.

Alex shrugged. "With his presence…it'll be like…it'll turn into a pissing contest between them." She nodded, and that was a very good save. "Sonny could be a buffer."

"That's a good idea." Mom patted my back. "I should check on the ziti." She left us.

When she was out of earshot, I turned to Alex. "What's going on? You all right?"

She gulped, looking around, like someone might hear her.

"Just talk to me," I whispered. "No one's paying attention." The room was empty, the house basically filled with people, and by now I heard my mother speaking to my uncle and Amelia.

"I don't know what you know…Just know nothing happened, and there's nothing going on. I know Dame tells you everything…" She shook her head. "Don't leave Amelia alone with your brother."

My stomach got all queasy. What Dame said was true. He did go too far. "He scared you last night."

She stared down to the carpet, reaching for her glass. "Nothing happened." She finished off her wine.

I placed my hand on her shoulder, and she stared at it. "I'm sorry." I took my hand back. "Tell me what happened, and I'll take care of it." I'd give Damion that beat down he so clearly deserves now—beat him so fucking hard he'll never think about that shit again.

She shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about," Alex said, which is code for, "it happened, but we're going to pretend it didn't".

"Alex . . . tell me what he did," I whispered. "He was drunk as fuck last night. Whatever he did, he didn't mean it. He loves and respects you."

"Respects." She snorted. "Look, I'm a big girl. Just promise me you'll look out for her. Amelia's really sweet, and—God forbid…Like me, she'd never say anything. It's a huge fucking can of worms, Sonny. I mean," she reached to hold the blinged out cross on her neck, "If he disrespects Luke Drasso's daughter . . . smaller group or not, it'd be the same as Kylie being harmed. Can you imagine the downfall? War, people would die on both sides...biggest can of worms ever." She spoke rapidly and in hushed whispers, looking anxious. "We're like kingdoms if you think about it . . . Amelia is the Princess of New Jersey, and - by right - she should be respected as such."

"I don't think he'd step out of line with her..." I honestly wasn't sure, not at this point. On one hand, he might be more scared of her. On the other, did I truly know what that lunatic was capable of?

"Well, you make sure." She patted my forearm. "It's so disappointing. I always thought Dame was sweet, kind...Now I see."

"You hate him."

Alex looked over to me. "Hate's a strong word. He just—he has evil in him. I see that now. Before I married your uncle, I was with this guy for a long time—"

"Mauro." I definitely remembered that shit.

She nodded. "You weren't that little back then . . . But it was like Carlisle saved me, and it took me years to trust your uncle, years to feel protected, years to forget . . . and in one night, a fifteen minute span of time, I was back at a place I swore I'd never visit again. And around your brother no less. My guard was totally down. It's Dame, you know? Maybe what he did do isn't considered that big a deal . . . but what if he didn't stop? He was going in for it, and—"

"I'm so fucking sorry." I gnashed my teeth together, getting angry—fucking livid.

"I wasn't sure what he was going to do, and that scared the shit out of me." She stopped talking.

"Guess you got lucky . . . I'm sorry," I whispered.

"You did nothing wrong, and you might think me dramatic... Just—if he was drunk, you make sure he doesn't drink. I don't know . . . Carlisle!" she shouted for my uncle.

I leaned back, while he came into the living room.

"You bellowed, my love?" he grinned, wearing this cheesy smile.

Alex giggled and sighed, reaching for him. "Just—just sit with me."

"You don't have to ask me twice." He plopped down next to her. "It's so quiet here," he sighed, hugging her close.

"I know…I could just sit here." Alex placed her head on his chest.

And I felt horrible for her, for him. "You guys must be excited to get away?"

"You have no idea." Alex started to cry.

"Oh . . ." Like me, my uncle looked dumbfounded. "What's wrong?"

"I've just missed you—so much, so, so much." She threw her arms around him.

"I'm here." He rubbed her back, looking over to me stunned. "I'm not going anywhere." That seemed to calm her down some.

"We should just go," she said. "You spoke to Edward, right?" She wiped her eyes.

"I did…"

"Then…let's leave. We can pick up something to eat on our way."

Carlisle laughed. "You're that, uh, excited to be alone, huh?" Their conversation morphed into a private one, and I turned my head to give them some semblance of privacy.

"No one would care if we just ducked out." It looked like she was trying to be flirty, but her heart was breaking at the same time. "Just you and me…three days with no interruptions…"

"We should make this a monthly thing. I know I've been working a lot—"

"It's okay," she whispered.

"It's not. I've been…selfish. You know, we'll talk about it later." He kissed her.

I should just march into that bathroom and beat Dame's ass while he's showering. That'd be a new one.

Alex smiled as she pulled away. "We can talk about it now. You go start the car, I'll say goodbye to Bella—"

"Patience, my love . . . We'll eat and then we'll hit the road—beat all the traffic. I get to spend three whole days with you, just you . . . How lucky am I?" he asked me.

"Very." I steepled my fingers, leaning my lips to them as my mind reeled—wondering how far over the line Damion went last night. I prayed to God it truly stopped at a kiss, but he says there was a gun involved. How so? We'd definitely be having another chat. Fuck. I hope she pistol whipped his ass.

Then I was saved from the confines of my mind when Kylie came out. "Gio just called. He's here." She danced around and squealed, only to completely straighten out and stand still when the doorbell rang. "You get it," she told me.

"You're right there." I pointed to her.

"He still can't see me." She peeked into the foyer. "I wanna make an entrance." She fluffed her hair.

"Christ…" I stood up to let Peto in.

"Awww… It's cute," Carlisle said.

"I look okay?" Kylie asked them, pulling on her t-shirt.

"Gorgeous." Alex winked.

In no mood, I trampled down the few steps to open the door. "'Sup?"

He walked in throwing me a chin jerk, just as Kylie stepped out from the hallway. "How ya doin'?" he asked me as he started to take off his jacket.

"Hi." Kylie met him on the steps, reaching for his coat.

"Hey…"

They stared at each other, neither of them moving—just staring with these goofy smiles.

"Hello." There was a knock on the door.

I whipped around to see Katie. "Hey!" I was way too enthusiastic to see her.

She puffed her cheeks. "It takes me a minute, or five, to get out of the car."

I placed my hand on her back to be attentive, ushering her in. She looked gorgeous, wearing a sweater and some jeans, her bump protruding. Okay, so she was more adorable, but gorgeous nonetheless. "Just in time. Dinner's almost ready," I said.

"Oh…I can't stay. I just—"

"I thought I heard Katie!" Mom shouted.

Katie waved.

"Come in, come in. Join us for dinner." Mom smiled wide. "Look at you. I couldn't really see you in that dress yesterday." She gestured to Katie's stomach.

"I'm huge."

"You're gorgeous." I touched her cheek. "Trust me."

Katie shook her head. "I can't stay. I was just dropping Peto off."

"Oh." Mom frowned, going back for the kitchen.

"It's Gio," Peto corrected, leaving with Kylie.

Katie sighed, turning and staring up at me. "Hi."

I pushed her hair behind her ear. "Hi." My hand came back to linger on her cheek. I wanted to kiss it, but people read too much into things. "What's up?"

She looked around, and I did too, to make sure we didn't have an audience. Luckily, they all went about their business. "I—I wanted to talk to you."

"I'm listening," I whispered, the thought of her seeking me out exciting me.

"Can we . . . go somewhere and talk? I don't wanna take you away from your family." She looked down, wringing her hands together. "I'm sorry—we can talk another day."

"It's fine." I took her hands into my own. "We'll go outside."

She nodded, turning and leaving the house.

I followed her all the way out to her car, this beat-up Honda Accord she's had since high school. "This still stalling?" I asked.

"It needs a new alternator." She shrugged.

"I can have my guy look at it. Or—I know you won't let me get you a whip—but you can hold onto my Lexus. It's just sitting in the garage a few blocks away." When Katie wanted to separate herself from our world, she truly did and refused any and all financial assistance her father or I could offer.

"It's fine…I've been saving. We can't trade it in. It's not worth anything. Then we were going to lease an SUV," she grinned, "for when the baby comes…But my dad said something about getting us a minivan as a gift . . . but you know how Raul feels about that—he feels it's charity. It'll be a gift, but then he has to throw my father's job into it . . ." She shook her head. "Because we shouldn't accept blood money to help raise our child…But then who really needs a vehicle in New York City?"

The way she said "we", "us", "baby", and "our" – that whole fucking sentence; I felt like she'd stabbed me.

"Right." I kicked leaves by my feet.

"Things are coming along." She was going to ramble nervously until she finally spit it out. "We're next on the wait list for a two-bedroom at the complex. So, we don't exactly have a nursery to decorate . . . or anything just yet. But we got all this stuff already—"

"Katie…" I didn't want to hear any more.

"Um…" She started digging through her purse. "Did you wanna sit inside the car?"

I shook my head. "I'm good right here. Tell me what's up." I folded my arms across my chest, and I couldn't help but be a little angry.

Everything I'd always wanted was standing two feet from me, yet it might as well have been two thousand miles away—that's how out of reach she was.

"Okay, um." She winced, pulling out a piece of paper. "Remember what you said? About how…you wanted to—that you thought you_ could_ be her father?" Katie dejectedly rubbed her abdomen.

I gritted my teeth, not wanting to have this argument again. "We were fucking up until a month before that stick said you were knocked up."

"Shhh…don't—" She looked back to the house.

"No." I stepped toward her. "You wanna talk about it? Let's talk about it." The only person who might possibly hear us was Amelia's driver. He was too busy reading the paper, paying us no mind. Even so, I just didn't give a fuck. Maybe I wanted it all out in the open.

"I was able to-to, um, have one done."

I blinked, my heart stopped, thudded, and then kept on pumping. "How—" I swallowed.

"They did an amnio . . . I'm young, so one wasn't really needed, but they were able to run tests, too—just to make sure. She's healthy—" She turned away from me, her face crumbling.

"Hey…" I touched her cheek. "Tell, um, just tell me."

"Raul thought he was giving blood and DNA for genetic testing…I borrowed money from my dad…he doesn't know what it was for, but I bribed a nurse at the doctor's office." She sniffled. "I forged all the paperwork."

I pulled her into my arms. "Shhh…please, just tell me." I prepared myself for the blow. "Whatever it says…it'll be okay. Just spit it out."

"It won't," she cried.

It's obvious.

If Raul isn't the father, I am.

And she was so upset.

But then I realized . . .

"It doesn't matter what it says." I blurted. "I love you—always have, always will, and you feel the same . . . just _be_ with me." Leaning my forehead to hers, I stared deeply into her beautiful hazel eyes, hoping she'd know just how serious I was.

"Sonny…" She reached up and palmed my face, making her belly touch me. It was—it was something. It was special in some way. "You know I love you." The side of her mouth turned up into a sad grin.

"I love you, too, baby." My lips barely brushed hers.

She'd turned away. "But—"

"If you want me, be with me, or…put me out of my misery." I was trying not to get upset, not to lose my temper, but this back and forth shit . . . the mixed signals. It's enough to drive the calmest of men crazy.

"I don't care whose kid that is…I love you. I'll love the baby. And if that's your thing we can have as many babies as you want . . . I'll take care of you. You'd want for nothing, and I could love—_finally_ love you the way you should be loved."

She shook her head. "You've always—"

"I'm better now. I'm older, wiser…We've both lived enough to know what we want, and I'm choosing you." Immaturity got in our way back when we were together. Since we've truly been adults, the only things we've shared are intimate encounters.

Katie exhaled, holding her heart, and I waited—waited for her, just like I always do. "You _think_ you want me, but—"

"Us—me and you—it'd be so easy." I spoke over her. "We wouldn't even have to try. We'd just be…" I shrugged, "but you have to tell me . . . Tell me what you want. I can't take it anymore." I poured my heart out, laid it all out there, something I'd never done before.

And I felt exposed, raw—my heart was on the ground, and there was a chance she might step on it.

I was petrified, and yet hopeful in the best way.

"Sonny—" She grasped my hand, her tone apologetic.

"No…Whether or not that's my kid . . . I love you so fucking much, baby." I kissed her temple, nuzzling my nose into her soft hair, and I never wanted her more than I did in this moment. Was it possible to be this scared and turned on at the same time? I needed to be connected to her. "It can be my kid anyway…" I whispered. "We can be a family. Whatever it is . . . we can work it out."

She shook her head, backing away from me. "I'm already married."

I groaned, turning to kick her piece-of-shit car. Then I stared up to the sky, inhaling deeply and holding my head. "He was always just a pawn. You wanted to get away from us," I waved a finger, "and your family. You're married…so fucking what. Seven months ago, that didn't stop you from showing up everywhere: the club, my crib, calling me to come over just to _bump_ you off—"

"I've made mistakes—"

"Mistakes?" I asked in disbelief.

"God will judge me—"

"Do you hear yourself?" I thought that was hilarious, but I didn't dare laugh. "What happened between us were mistakes? My fault? When did I _ever_ pursue you?"

She looked away from me, still crying her eyes out.

"When, Katie? When did I ever _make_ you sleep with me, or_ try_ to get you to cheat on your husband? Oh, wait…they were 'mistakes', right? When did I ever accidently fall into your pussy?" I raised a brow, walking that tightrope between sane and batshit crazy. "If I recall…yeah, the first time you made up some excuse about how he couldn't make you come—you were going out of your mind . . . I'm the bad guy; meanwhile, _ I _did the right thing. _I_ stepped off so _you_ could be happy. It didn't matter what-the-fuck _I _needed . . . So tell me. I mean, my whole life has been all about you, _you_, Katie. Tell me what I should do now."

"Please, stop…I—"

"You wanted Raul. You got him. You wanted to marry him . . . You-fucking-married him, and yet you still kept fucking with my head. Just tell me… what do you want from me?!"

"I'm sorry." She leaned onto the car.

I closed my eyes, wincing, cringing, and holding my breath.

"Sonny," she whispered.

"Just tell me what the paper says…"

Her shaking hands unfolded it, and she showed me. "Raul's DNA didn't match. She's—she's yours," Katie sobbed. "She has to be . . . if she's not his."

"What?" I stared down at her.

Her face crumbled again, and then she cried into her hands. "I can't do this—" She went to back away. "I thought I could, but…"

"Fuck that." I grabbed onto her arm. "You don't get to do this," I said. "You don't get to come here, drop that bomb, and leave—no fucking way."

"I've—I found out last month."

"And this is the first I'm hearing about it?" I couldn't believe her, the nerve of her for keeping this from me, but then I realized something. "She's mine?" I nodded, tears pricking my eyes. "I'm—I'm go-going to be a dad?"

Katie cried quietly, refusing to look at me.

"This is—it's amazing." I touched her stomach, palming it with both my hands as I got down to my knees. "She's mine." I kissed her, my heart swelling. Getting the news I'd been desperate to hear was music to my ears.

Katie placed her hands on mine, pushing me away. "I, um, I wanted to settle this before she was born…Seeing you all—seeing you at the party…I just…The way you looked at me when I said it was a girl…You looked so hopeful." She covered her face again. "You love me so much . . . It's overwhelming. It's always been."

"I do…I'm crazy about you." I pulled her to me. "It'll be fine. I'm sure our parents will be shocked, but…it'll work out, and who cares what they have to say anyway. You and me…we can get a house before she's born. Your divorce will be final by then…_We_ can _finally_ get married." I beamed up at her as tears fell down my cheeks.

"Oh, Sonny…" she whimpered.

"What is it?" I wiped my eyes. "That's just off the top of my head…We can do whatever—we can do it whichever way you want. Just talk to me."

"You don't want a kid!" She tried to let go of my hand, but I wouldn't let her. "You can't leave the clubs, or the women…all that stuff. You're always on the move, always going out of town. And I—"

I dropped her hand, getting to my feet quickly. "You—" I couldn't even get the words out because… "You want Raul."

She let out a wail, collapsing against her car. "I'm so sorry—"

Regardless of how hurt I was, one fact remained true. "That's MY daughter. You're insane if you think you can keep her away from me . . . Another man isn't going to get you _and_ MY. FUCKING. KID!"

"Please…"

I started to pace. I needed to do something with my body or else I'd explode. Literally, I'd crumple into a million tiny pieces—a mess for the street sweeper. I had to keep moving. "How could you do this? How could you constantly keep me at arm's reach for all these. FUCKING. YEARS?!"

"I'm sorry."

I whipped around to face her. "You don't get to be sorry." I grabbed onto her arms. "You selfish fucking bitch! You don't get to do this—play me like a fucking fiddle." She fought against me, and I tried to hold her still—she'd run from me if I didn't. "When that baby's born…you and the baby…you're mine! You fucking hear me!" My nose was practically touching her cheek, screaming in her face. "Do you understand? I'm sure I don't have to tell you . . . That's my kid." I thought better. "You know what? _You_ can do what you want…but that's _my_ child. Stay married to Raul—"

"No!" She tried to push me.

I blocked her. "Overall, he's a nice guy," my tone was hushed, "I'd hate—fucking hate to see something happen to him."

She stopped squirming, slowly turning to lock eyes with me. "You wouldn't—Sonny, you can't. It's not his fault."

"Then get rid of him yourself." I eased up, alleviating the pressure with which I was holding her without letting her go. "Or give me full custody. Either way, I'm her father." I touched her stomach.

She tried to cringe away. "You're scaring me."

Seeing her cry tears for fear, I realized what a monster I'd become. The anger ebbed, a feeling of immense sadness replacing it. A hurt I couldn't describe.

"You're—I'm scaring me, too." My face crumbled for the briefest of seconds. "No…you don't get to do this to me—"

"Sonny…please. I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I can't be who you want me to be…you don't want me."

"Yes, I do!" I shouted, hugging her to me tightly.

"Let go of me!"

I did.

I backed away from her, afraid I'd do something I'd regret. The anger, the sadness, the frustration: they all kept flooding me with hard waves. To my surprise, I was still on my feet. "Was _any_ of it real? Or was I just a good fuck?"

"Don't say that—"

"Why not?!" I screamed, a million unanswered questions popping up in my brain. "Does he know?"

She shook her head.

I smiled, nodding my head. "He will. Soon enough . . . he'll know."

"Oh my God . . ." She slowly shook her head. "I just—I wanted to put your mind at ease. Can't you understand? There's a chance Raul might never know. I only had the test done because you—"

"Because you sure as fuck were having one when the baby was born. I was going to make sure of it—even if I had to get the courts involved. That's how much I want this—you, the baby. But_ you_ don't want me, which just makes me look like a fool." I must have looked like the dumbest fuck on the planet—standing in the street, crying my eyes out, practically fucking begging. "I'm not doing this anymore. You don't want me, fine…but what I said before still goes." I tried to calm myself down. "Katie, you and me-" I waved a finger between us, "we're done—whatever we are…it's over."

"I'm doing you a favor. I'll tell Raul—I-I-I don't care. It's not his fault. You can't hurt him." She sobbed into her hands, inhaling deeply to stare at me. "This is my child, and I'm going to raise her. I came here because—I wanted to put your mind at ease, like I said. I can do this on my own . . . I'm giving you an out."

"I don't want one! What are you fucking stupid?" I couldn't believe any of this.

"I know you want to do the right thing—"

"It's _never_ been about the right thing…I've loved you since…Katie, I can't even remember…I've just always." I was crying again, frustrated, heartbroken—just broken. "How—"

"I love you, too."

I looked up to the sky again, exasperated. "Then why—"

"Sonny, you think you want this, but you don't…" Her lip quivered. "And I refuse—re-fucking-fuse to turn into one of those goomba housewives, while you're out doing whatever-the-fuck!" she shouted at me. "You're not going to stop. It'll be fun for a little while, but you'll get bored, and then you'll move on. I know you…You want me to be something I can't be…And I want you so much." She paused, shoulders slumping.

Katie reached for me, but I refused to take her hand. "Sonny…I love you so much it hurts…it hurts me…our love overwhelms me, and I can't think straight. I made a mistake…I'll admit, I should have never gotten married, but I can't be your wife. I can't—I can't be married to you _and_ the thing! I can't be your bed warmer, while you're—"

"How can you say that?" I shook my head. "When did I ever do you dirty?" Throughout our whole relationship—when we were together—she was the only woman I was with. "When I'm committed, I'm loyal. When I'm single, I-fucking-mingle, and it's only because _you_ aren't available." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "I was never bored with you. You're just looking for excuses because you're scared, because now we have a shot, we could really go for it…and you don't even wanna try. What's your true reluctance?"

She didn't reply.

I nodded. "You've spent your whole life running from this, from Brooklyn, from your family…but have you ever stopped to take a look around? Look at all the happy marriages around you . . . You believe some concept, some bullshit your lunatic mother ingrained into your brain. You make assumptions, you judge_ me_; meanwhile…" It was a low blow to throw all our encounters while she's been Mrs. Sanchez in her face.

"I fucking hate you!"

I shrugged, slapping my hands down on my thighs in exasperation.

"You think I don't know about you—sleeping around, bed-hopping?" She stepped closer, and I was sure she'd swing at me. "How you just fucked that girl last night in the bathroom? Then you just tossed her away like garbage. Was she even eighteen? Oh, and I can't forget the chick you came with. The stripper?"

"She's not a stripper," I said.

"How the fuck do you keep track of all of them? I'm having a hard time." The fire in her eyes drew me closer to her, when I should be backing away.

"How'd you know—"

"Oh, please. She was giggling with her friends ten minutes later—how she bagged the great Santino Cullen. Why someone would be so proud to be a notch in your belt is beyond me." She looked at me with disgust.

"Yesterday, hell, right now? I'm fucking single until you say otherwise. I make no apologies for the shit I've done. If we were together—"

"Save it." She scoffed.

"If we were together, I'd have everything—I'd have everything I need in you." I placed my hand over her heart.

She pushed me away. "You think I'm an idiot?"

I snorted without humor. "And me, bed-hopping? Me?" I pointed to myself. "You'd go from mine to his . . . Did'ju think of me every time _he_ was hitting _you_ off?"

And I got the slap across my face, the one I'd been waiting for. "You're a fucking man-whore! And you expect me to believe that you'd stop, like that?" She snapped her fingers.

Little did she know sleeping around was like an anesthetic for me—that whole: if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with. I did what I could to dull the ache.

"The late hours, the worrying—"

"Again, bullshit your mother has told you. I'm sure there'll be late nights. I'm sure there'll be times you'll worry. But my heart, me—_I'd_ be all yours."

She set her jaw, squaring it and turning away. "I can't trust you—not this you, not this version of the Sonny I fell in love with." The tears were back. "You're totally different."

"You saying you can't trust me because of _me_, or because of my occupation? Because of what you _think_ guys like me do?" I raised a brow. "If you love me—fuck!" I kicked her tire.

"Because—" She started.

"Why should I even bother?" I found myself laughing. "The way I see it now…" Suddenly flippant and a whole new level of angry, I backed away from her. "Now I have three months to get my shit together. I have three months to do what I gotta do . . . because during custody battles? They're going to dig on both sides." I wiped my hands clean. "You can't prove a fucking thing…I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear from you. You and me? We're done. I'll see you in court, when I can pick up my child. You better borrow some more money from Daddy for a decent lawyer. 'Cause I sure as fuck will have a team of my own."

"Don't!"

I turned, going back toward the house.

"Sonny!"

I needed my keys, so that I could beat her home—come clean to her husband.

With so much hate in my heart, I hoped he'd kick her out on her ass.

And when she'd show up at my apartment, I'd ignore the bell.

Fuck this. She'd done enough shit to me—fucked with me all my life. She can do whatever she wants—stay with Raul, or not, but I'll take my chance in court, try my hardest for half or full custody. I'm not completely irrational. Angry as hell, I still knew that I'd never be able to just kidnap my own child—do that to her, as much as I wanted to hate her.

"Sonny, please. You doing this—severing all ties with me? You can't do it—"

"Watch me." There was nothing left to be said.

She played enough games, fucked with me…

"You know how much I love you. I can't live without you in my life." She tried to grab my hands, and I pulled them away.

"Don't touch me. You can't be my wife; you won't let me be a father. Get the fuck away from me! Step off—get in your car and go."

"…I want to be with you, but—"

That caught my attention. "But what?"

She slowly shook her head, tears in her eyes, swallowing, like she didn't want to say anything.

"Fine." I ran into the house, slamming the door closed in her face.

Mom, Dad, Damion, and my uncle were all in the foyer, while the rest stood at the top of the stairs. I was sure—by their blank faces and the tears in my mother's eyes—that they heard most, if not all, of our argument.

"Sonny..." Dad reached for me.

I shrugged his arm off, running up the stairs. "I gotta go."

"Wait a fucking minute!" He ran after me. I heard his feet stomping, which only made me run into my childhood bedroom faster.

I slammed _that_ door, just like so many times before.

Then I paused, looking around for my keys.

My childhood—everything in this room had Katie on it, reminded me of her. It was like I kept this place as a shrine to her, a place I could think about her. We'd fucked—at one time or another—on every piece of furniture in the room. Fuck, our daughter could have been conceived on that bed, when we'd snuck in a quickie on Good Friday.

Easter came early this year, and I didn't have a condom.

"Sonny?" It was Damion. "Bro, let me in."

"Fuck off!" I spat, wondering if I was going to live in here before I grasped my keys from the nightstand.

"Hey…" It was Dad now. "Just—"

I opened the door, refusing to look at any of their faces, sure that mine was tear-stained. "I gotta go."

"You're not going anywhere." Dad blocked my escape, and that fucker Damion grabbed onto my arms from behind.

"Let go!" I was able to get free of my brother, but Dad was still walking backward as I advanced.

My father got in my face. "Stop, or I'll fucking lay you out right here!"

I groaned, trying to sidestep him, but he just moved with me. "Get out of my way—"

"I need you to calm down." He placed his hand on my chest.

Gritting my teeth, I steeled myself and pushed past him. We had a little scuffle. No punches were thrown; he just wouldn't get off me.

"I love him. Bella, I love him…so much—" I heard Katie crying somewhere. "He can't leave me…I just—I don't know what to do."

I paused, my chest heaving.

"You gonna act right?" Dad asked.

"I love him—"

"Fuck you!" I shouted.

Like the Hulk, I just pushed, sprinted down the hall, while I felt Dad and Dame pulling me back. "Don't you dare fucking lie to my mother's face. You lied enough to me…you love me? You can't live without me? Since fucking when? You probably used me to get pregnant; since your husband couldn't…then you come here to tell me shit, all to say you don't want me? For what? Fuck you!" I was shouting at the top of my lungs.

My words compulsory—my blood boiling, my muscles coiling, ready to spring.

Those words made her cry harder; meanwhile, Mom and Peto were consoling her in the foyer. "Get out! Get the fuck out of my life!" I needed to be free of the sight of her.

"Sonny…please," Mom cried.

And seeing her tears . . . the both them crying huddled together.

"I have to leave. I gotta go—" I stopped, showing them my calm hands, wanting Dad and Dame to let me go, while I had my uncle to my side.

"Just take a minute." Carlisle touched my shoulder, and I instinctually threw my fist out.

"Stop!" Dad caught my arm, and then stood in my way. "You're not going anywhere like this—neither of you." He said it loud enough for Katie to hear. "C, call Aro—"

"No!" Katie shouted.

I massaged my forehead. "The whole family's getting involved now?" I made fists with both my hands, needing everyone to back-the-fuck-away from me. I needed to hit something—I was about to burst.

"Sonny, please." Katie tried to push past my mother. "Please, let me talk." She actually got down onto her knees.

"Shhh." Mom was a mess, trying to wipe her tears away. "You being this upset is no good. Relax." She hugged onto her.

I looked away—couldn't look at them anymore. "I'm fine. I just—"

"No, Sonny—don't go." Katie eased out of Mom's hold. "I'm begging you…please, baby. Please!" The desperation in her voice…it was enough to bring me to my knees. "Please…Please." It didn't even sound like a word anymore.

But she's probably fucking with me again.

"Sonny . . ." She fell back, sitting on her ass, her body rocking with sobs, and everyone else was quiet—no one said a word. I'd realized I'd stopped fighting against them. My chest still heaved, but I was numb—stunned, paralyzed, and couldn't move. Then my vision blurred and the tears spilled. "Just talk to me, hear me out…I'll leave my husband. I could never love him the way I love you. I just—I just—" She broke down.

"Oh, Katie…" Mom got onto the floor to hold her. "It's gonna be all right," she crooned. "Deep breaths."

Katie let out a wail; one so loud and pain-filled, I could feel it—if that was possible. "I'm scared…You can't leave me." It came out strangled.

"Shhh…It's going to be okay," Mom said. "Sonny's right there. He's not going anywhere."

Carlisle gently squeezed my hand, and the contact woke me up in some way.

"Sonny…" she cried into my mother's hair.

I swallowed, my throat thick, before I took that first step—the first step toward my future. "I'm here." I rasped, slowly going down the stairs. "Come on."

My mother let go, and I gathered Katie into my arms.

"Sonny…" She clawed at me.

"I'm here." I kissed her hair as I started to rock us. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you." She kissed me and cried into my mouth, a sobbing mess.

"I love you, too."

"You can't—" She hugged me tightly. "You—"

"I'm not going anywhere," I said.

* * *

**Whew . . . You guys okay? *hands out some tissues***

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts.**


	11. Change of Pace

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**WOW! Your reviews for chapter ten totally blew me away. Thank you so much for all your kinds words of encouragement! This is part one of a two-parter, it's on the lighter side, something to help you all digest chapter 10. Part Two will be posted on Wednesday . . . and that's when it'll get heavy :-)we'll learn more about Dame . ..**

**Enjoy!**

**THANK YOU!**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Eleven: Change of Pace Part One**

**Damion POV**

**W**ithin a weekend's time frame, this house was turned upside down—a far cry from the way things were last week.

Sonny's life was now different as night and day. Whether they get married or not, he's going to be a father, which means he has to settle down. Everything is still up in the air, but it was obvious that their happy ending was now in sight.

When they were outside, Dad heard them shouting and was about to go out there before Mom stopped him. Apparently, this "had to happen". Their argument, although we had no idea what it was about at first, had to play out.

We're all nosy fuckers who studied their every move, scrutinized every word. Sonny made some great points, but then Katie did, too. They have love, but they haven't been together in so long. Nowadays, they're two totally different people. I know they met up to fuck on occasion, but they haven't spent any real time together during the past seven years.

And seven years . . . that's a long fucking time.

Did they even know each other anymore? Or were they holding on to this idea of their love?

I bet Sonny takes the bar exam now . . . grows-the-fuck up and leaves Eclipse behind. But I wondered how long he'd be able to keep that up . . . Like I said, Katie made a few good points.

My guess is that she's afraid of turning into my mother, or worse, her own.

They have love and a shitload to work on; however, I was sure they'd be okay . . . in the long run.

I might be a cynical prick, but I'll give Sonny a year—of being home all the time, working a real nine-to-five, changing diapers, and just being on the up-and-up—or pretending like he is.

All that shit's gotta be hard to walk away from. I know it'll be difficult for me, the little bit I am involved, which just includes chillin' at the clubs some nights—and that other shit that I'm trying to push out my mind.

I do wish them the best, though.

_Fingers crossed . . . _

An hour ago, when Aro showed up, he was informed—seemed a bit shocked at first, and then he stunned us all by pulling Sonny into this tight embrace.

My mother can't control her tears. She just keeps crying—stating they're happy tears. Sure, finding out you're about to be a grandparent is surprising. I guess the circumstances . . . I don't even know. I do know that the whole situation will work out.

Combined, the decisions my siblings have made, although big and small, have altered this family as a whole—it's a huge contrast compared to the way things were.

It baffled me how one weekend, a not-even-forty-eight-hour stint, could be so powerful—significant.

The only person to remain unfazed was me. Deep down, I'd experienced a multitude of emotions. This weekend, I'd been: happy, sad, excited, ashamed, and reproachful. But mostly, I was ashamed and mortified at myself—no matter how I tried to hide it. That shit with Alex really fucked with my head.

Did I really do all that? I know I did and I was apologetic, but…

Believe it or not, although Dad didn't know the whole story and didn't give me any concrete advice, just talking—brushing up on the subject with him was cathartic in a way. I felt a little bit better—to have bared my sins—but the relief was minimal.

Despite that whole clusterfuck with Sonny and Katie, most of us managed to sit and eat—we had dinner while they went into his room to "talk". Knowing my brother, they spoke for five minutes before they started fucking. That's beside the point, but true.

In fact, I was still at the table—wishing and hoping I'd get a moment alone with Alex somehow before they left. My father, Aro, and Carlisle had all excused themselves to his office. Laughter and voices keep sounding down the hall, so they must be fine with how things panned out.

My mother and Alex were cleaning up—going between the dining room and the kitchen.

I don't know where that fucker Peto is, not that I give a fuck, but he's probably drooling over my sister somewhere . . . happy the attention isn't on him anymore.

Amelia—who I haven't spoken a single word to—is still sitting, playing on her cell phone.

I knew I was being a rude fuck, but my cell proved to be something to occupy my mind as well. I played Angry Birds, stuffed my face, and ignored call after call from an unknown number. It wasn't blocked. I just didn't recognize it, and the person refused to leave a message.

"What level are you up to?" Amelia asked. "I can hear the slingshot."

That made me crack a grin. "Um, I'm at fourteen-three."

She was a fucking knockout and a half, in painted-on jeans and an equally fitted shirt. Those boots—I love boots, and I'd love them even more on either side of my ears. I'd hold her ankles straight up in the air, yet pull her legs apart to expose her—so I could see all of her.

Amelia had a gorgeous face, and I hated that I was this stuck—that I didn't know how to act around her. She made me nervous.

She had these high cheekbones, and yet her cheeks were on the chubby side. I wanted to bite them. Her teeth were perfect, too. Her lips—fuck—she had sweetheart lips; meanwhile, they were thin despite being full.

Never in my life had I seen a chick as pretty, as perfect, as this one.

I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell, but such is life.

She seemed go with the flow—didn't run away when shit got hot earlier.

_I bet we look like a bunch of nut jobs to her. _

Speaking of, I thought about Maggie a lot today. When I first woke up, I thought I'd dreamed her—made her up, that I was walking around and sitting in the grass with a figment of my imagination—an angel.

There was no way we could evolve, be more than whatever that was last night, but that didn't stop me from wanting to see her.

I really just wanted to kiss her—be her first kiss.

I bet without the alcohol freeing her inhibitions, she'd slap me.

Last night, she resembled a woman. At the moment, if memory serves me right, she was more of a girl. . . innocence shining and all, regardless of if she had a body.

Maggie was too young for me, but she was another fuckhot female to haunt me nonetheless.

Between Bianca, Maggie, and now Amelia, I had an array of images stored in the spank bank.

I highly doubted I'd be masturbating to Alex any time soon.

"How's school going for you?" Amelia whispered.

"Well . . . so far so good. Thank you for asking." I decided to try that gentleman shit again. Sober, I could keep up with it and not let my impulses get the better of me.

"Mom?" Kylie caught up with our mother just as she grabbed the salt from the table.

"Yeah, baby?" Mom filled her arms with random things.

I stood up to help at the same time Amelia did. "Sit," I blurted.

Amelia did as I said, handing me her water glass, which was pretty fucking cool.

_What other commands would she obey?_

"Since it's still early . . . Gio was talking about going to the movies. Would that be okay?" Kylie asked.

I felt bad that she had to do so as I entered the kitchen. With Kylie and Mom speaking in the dining room, that left Alex at the sink—cleaning what didn't fit in the dishwasher.

It was weird because she knew I was there. As soon as I stepped into the room, she stiffened and briefly glanced back to me.

"Hey…" I placed the glass and my plate in the sink.

"Just don't." She continued to wash, her hands full of suds.

"I know you won't believe me, but I'm sorry—truly sorry." I gulped, my heart hammering away. "I don't know what happened." I gently pulled on her sleeve to get her to look at me.

Alex refused, or couldn't. "Please don't touch me." Her voice wasn't above a whisper. She thought she was slick, too—gripping a steak knife in her hand, like I was going to do something.

How fucking dramatic? I thought.

All of them, every-fucking-one of them with the theatrics . . .

Someone should have sent Kylie for violin lessons. We would have background music.

Before with Sonny and Katie, too. That shit didn't have to blow up the way it did, and what did Alex think I was going to do? Throw her down and fuck her on my mother's kitchen floor? Sure, things got crazy last night, but did she truly fear me? I found that hard to believe—her trying to be this victim.

"Put that down." My hand softly ran along her forearm, giving her hand a squeeze. "Let it go." Voice stern as fuck, that still didn't stop me from sniffing her hair. She uses Pantene and I love that shit—I use it, too.

Alex dropped the sponge and the knife, backing away from the sink. "I'm not doing this—not here, not now."

"I need you to believe how sorry I am." Only, this little scene—her with the knife—confused me. I wasn't sure if I should be beating myself up the way I had been.

Fuck it, right?

"Somehow . . . I can't." She shrugged, turning and leaving the room.

My head whipped back and forth, trying to gauge the amount of time I'd have to catch up to her. But in the long run, I just let her go—I didn't want to scare her any more than I had.

I'll be sure to stop by during the week, when we can really talk. My uncle won't be there. It won't be questionable because it'll be light out.

_I'll bring her some flowers…_

When I saw their shadows and heard their voices get louder, I turned to the sink, picked up where Alex left off.

"Thank you, baby." Mom kissed my cheek.

I smirked, continuing to wash the plate.

"Suck-up." Kylie hit my arm.

I didn't acknowledge them, content to do the menial task.

But I'm a suck-up for washing a fucking plate? Kylie is such a goddamn brat.

My hands slowed as more people entered the kitchen. With my back to all of them, I heard Carlisle and Alex leave. Aro was going with Katie _and _Sonny—they were going to sit Raul down—while they all had a chat. That was when I wanted to turn around. I wanted to say that I'd go along, too—have Sonny's back just in case, be there for moral support—but he truly didn't need me there.

Mom made a comment that no one else was supposed to hear, but I did. She said it was good that Dad wasn't going along, and I knew what she meant.

Aro would keep everyone calm, but Dad might inadvertently escalate the situation—lean on Raul a bit if he stepped out of line or insulted Sonny. He wouldn't mean to. It would just happen. And I can't imagine how tensions wouldn't be high—telling Raul his wife's baby is Sonny's.

Jesus.

_This fucking family sometimes . . . _

"So…can one of you call Vito?" Kylie was the last person standing besides my parents and I, and I'm pretty sure they forgot all about Amelia in the dining room. "Or…can Gio borrow your car? He left his in Texas, obviously."

My father laughed at her.

"He's a really good driver—"

Dad composed himself. "I shouldn't let you go anywhere after last night."

"Edward." Mom.

"I'm gonna be nineteen in—"

"I know how old you are. Your age isn't the point. You couldn't call, send a text—nothing to let us know you were all right?" Whether Dad was upset with her or not, he hugged her to his side.

My sister looked like she was on the verge of throwing a tantrum, yet trying to stay calm—placate our father. It was a smart move. "The movie starts in a hour and a half, but we should get there early—opening weekend. We'll go, see the movie, drop Gio off at—" She looked around. "It might be weird at Katie's . . . She might end up at Sonny's anyway. Can he stay over?" She smiled sweetly.

Dad threw his head back and laughed, his humor contagious as I also had a chuckle. "He can stay at his father's house." Dad shrugged. "Peto has like three places to stay…but this house isn't one of them."

"Edward." Mom had a tone. "What he means is…we'd never let Peto sleep on the street or whatever. But he does have places to stay, and I'm sure his father would love to spend some time with him, too—"

"But he's leaving tomorrow night." Kylie stomped her foot. "And I won't get to see him until—"

"Thanksgiving? That's next month." Dad left the embrace to open the fridge. "We having dessert, or…?" He looked to my mother.

"Mom!" Kylie demanded her attention as well, but she looked to me.

Mom took slow steps toward me with this goofy grin. "Why don't you drive them?" She wrapped her arms around my arm, resting her head on my shoulder. "You can take Amelia," she whispered. "Like a double date."

Kylie gasped. "That'd be better than Vito—having some old guy tag us." She knew I'd just drop them off and not give a fuck. I'd make sure she was safe, but they suffocate Kylie, too—I sympathize, and therefore give her space.

"That's not a bad idea." Dad placed a bakery box on the counter.

I shrugged, reaching for the dishrag to dry my hands.

"Go ask her," Mom urged.

"What are we going to see?" I asked.

"The new Zac Efron movie? It's supposed to be action-packed—Gio says it's gonna be good." Kylie had stars in her eyes.

"She told me she thought you were really handsome." Mom whispered, pushing my hair back, while I looked down to my clothes. After I showered, I put jeans and a sweater on—nothing special—but then how dressed up did I need to be for the movies?

"Yeah…okay." A girl like Amelia would never—I'd never have a shot. Then I thought about shots—taking a few.

For a couple of minutes last night, I was charismatic.

I'm driving.

_Fuck. _

"Well, you are—my handsome boy." Mom pinched my cheek. "Please ask her? For me?"

I thought about it.

"At least talk to her." She suddenly looked exasperated. "She's interested, I promise."

Dad raised a brow, bringing a glass of wine to his lips. "Go for it," he said. "You have nothing to lose . . . Or," he smirked, looking around, "do whatever you usually do. You got this either way." He took a few steps toward me to bring his voice down. "I know you don't work for pussy—don't start now."

I laughed, giving him a fist pound.

Little does he know it's because I am shy.

"Edward!" Mom slapped his bicep, and then stared up at me. "Go talk to her. Work for it." She nodded a little too eagerly.

"You guys are so gross." Kylie truly did look like she was about to vomit.

I opened my mouth to respond when Amelia appeared in the doorway.

_Jesus Christ. _

She's beautiful. The full sight of her—not like those peeks through my periphery at the table—made my stomach fill with butterflies.

"Sorry. It was getting lonely in there." She jerked a thumb, meeting my gaze before putting her head down.

"Hey…" Kylie sidled up to her, which meant she had my sister's approval along with my mother's. "Gio and I—we're going to the movies. Dame's coming, too. Did you wanna join us?"

Amelia's eyes landed on me. "Oh, well, um—"

Mom pinched my forearm so hard, I nearly jumped out of my skin. "I'd appreciate the company." I spoke up. "I have to drive them." I smiled, while Mom continued to dig her nails into my arm—now she was excited.

"Pietro's been waiting…" She trailed off, talking about her driver. I met him briefly when I went outside to smoke a cigarette. He asked me if everything was okay, having witnessed the whole Katie/Sonny debacle.

"If he has some place to be…we'll get you home—have someone drive you." Dad had a mouthful of chocolate cake. "I'll call your father."

And I felt horrible, that everyone was putting so much pressure on Amelia. It was obvious the problem was me—not her ride home. I wished I'd spoken to her during dinner, or at least brushed my hand someplace on her body while I passed the _au gratin_.

The latter is more my style.

"It's fine." Amelia waved it off. "I'd love to join you."

"Excellent." Kylie hugged her, which surprised Amelia.

"Oh…Okay." She patted my sister's arm.

I internally groaned, thinking about sitting through a two-hour movie, and wanting to go to sleep.

Before, I couldn't wait for everyone to leave. I'll be going back to campus tomorrow, and then it's back to the grind. Plus, all day I had this lingering headache—one that Advil, weed, and a small amount of alcohol couldn't cure—that was from much earlier. "Whose car am I taking?"

"Mine." Mom rummaged through her purse, and I saw she had some Motrin. "You guys will have room." She jiggled the keys.

I took them from her. "Uh, let me get two of those." I pursed my lips to the ibuprofen.

She took two out of the bottle, and I tossed them back dry. "I'll be outside. Let me know when you guys are ready." Everything was in my pocket, and I didn't need a jacket with the sweater.

Dad followed after me, all the way down to the garage. Since he usually wouldn't do that, I figured he wanted to chat. I felt his eyes on the back of my head the whole time, too. Fuck.

"I'll keep an eye on her. No worries," I said, lighting a cigarette.

He opened the large garage door. "I know you'd die for her…"

"Always with the drama…Who's dying?"

"I'm just saying."

I gave him a slight nod, taking a drag. When the door was fully opened, I stood in it—looking up to the moon.

It was just as beautiful as last night—clear skies and all.

"Your brother told me to give this to you." He handed me a piece of paper.

I slowly opened it. "What is it?" The lettering was all bubbled, hearts on the "I"s, and some doodles.

"It's a love note from your little boo-boo." Dad smiled. "It's cute."

"You read it?" I asked, not surprised. If I need a small lesson in boundaries, my father needs a semester's worth of classes on that shit.

He nodded. "Do I have to tell you to stay away from her? This won't be an argument, will it?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

He grimaced. "Why do you say it like that? No_p_ee…"

I shrugged, having no idea what he was talking about. "Why do you and everyone else pick on me?" It kind of just flew out of my mouth. "Even the small things."

"Oh, come on. No one means anything with the crap they say—the teasing. You know we all love you."

"Right." I snorted.

"Let her down gently." He tapped the paper.

My lips drew a tight line. "It wasn't anything like that. We just chilled." I folded it back up. "For real . . . We didn't kiss—nothing," I lied.

The whole experience will be stored away for later usage, only . . . I'd insert Amelia where Maggie was. Amelia's prettier—no need to lie about that—and thinking about Amelia would insure that I wouldn't go after Maggie.

"I also don't—_shouldn't_ have to tell you to behave yourself." He stared me down. "She's Luke's daughter. This goes bad—" He whistled. "I don't even wanna think about it. If you have no interest in actually dating her, don't even bother with a kiss. Things are screwy with broads—shit that don't mean nothing to us, sometimes mean a lot more to them; they read into things. Bottom line, you're to be a gentleman."

I nodded. "Of course."

"If you two hit it off, though." He smiled. "That'd mean a lot—business-wise. But don't think about that just yet." He placed his arm over my shoulders. "I didn't get married until I was twenty-five, but I dated. You haven't done shit. You need to live—"

"Dated?" I remember he said some bullshit about that before.

"Yeah, whatever. Gimme a stoge." I handed him my pack of cigarettes and stood silent while he lit one. "I know you wanna get married—is it so you can have a steady piece of ass?" he spluttered, finding it amusing. "Lemme tell you a secret. Your uncle and I got lucky—with your mother and Alex—they're little sexpots. I heard that about your aunt anyway, but I know 'bout Mom." It was weird that he brought Alex up in the conversation. He hardly ever speaks of her. "But from what I hear, most people had more sex while they were single."

I had no reply to that, because settling down to me meant a lot more than just sex. A meaningful connection, finding out what the love hoopla was about—that's the shit I want. Everyone I've ever known who's been in love was extremely happy—I wanted that. I'm content now, but I wanted _all_ of that—and I can barely explain what love means. I know it's a feeling—one I yearn for.

"I swore I'd never get married." He pulled from the smoke. "Things change when you meet that special one. Meeting your mother—that shit shocked me for the better . . . I hope you find her—it'd be amazing if it turned out to be Amelia. You know? New York and New Jersey, getting together, sort of merging." His last sentence was rushed, like an afterthought.

"Who'd benefit more?" I asked, plain and simple.

"I'm unofficial boss of both states. He'd likely reap from that, but there's many perks for me as well—more money, more bodies at our disposal, and so on. The chances of us going to war again would be close to zero. But I'm not supposed to be discussing this with you. Your mother feels it'll pressure you; meanwhile, this was her idea."

"'K." I flicked the cigarette butt into the street, having no true thoughts about what he said. We hit it off, we hit it off. I didn't want to get my hopes up—that the pretty girl from across the bay would fall in love with me.

"Can I say one more thing? Only because I've thought a lot about it this afternoon, and maybe this—what I have to say will make me a piece-of-shit."

I gestured for him to continue.

"All the stuff I said before, about you working for me?"

I nodded.

"You and Amelia get married…I'd take that off the table. I'd also give you and your bride three million dollars, youse buy a house, start your lives . . . My only stipulation," he placed his hand on his chest, "youse stay in New York. You do your residency here in New York. Kylie going away for school is one thing . . . It'd kill your mother if you _literally_ moved. You and Amelia wanna be doctors—be doctors together, choose whatever specialty you wish. With the money, youse can start your own practice—have the means to right away. You could even move upstate if you wanted to, but you stay within the state."

"Is . . . are you bribing me?" I whispered, and what he said didn't bother me at all, didn't make him a piece-of-shit in my eyes either. It sounded like a sweet deal. "'Cause . . . I can't _make_ her fall in love with me."

"You can . . . but there's no pressure."

"That's impossible." I shook my head.

"You're observant and a decent actor—be the guy of her dreams."

Now I stared at him like he'd grown three heads.

"I'm just saying . . . If you can't or don't fall in love with her, forget about it. I don't want that for you. In the long run, you two would be miserable, and it's not a bribe. It's incentive—to get you to open up and try. I'm sure Luke will be donating to that marriage as well—he'll match me if I tell him to." He lifted his hands. "Regardless, you're to be a gentleman." Dad gave me this weird look as he said it again. "Don't step out of line, no is no—"

"I know that." As soon as he said that, my stomach rolled with nausea. "I'm not an animal. I'm not drunk either . . ."

"Movies, popcorn, small talk – that's what I hear first dates are all about. You can handle that, right?" He patted my back.

"Shouldn't be too hard." He'd never understand if I told him that it was—that it would be difficult. "I doubt she's really interested." I stuffed that note into my pocket, totally forgot that I was still holding it. "I bet she's just going along with Mom for the sake of doing so, or her father is pressuring her."

"She's interested," he said. "They're already planning the wedding . . . in their heads anyway."

"Stop." Now he was being ridiculous. "I can see you offering what you are . . . but most people wouldn't—put a price on their daughter's head or whatever."

"You'd be surprised, but okay…I'm just trying to be straight with you. Don't believe me . . . I may be married—have been married for a _million_ years, but I can still tell when a woman is interested. She stared at you all night . . . while you kept stealing glances at your aunt, who's now avoiding you like the plague. Like you, I may not say much, but I always have my eyes open."

_My_ eyes shot up to meet his. "Um—"

He looked away from me, shaking his head, and he was suddenly pissed—like he just flipped that emotion on. "Do I even wanna know?"

I shook my head, my heart in my throat.

"That shit you were talking about before…? The married broad?"

I nodded, deciding to come clean if I had to. Dad doesn't want to see me dead, so he wouldn't tell my uncle. "Nothing happened—"

"Fuck." He turned in a circle, holding his head. "I wanna know everything—everything that happened last night." He looked to the door to the house, and then grabbed onto my sweater to pull me from the garage. "Start talking."

I slowly blew out a breath, placing my hands in my pockets. "I developed these feelings . . ." I racked my brain for the right words. "I thought she might have felt the same . . . I went over there last night. I kissed her—made her kiss me, and she—" I decided to leave the gun out of it, although I wasn't sure if I should. "She cried, kept telling me no, and for a minute—for a minute, I refused to take that for an answer. I was drunk—mad fucking drunk and confused. You have to believe me."

He didn't comment.

"I told her I was sorry a million times—she kicked me out of their house. It was all me. She—she hates me now," I whispered.

"And nothing happened?"

I rubbed my knotted stomach. "Nothing. It was all in my head."

"I—I'm speechless."

"I'm sorry."

He smacked me on the back of my head. "Regardless of your feelings . . . More importantly, you should have stepped off because of who she's married to. She's your uncle's wife—my brother."

"In my head, it didn't matter. I know what I did was wrong. It'll never happen again, and . . . nothing happened. She's being—acting like this victim, like I really did something," I sighed, looking up to the sky.

"Nothing happened," he repeated. "If that's true, you should be able to come clean—"

"He'd kill me. Carlisle would have the right, but—" I paused, turning my whole body to face him. "I'd kill him first—just so you know… I'm content to let _this_ die…you decide how important it is for Carlisle to know."

The side of his mouth pulled up into a smirk before he went back to being pissed. "Fuck." He turned to kick his own tire. "What goes on in there?" He got me again—the back of my head.

I took it. After all, I had no choice. "I fucked up. I was drunk—I'm never drinking again."

"I've heard that before—right from the horse's mouth. You sound like your uncle right now—pushing broads, don't know the meaning of the word no . . . Now that scares me. Are you _really_ sorry?" He spoke with his hands.

I bit my lip, ashamed of not being ashamed enough. "I was—I mean, yes. I am."

He sucked his teeth, shaking his head. "You have to work on that—sounding and looking like you _actually_ give a fuck."

"I hate that she hates me—is afraid of me. I wish I'd never gone over there, but if I hadn't . . . I'd still think I was in love with her. I know now that I'm not—I don't know what's wrong with me." I cradled my head. "I think I love them all . . ."

"Yeah, your uncle had that problem, too."

Carlisle was the last person I wanted to think about.

"I don't know what to make of you," Dad said. "I've learned so much about you in the past two days . . . I don't like everything I've heard."

Feeling like I'd been punched in the gut, I wondered why I was surprised by his words. "Sorry I'm a disappointment. No wonder you wanna marry me off to another family." Upset or not, I laughed.

"That's not what I meant—"

"It's cool." I shrugged. "She hates me—the one person I thought understood me. I think I'm hurting more, but fuck me, right? Just— Can we stop talking about it? Get on with life?" I felt compelled to walk away—get away from this house and him, but I couldn't. I needed to change the subject. Whether or not I was sorry, I still felt a great loss—as far as her being a friend was concerned. I'm not in love with her, but I still love her—as a friend—and she's just beautiful; an attraction is inevitable on my part.

It's what I do with those feelings . . .

As of now, they'd go in the vault and stay there forever.

"You're not a disappointment. What I meant was—"

"Oh, congrats . . . Grandpa." I was teasing, trying to lighten the mood, as I had no desire to hear his judgmental words.

He sighed, scratching the back of his head. "That's some crazy shit, right?"

I forced myself to laugh. "I guess . . ."

"Mom and me are gonna cel-e-brate." He punched the air. "If you feel the need to take them for ice cream or coffee after . . . by all means. Just don't let your sister out of your sight—but you know, youse can stay out."

"You want time alone with Mom?" I asked.

"Yes."

"You could have just said that." I rolled my eyes.

"Look," he held my arm, "shit happens. I still don't know what to tell you besides…stay away from Alex. You won't call, go over there, or send her shit. You understand?"

I nodded.

"You did what you did. It's done, okay? I happen to believe that Alex won't utter a word. She knows the shitstorm this could cause—it'd rain down on all of us. She has too much to lose by opening her mouth, even if she's the victim—"

"Victim." I spat.

"I'll talk to her—"

"No, you won't."

He ignored me. "Despite hating you, she wouldn't want to see you hurt. Let this go."

"Right." I rasped.

"If I find out you went over there—"

"I won't," I said.

"We're ready!" Kylie jumped into the driveway.

"Oh," Dad reached into his pocket, "here." He handed me a hundred bucks.

"What's this?" I went to give it back. "I have money." I definitely didn't want his.

"Pay for all of them." He pushed me. "It'll make you look—I don't know." He walked back toward the house.

I sighed, waiting for the three of them to get into the car. But then I remembered my nine was hiding in the backyard. "I'll be right back."

"Damion!" Kylie exclaimed. "I finally got out. Mom wouldn't let us go. She kept talking, and now—"

"I gotta piss!" I hated myself for shouting that—embarrassing myself.

Nevertheless, I went through the house to get to the backyard. My gun was where Sonny placed it earlier. Honestly, whether he trusts me or not, Dad would not have let Kylie leave with me if he hadn't learned I'd taken to carrying one. We would have still gone to the movies—all piled into Mom's minivan—but Vito would've had to follow us.

Now he knows I can handle myself, and that made me smile for some reason, even if I was a disappointment. At least now he's learning the truth—how fucked I was. Mom still thinks I'm her little angel.

"Damion…?"

I heard her voice and didn't want to turn around. Instead, I placed my heat in my waist, making sure no one could see.

"Damion…?" she asked again, and I could feel that she'd walked closer. "Did you get my letter?"

Gulping, making my heart go back down to where it's supposed to be, I turned around to face her. Maggie was in pajamas—these pink and white shits, and a gray hoodie—and she had a dog, a collie, with her.

Maggie was adorable—as beautiful as she was last night, only now I could see how young she was. Her eyes were bright with a softness that told me she'd never seen . . . anything before, an innocent hue. All of which made me feel even worse about last night.

Did anything good come from last night?

I wanted to forget all about it—every-fucking-thing—stuff it all into that same vault that held my confusion over Alex.

"Are you okay?" Maggie reached for me. "You look—"

I pulled back, pushing my glasses up my nose. "I'm fine."

"Oh—"

"I gotta go." I went to walk around her.

"Did you get my note?"

I stopped, turning back to her. "I haven't had the chance to read it. My brother forgot he had it," I said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." She steered her dog away from my mother's plants. "I just—I wanted to say hi."

"Hello." I had no idea what to say. "Listen, about last night—" I held my lips, my other hand still in my pocket—stuck on stupid. "I drank too—too much, which isn't an excuse . . . but I apologize if I offended you, or disrespected you in any way—"

"You didn't." She cut me off, smiling brightly. "Last night was . . ." She went off with a sigh, holding her stomach. "It was amazing. I had a great time."

"Cool." I blew out a breath, pushing my hair back. "I was on my way out . . ."

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"I know, but where?" she asked.

"Um, the movies." I furrowed my brow, surprised that I wasn't pissed at her for pushing. It was actually cute.

"A date?"

I shook my head. "I don't know what it is. My companion is a female…" I rocked back on my heels, thinking better. "Yes, she's my date."

The wind picked up and I was able to see her outline—her sweater snug around her midsection. She might be Miss Susie Sunshine—on her way to the convent—but she truly had a body made for sin.

I'd—

I shook my head of the thoughts before they could form.

They were the same from last night, wanting to make her my li'l slut, turn her into the opposite of what she was now.

She's legal, and that's all I really had to know about her for what_ I_ had in mind.

That doesn't make thinking about her okay, though.

"Oh." Her shoulders slumped. "I thought—well, I—" She sniffled and tears filled her eyes.

"Why—uh—" I pointed to her dumbly. "You okay?" I remembered everything from last night, only it plays like a dream would. "I know—I know I was persistent, I got fresh with you…" I shouldn't be allowed near women at all, I thought.

"You didn't—you didn't do anything, but I _thought_ you wanted to." She was crying, refusing to face me, and she was correct. A large part of me wanted to kiss the fuck out of her right now—claim her.

But . . .

"Why are you crying?" I wanted to wipe her tears away, pull her into a hug, but…

And I didn't know why I cared.

I usually don't do tears—can't fucking stand them.

"Because I'm so stupid." She hiccupped.

"No…you're not." I mock punched her shoulder. "You're cool, Church Girl," I laughed.

"I didn't want to be Church Girl—not with you." She whimpered.

"Maggie—"

"I should go." She backed away from me. "Have a nice life."

Her parting words were so final, and they threw me for a loop. And no matter how much I didn't want her to go—_although I had no idea why I wanted her to stay_—I didn't go after her.

"Get home safe!" I called out to her, having walked out to the front.

Tonight would be a night of cutting losses—licking my wounds, realizing that the path I was on was no longer an option. I had to look forward to the future, let shit go, and get on with my life.

Because life continues whether you're ready or not—it'll end up just happening around you if you're not careful. Time passes, things change, but sometimes people don't evolve. They get stuck, and I wasn't going to be one of those sorry motherfuckers.

Some shit happened this weekend, and I have no idea if I'd changed for the better, or for the worse. I hoped for the good—or what's supposedly "good", since I was no longer allowed to do those odd jobs, carry out contracts.

But I had to move on . . .

Before I entered the car, I racked my brain for an idea—what to do, how to be.

I'd sworn to be a gentleman, but I'd channel my inner Sonny. He's always calm and collected with women, regardless of having a horrible temper everywhere else. He's the epitome of a ladies' man.

"Ready to go?" With my heart on my sleeve, which is very unlike my brother, I hopped in, making sure to grin at Amelia.

She was riding shotgun. "Yes."

"Cool." I started the car, and the teenagers were already making out. All I heard were kissing noises, and I couldn't even peep Kylie in the backseat.

I turned on the radio. "Crazy night, huh? Bet you didn't think all that shit would happen." I placed my hand on her chair to back out of the driveway, while I also vowed to talk—be interesting and swallow my nerves.

Dad was right—totally fucking correct in his assessment.

At this point, I had _nothing_ to lose, but with Amelia . . . I had a shitload to gain.

Amelia . . .

Sure, she was way out of my league, but maybe I could woo her jeans off.

If everything my mother and father said was true . . .

Being married to someone who looked like her wouldn't be unfortunate either. When Dad said she wanted to settle down, that interested me—_she_ wasn't interested in head games, petty bullshit.

She wanted to get down to business, and I felt the same.

I hate all this shit—the dating, the small talk. I wasn't sure how much more I could take—having all these beautiful women around, and yet I haven't gotten laid in forever.

Before Julie broke up with me, she had it in her head that I was cheating. I was also busy—couldn't sniff around with the hopes she'd fuck me. I stopped trying over a month ago, and going without truly doesn't bother me. I jack off every day in the shower.

Overall, our sex life was decent, but then I don't know of anything else. We experimented _a lot_ . . . We'd just hit a recent dry spell. In fact, that should have tipped me off. All the other times she dumped me, she stopped having sex with me—being affectionate—weeks prior while she'd work up the nerves to say what was truly on her mind.

For someone who has all these females around, I sure as fuck wasn't embracing shit.

Why not settle down? I'd be done.

No matter how much I wanted to fall in love and get married, I still didn't want Julie back.

I _had_ evolved.

Amelia and I—we can continue with our schooling. She's younger, not even in medical school yet, so kids would have to wait. And I'm not ready to have children anyway. We'd get a house right here in Brooklyn. We'd be millionaires before we even started our careers. We'd stay out of the garbage, but still be close to our families.

I'd have money and I'd be married to the hottest fucking broad ever . . .

Fuck.

"Actually . . . all the crazy was nice," she whispered, staring out the window.

I drove to the corner and stopped for the light. "Nice?"

Her brows rose. "Well, you guys . . ." she giggled, her face flushing scarlet. "It was nice to see that you guys are a little dysfunctional?"

I nodded, taking off when the light turned green. "That we are."

"It was a relief." She nodded. I felt her eyes on me, which made me needlessly adjust my glasses. "I mean…I was nervous, and I think I made an ass out of myself in front of your brother."

I genuinely laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that."

"Yeah . . ." She blew out a breath. "You guys are like . . . royalty." Her snort was cute. "It was nice to see that you guys have your problems. I don't know. You probably think that's silly."

"No," I said, because I truly didn't. Most people believe that horrible misconception. We're normal, maybe even more fucked-up than the average American family.

"Your mom is really nice—your whole family is great. They're so welcoming and warm."

"Thank you."

We continued to drive, making that small talk, and it was okay. My answers remained on the short side, but she didn't seem to mind.

All the while I wanted to know more about her—not just about her own family, or what she thought of mine, or how nice the weather's been.

It wasn't about playing a role when we'd arrived at the theater. I genuinely wanted to learn more—be myself, let myself be this open book that she could read.

It'd be different. That in itself wouldn't be mundane.

Peto and Kylie were quick to jump out of the car. "Give me the money. I'll get the tickets while you park." She held her hand out.

I slapped the hundred-dollar bill into her palm, turning to Amelia. "Did you maybe wanna get some coffee instead?"

"I'd like that…thanks."

"Um…" My sister tapped on my forearm.

I looked back Kylie.

"You're not coming inside?" She leaned into the car. "Would you rent us a hotel room? We can't use our credit cards—they'd know. I bet Dad'll give you a medal or something if he saw that charge on yours . . . or, can I borrow s'more cash?"

I sighed. "Enjoy the movie."

"Please!" she begged.

"No, I'll be around . . . Call me if anything."

She made a face.

"I'm not going anywhere unless I see you go inside." I pointed.

"You're acting like Sonny." She grimaced.

"It is what it is."

"Thanks for the ride." Peto pulled her away from the car.

"If I find out youse didn't stay—"

"We're staying. No worries." He smiled at me. My sister pouted all the way to the entrance. They did buy tickets and enter.

Once they were out of sight, I put the car in drive.

"That was sweet of you—for looking out for her," Amelia said.

I grinned. "I'm her big brother . . . We're—we're big on security, as I'm sure you can imagine. Usually, I cut her some slack. Being the Skip's only daughter can be a hardship."

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

"But the hotel?" I winced, turning into the parking lot anyway. "It's too much. Did you wanna park and then we could walk? There's a coffee shop on Third Avenue—right there." I jerked a thumb. "It's not far."

"That's what I love about New York City. You essentially don't need a car—you can walk everywhere. I've never had that—always had to drive. Do you have a car? Kylie says this one is your mom's."

"Nope. I honestly never needed one—like you said. That, and I can get a ride anywhere, or borrow a whip. My parents offered, and then I was going to get one myself, but with school . . . I really just have no use for one." But as I stared at her, I briefly thought about it. If we continued seeing each other, I'd be making that trek to Jersey frequently.

_I'm getting ahead of myself. _

"Oh . . ."

We both became quiet. The car was parked. I found a spot quickly, but neither of us were leaving.

"So—" she was the first to speak, turning her whole body to me and leaning into the seat. "Does your mom try to hook you up often?"

I chuckled, even if that wasn't meant to be funny. "No…She's usually busy playing matchmaker for Sonny."

"Why?" she asked. "It sounded like—_and correct me if I'm wrong_—that he was hung up on…Katie, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but—" I didn't want to get into talking about them. "I, um, I was engaged—that's why she never set me up." I had to look away, as I wasn't sure how she'd react. "This is actually kind of sudden." Now I let out a nervous chuckle, studying the steering wheel.

"When…did you break up?"

"Yesterday," I whispered. "But . . . with me being in school, we didn't have much time for _us_. I'd say it had been over for a while. She just—I don't know—waited. I told her to keep the ring. I'm—"

"You poor thing." She placed her hand on my forearm. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine."

She sat up, pursing her lips. "Look, we don't have to do this." She waved a hand. "There's no pressure. You know? We don't have to see this as…a date? We can just forget about it. To be totally honest, I don't want to be anyone's rebound . . . I'm sorry if you felt you had to—if there was—if your mom pushed you," she rambled, a cute stammering mess. It was endearing and honest.

"Not at all." I didn't know how to reply to that. Personally, I wanted to see this as a date, but _was_ it too soon? Would_ regular_ people be dating this soon after calling off an engagement? Julie and I never set a date, but I knew I wanted us married before I started my residency. Plus, before yesterday, I hadn't seen her in nearly two weeks.

"You should really take some time for you—heal, figure out what you want." She rubbed up my bicep, and her touch—Christ, her touch was like a jolt. She'd shocked me, but I wasn't sure if she felt that. It was like a bug zapper. "Damn. You should use dryer sheets." She shook out her hand. "Get rid of that static."

"Um, yeah." I straightened up, too, pulling my sweater. "We can…Did you _want_ to see the movie?" I turned to her, wanting to catch her gaze, but she wouldn't look at me.

She grinned. "I'm fine here . . . if you just wanted to talk."

"Oh . . ." I nodded. "What exactly is a rebound?"

She giggled. "You don't know what one is?"

"I get the concept, but—"

"It's the person you use to get over the last person you were with—someone you just jump into things with to make yourself happy. It's a quick fix, but sometimes—most times they don't work out. And I'm not being presumptuous—that we'd hit it off—I'm just saying. They usually say the person you meet _after_ the rebound—that's the person you can settle with? But don't quote me. I don't know dick about relationships." She guffawed.

I smiled, wanting to touch her hair. Amelia's bangs were nearly in her eyes, and I just wanted to feel how soft it might be. "You've never had a boyfriend?"

"One . . . we were together for a while. We met when I was a college freshmen, and we were together almost two years." Her eyes widened. "We never lived together or anything. The last year we were together it was long distance . . . He was offered a job in Philadelphia . . ."

"So, I might be your rebound?" I was curious as to how often she dated.

She shook her head. "I've gone on a few dates—none of them promising." Amelia grimaced. "You have no idea how many losers there are out there."

"What about the dudes at your school? The ones in your program?"

She shrugged. "Just hasn't happened, and my dad is so . . . he scares them all away. In fact, I never have the chance to break up with anyone. I'm always getting dumped, or blown off."

I just went for it, pushed her soft bangs out of her eyes.

She paused while I did it, but smiled at me.

"Sorry. They looked like they were getting in your eyes."

"It's okay," she whispered.

"Your pops never scared away the boyfriend?"

"I managed to get away with hiding him for a while. Then . . . my father just had to realize that I'm grown—old enough to make my own decisions. But I mostly just . . . I never brought him home."

I had a question on the tip of my tongue, but I wasn't sure if I should ask. "How did you end up in the car with me tonight? I'm to understand your father is who he is—our family's business is similar . . ." Regardless of all the shit Dad said, I didn't know what she knew about her own father. It's different with the girls. Like, Kylie knows some things—has an idea—but she doesn't _know_.

"You mean, why I agreed?" She fidgeted where she sat, seemingly uncomfortable. "I went to lunch with my stepmother—your mother happened to be there. She, um, she showed me your picture. I'm single. You're—well, she said she _wished_ we could meet, and I didn't know what that meant—didn't know you were engaged. Now I do, but she called Friday—asking me to come to the wedding—hoping I'd be your date." She rolled her eyes. "Then that turned into dinner tonight, blah, blah." She waved a hand. "She kept calling me to change things around. Before this weekend, though, I think she only _wished_ we could get together."

"I'll be honest," I laughed, "my mother doesn't like many. She's only done this a few times, but never to me." The fact that Mom adored Amelia said a lot to me. I'm not like Sonny in that I do whatever my mother suggests, but Mom doesn't trust easily—that I did know.

"How's it going so far?"

I nodded. "Pretty fucking great."

She giggled, looking out the window.

"How 'bout that coffee?" The car was suffocating. The more I sat in it, the more I wanted us to go in the backseat to fool around. Now that'd be ideal. "Or, did you wanna get a drink-drink?"

"No . . . I was holding on, guzzling the wine when shit was hairy during dinner." She laughed and turned, leaving the car.

I steeled my nerves before I did the same.

So far, I didn't know what to make of Amelia. She was a knockout—complete with a fuck-awesome body. She's educated, seems easy going, and she's honest.

I felt like I hit the lottery—that maybe my luck was turning around.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. Part Two will be posted Wednesday . . . Things seem to be going well. What could go wrong?**


	12. Change of Pace Part Two

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Twelve: Change of Pace Part Two**

**Damion POV**

**W**hile we walked, I maintained my distance and was stuck for conversation. I hoped she'd ask me questions or fill the silence.

She didn't.

Like someone else I know, she kept gazing up to the sky.

When we were about to cross the street, I instinctively grasped her hand. She didn't let go when we got to the sidewalk either.

It was a great feeling—her small, soft hand within my own. It was sweet, and I couldn't believe how starved for company, affection, I truly was. I craved it—even the most chaste of touches—but I didn't know if it was true, or if it was an Amelia thing.

She was just warm . . . I wanted to snuggle, play with her hair . . . cherish her as if she was my pet, worship her body.

"This place has great espresso." I opened the door to the café for her, dreading that we'd likely see someone I knew. "Only bad thing—" I stopped talking when I saw Joe and his brother sitting at a table. "It's amazing, so everyone in the 'hood comes here." I finished my thought, throwing him a chin jerk.

She didn't comment; she just walked closer to me, which was welcomed. The dimly lit coffee house, equipped with booths, tables, couches, and fluffy chairs, wasn't littered with people. I knew it would be after the movie was over, but right now all it consisted of was Joe, his people, and a couple of others.

"Let's sit—they'll come to us." And I wasn't just talking about a server as I led us over to a booth.

"How's the biscotti?" she asked, sliding in.

Instead of sitting across from her, I sat next to her to plant my flag. "I never tried it."

"You don't like sweets?" She shrugged out of her jacket.

I helped her with that and folded it over to place it on the other seat. "I do . . . I just haven't had—"

"Cullen." Joe and his brother David—the guy I yoked up last night—were standing by our table.

"'Sup?" I placed my arm around Amelia.

"Who's this—new girl?" He winked at her.

"Joe, this is—"

"Mary." Amelia shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Although I had no idea why she lied about her name, I respected it.

"Likewise," Joe said. "Just move to Bay Ridge, or…?"

"She's a friend of the family—came to town for the wedding." I smiled up at him.

He grinned down to her. "Shame…"

I snapped my fingers in his face. "Can _I_ help you?"

His eyes slowly trailed back to me. "I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings." His face was fucked—had a black eye, cut lip—in fact, both of his eyes were darkened. I wouldn't be surprised if Sonny broke his nose.

My brother's right hook is lethal. Whenever he knocks me one, he holds himself back—that I knew, or else I'd never fucking provoke him.

I nodded. "I think you need to have that conversation with Sonny." I shrugged. "What you and Kylie do, or what you and Carli do . . ." If he'd truly played my sister, he'd be dead already. And even though what he did happened before she took off with Peto, she still did—they made him look like the fool.

"Shhh." He looked around us. "No need to repeat that."

I winced, leaning toward him. "I wouldn't repeat that shit either." Needless to say, it didn't really concern me. I cared. I also think Joe is a scumbag, but my brother had the problem, and I wanted Joe to step off.

I'm trying hard to behave, and if this fucker ruins my night . . .

"Right." Joe looked away from us, and I let my hand linger on my nine—just in case. "You remember Bianca?" he asked.

Nunzio's daughter came walking out from the back. She wore this tight red dress that hugged her curves. Her hair was down and flowing . . . all while she was putting things back into her purse. She hadn't seen me yet, and that was fine.

"We ready?" she asked him. "Oh, hey!" Bianca smiled down to me, and she may be pretty . . . but she wasn't as gorgeous as Amelia, and she carried herself like a straight up ho-bag, especially if she's with Joe now. I bet him and his brother are both taking turns with her. Slut.

I gave her a small wave.

"Movie starts in fifteen minutes—we gotta go." Joe placed his arm around her. "I'm sure you want popcorn."

"Movie?" I spoke up.

Because . . . I wouldn't put it past Joe or his brother to gang up on Peto. It doesn't matter that Joe is here with Bianca. In his eyes, Peto stole Kylie—_his meal ticket_—away from him. It's one thing to make your bones, to do the occasional, questionable job, or scheme to move up in rank, but it's whole other thing to fuck your way there.

I was slightly impressed by his creativity and just a bit disgusted.

_Who does that?_

"Zac Efron shit—this one." Joe jerked his thumb, and he's always spoken like a caveman.

"I loved him when I was a kid," Bianca sighed. "As an adult actor, though..."

"Hey." Joe gave her squeeze, jealous of her admiration.

"He has a small dick." Amelia blurted, and we all turned to her—Mary—when she said that.

"Something I should know about you and Zac—whatever?" I laughed.

"Word . . . whattaya doin' with this one?" Dave laughed at me, while Joe gave him a high-five. "If you could have Zac Whatshisface."

"This one's hung like a horse." Amelia nuzzled her nose into my neck, and I had to blow out a breath—half-shocked, and very turned on—but I masked it, going along with it. "But no . . ." She looked back to Joe and them. "I saw a picture once online . . . You _are_ a sexy fucker . . . _and you smell amazing_." She grasped my chin, turning me to face her. "Take care," Amelia said, not moving her eyes from mine.

"See you later, Damion?" Bianca asked, placing her hand on my shoulder. "We should all—"

In my periphery, I saw Amelia push her hand off and away. "Buh-bye." She daintily waved to them, winking at me.

I just kept studying her gorgeous face, not wanting to look away—no matter how rude. That was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.

_Talking about planting a flag—Amelia just staked a claim!_

I liked it. No woman had ever done that before . . . got possessive or made a show.

My cock was hard as fuck right now.

"What was that?" I whispered.

When the bell sounded, indicating they'd left, Amelia sat back—moving away from me. "I don't know."

"Don't know?" Wanting her back where she was, I asked, "Mary?" while grasping her chin and turning her back to me.

She looked embarrassed. "I—"

"Hello, hello!" The waitress was here now—announced herself—and the spell was broken.

After we ordered two espressos and some biscotti to go—since we'd have to chill near the theater—I pulled Amelia into my side. Taking another chance on fate, it worked out this time. She didn't pull away.

"Mary is the corny alias my father gave me." She stuck out her tongue. "I didn't know them . . . but I hope you know now . . . Not with _everyone_, but—those guys are connected, right?"

"Yes." I pulled her hair away from her shoulder.

"Then…they should know me as Mary . . . especially here in New York. That's what my father told me. You and your family are cool, but...others may not be cool with me associating? It makes little sense to me."

"I get it." I played with a lock of her hair. "There's been beef on and off between New York and Jersey for a long time—since before both of our pops' were even born."

"Really? How do you know that?" She stared at my lips.

"I have good ears." I grinned. "But I'm more interested in what _that_ show was about."

"Um, you clammed up . . ."

"I'm trying to be good," I whispered.

"Aren't we all...?" she spoke to the table.

My response was to smile and nod, and I'd been doing a lot of that tonight.

"Was that your ex-girlfriend?" She fiddled with a napkin. "She's really pretty."

"No." I chuckled. "Why—"

"Just…the way you acted. Sorry for being nosy."

"No," I paused when the waitress brought the coffees over. "Pry . . . ask me things." We locked gazes, and this was one of those moments where I _should_ kiss her . . .

"All right. I'll ask." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but I didn't kiss her.

Touching her bottom lip with my thumb, I said, "You're gorgeous."

"Thanks." She smiled a really big one at me, and then covered her mouth with her hand. I didn't know why she was giddy suddenly.

I cleared my throat. "You ready?"

She nodded.

We actually went back to the car. I pulled it around to park right in front of the movie theater. I didn't know what would happen—thought we should maybe chill inside. If anything happened, it'd be my ass—that I knew for sure. I had to be on point.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

I briefly wondered why broads always asked that shit. "Honestly?" I kept staring at the theater.

Able to see inside the lobby, there was a mass of people, most of them waiting on line for popcorn and such. My only hope was that Peto and Kylie weren't hungry. They were early. Joe and them were right on time, but movies never start when they're supposed to—previews and such. Then I hoped my sister liked those commercials like I do—I never miss them, compulsively have to be there to see them.

"Yeah, honestly." She waited.

I smiled, looking away for a second. "Just…I'm happy to be here with you." And I was, very much so. "I just—I wish we had some place better to go."

Amelia lifted her hand, paused, and then just grabbed mine. "This is great. Just this."

"Cool," I whispered. "You? What are you thinking about?" Through my side eye, I saw a small group leaving the theater. "Fuck." It was Joe and David, and they'd pushed Peto out while Kylie and Bianca followed after them. "Stay here."

"What?" Amelia shouted.

Ignoring her, I rapidly left the car to run across the street. They hadn't stopped at the front. They were making Peto walk around the corner.

_Can't a fuckin' night pass without drama?_ I asked myself, quietly trailing after them while drawing my nine and cocking the mag back.

Hopefully I wouldn't need it, but I knew Joe and David would be strapped. They're punks—would do this shit two against one. I knew they wouldn't shoot Peto. It'd be their funerals, but roughing him up wouldn't forfeit their lives—even if that's Aro's son. We men come to blows often, especially where broads are concerned. It's expected and ignored.

"Let him go!" Kylie shouted.

By now, I was hiding in the shadows, ever so curious as to how this would play out.

"You think you're so fucking slick?" Joe popped Peto in the mouth; meanwhile, David held his arms back—giving his brother full access.

"Ky, just go!" Peto called out to her. "Run!"

Peto's a good guy, I thought.

"I'm calling my dad . . . Daddy . . ." My sister was crying, her face crumbling.

Joe was fast to turn, slapping Kylie's phone down before she could dial. It hit the ground, and then she started hitting him—punching him in the chest and face as he laughed, gathering her hands into his own. "Fuckin' little whore—"

"I fucking hate you!" Kylie screamed.

Joe pushed her into Bianca. "Keep her quiet."

Bianca tried to calm my sister down, hugging onto her. "Joey, what the fuck is wrong with you? Stop this!"

"I'm gonna tell my father, and then you're both dead!" I'll be damned if Kylie didn't have a hint of a smile. It must be in our blood . . . "He'll kill you both!"

Joe grabbed Kylie's arm, pushing her into Bianca even more—making them cringe into the brick wall. "I said keep her quiet!"

"Joey!" Bianca slapped him and Kylie got him, too. Maybe I wouldn't have to do anything. _They'd_ beat the shit out of Joe.

But then he squeezed Kylie's arm so hard, she cried out. "Oww!" she wailed, holding her bicep.

Seeing my baby sister cry like that . . . it's still one of the saddest things ever to me. I'll never know why.

"Oh my God…are you okay?" Bianca was crying, too, fiddling with her own cell. "We'll call my dad." She's a ho, but she wasn't standing by her supposed man, and I thought that was cool. If I remember correctly, Nunzio is somehow related to Aro, which would make Bianca and Peto distant cousins, or something. Fuck if I know or care, but blood is thicker than water . . . even watered down blood. And Bianca just moved here, I remembered hearing that, too. She didn't grow up with us like Joe and his brothers.

_Damn. Sonny and now Joe? She fucking moves fast. _

"No one is calling anyone!" Joe threw Bianca's phone across the street, and then went for Kylie again.

My sister's fist almost reached his balls, but he caught her hands.

"You motherfucker—touch her again—you're dead!" Peto fought against David, and I'd had enough of a show.

It was getting boring, and I was right here, and Joe kept hitting that poor kid...

"I'll do what I want—" Joe punched Peto again while his brother chuckled.

"Me too!" I exclaimed. "You're a dead man now,"_ I_ laughed, making my presence known. "Let him go." My gaze lingered on David.

He was fast to push Peto away, making him fall onto the ground. But Peto hopped up to punch David in the nose. "Pussy fucker—"

David slammed back into the wall.

"Take Kylie and go," I told him, not lowering my nine. "Now!"

Peto wouldn't listen. While Joe just stood there, chest heaving and staring at me, David got his ass kicked by Peto.

"Gio . . . stop!" Kylie ran to him.

"You kidding me with this shit?" I asked Joe.

He widened his arms, like he didn't want any trouble. "He steals my fiancée—"

"What the fuck do you care? Honestly?" This shit was amusing, but Kylie, Peto, and Bianca were still around.

"It's principle. She was to be my wife. What the fuck would have me do, Dame?" he questioned.

I ignored Joe, even if I understood his reasoning. It was "principle".

"It's not his fault! I would have never married you!" Kylie cried. "And I'm not the bad guy." She pointed to herself. "You slept with my cousin."

"You don't owe him shit," I told Kylie.

Joe nodded. "You would have married me anyway. Trust"

"Go for it." I looked to Peto and tilted my head to Joe. He had one shot, and Peto fucking took it. He knocked him a good one—right in the nose. Joe curled in on himself, holding his face. If it wasn't broken before, it was now.

"You're such a pussy!" Peto shouted. "Look at you...not so tough now—"

Kylie pushed her boyfriend out of the way only to junk-punch Joe. "Asshole!"

"Enough," I said.

Joe had a choice, since before he even saw them in the theaters. To me, it wasn't a question of _if_ Joe would approach them, but when and how, and would I be there? Peto could have gone back to Texas unscathed . . . if this fucker hadn't seen him, but then Joe would be lurking Thanksgiving weekend, waiting. Who knows? He could have possibly gotten to Kylie another way, while she was alone—stopped by the salon during the day? Vito's older than dirt, and all that fucker does is sit out in the car. I've ducked into the backdoor at the salon quite a few times. It's not difficult.

But back to Joe's choice—save face or ass, and he chose face, like most dumb, macho motherfuckers do. "You three—get the fuck outta here. I'm not playing." I looked to my sister.

"Come on." Peto stole her hand, dragging her away.

"Damion, no!" she cried, reaching for me, scared for me when she had no reason to be. "Let's just go. We'll tell Daddy, and then—"

"Daddy." Joe made fun of her.

"I'm fine," I said to reassure her, but my eyes never left Joe and David. "What should I do with you two?"

They shared a look.

"Don't be cute," I warned.

Joe's head whipped back to me. He wiped his hands clean, keeping them in my sight. "We just wanted to scare him—lump him up a little, all right?" Worse for wear, he huffed out labored breaths, and then stared after Kylie.

This wouldn't be over unless_ I_ ended it.

"Yeah, well," I laughed, "that's cool, but you touched my sister. For that, like I said, you're dead. The only question is how?" I enjoyed this way too much. "Have a seat—against the wall." We were in a darkened alley, and I wondered how much time I'd have to play. Being in the open like this…I've never had this problem before. "Toss your heat over, too."

Those dumb fuckers did as I said, and I couldn't believe it. Armed or not, if some guy was holding Sonny and me up? I would have charged him already—regardless.

"Um—"

Movement to my side caught my attention. It was Amelia. "I told you to stay in the car."

"Your sister was crying…" She stared at Joe and David. "I thought—um—I wasn't sure if, um—"

"Look at me," I said, digging my phone out of my pocket, but that's when I saw what was in her hand. She had a gun—lowered and half-hidden by her sleeve—yet she looked frightened. "Point it."

Her eyes widened, lifting her hand. It was in my face for a brief second.

I laughed, leaning back. "Here." I took her hand, aiming it and her nine at those fuckers—instructing her.

"Damion…" Joe said. "This shit isn't funny anymore."

"Shut the fuck up!" I shouted, but got behind Amelia. "You keep that pointed." She had a silencer attached and everything, and now I knew why her purse was so big.

She nodded. "Um, yeah."

"Don't look away." I kissed her cheek. "I have to make a phone call."

"Damion—" Joe again.

I got closer to put my heat in Joe's face. "Shut up." I kicked their weapons toward Amelia. "If they move . . . start shooting."

"Cullen, you fucker!" Joe tried to gain my attention. "Are _you_ serious?"

I smirked at that asshole, hitting my father's name on my phone and bringing it to my ear.

_"Hello…?_" He was out of breath, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "_Everything—everything okay?"_

"No," I said. "I'm at the Alpine…baby girl's fine, but we had a problem."

He was quiet for a few seconds, and I heard my mother's muffled voice in the background. Then I heard scrambling and a toilet flush. _"What—"_

"I need two cats and a whip." I racked my brain for a way to elaborate. "Ky's ex-roach liked the movie, too—went bananas." Now I did roll my eyes—at myself—but I needed to make sure he didn't do something stupid. Like, send Joe's father. His family lives only a few blocks over. I would have called Sonny or maybe even Aro; however, the both of them were busy.

Ever since I was a kid, I was always told to call Aro if I ran into trouble. With my father's status comes a watchful eye. Aro has always flown under the radar—and we were to always trust him.

Sadly, I never did.

But if I was going to trust anyone, especially right now when I needed help, it was my father.

_"There's a roach motel in the area...a minute away." _

"Okay. . ."

_"Hang up,"_ he said.

I ended the call, looking back to the scene that I never really took my eyes away from.

Amelia seemed a lot more comfortable with her gun—she used both of her hands, which were steady, and she had her feet parted, she was balanced.

"Sweetheart," Joe whispered.

"Sweetheart, nothing." She stepped closer, and I swore I was in love.

"You did good," I said, stealing another kiss on her cheek. "Gimme this."

Amelia handed it over, looking down to the ground.

"Can you go back to the car?" I asked.

"But—" Her lip quivered, showing her fear.

"It'll be all right. Take this." I gave her my gun instead. "Trust me." My eyes locked to hers. "I promise it'll be fine."

"Okay." She backed up, and then finally turned when she was paces away.

"Your ride should be here any minute—"

"Let's talk this out." Joe moved and I pulled the trigger. Not knowing what he was going to do, I figured better him than me. The shot rang through the air with almost no sound at all. It was fast; hit him before his brother even noticed. Joe flew back against the wall. He cried out, and then reached to hold his stomach.

Truth be told, I didn't want to kill him . . . not yet. When whoever gets here, I'll have enough time to give Peto or Amelia the keys.

They'd go home, and then I could play . . .

That ride showed up a lot faster than I thought. A car stopped short behind me, and Caius came out. Nunzio was driving.

"What happened?" Caius looked from me and then to Joe. "Who did this?"

"He's fucking nuts!" David shouted. "We didn't do nothin'." He was trying to apply pressure to Joe's wound.

"Dame, start talking..." Caius wore a smirk.

"No one else is involved . . . I shot him," I said simply. "Let's get them outta here."

"Hang on a sec." Caius was looking up and down the block.

"No one saw . . . except Bianca." I looked to Nunzio.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"With my sister. Up the block. She's fine . . . but she saw me with them." I tilted my head to Joe.

Nunzio lifted his hands. "You have her silence as you have mine." He was wary, and he should be.

"Get them in the fucking car." I decided I was going to run this show.

"Listen to you," Caius laughed. "We got Baby Skip ova hea."

"I look like I'm joking?"

Caius didn't think it was funny anymore. "You're cute. You seriously are. But let us take care of this. You did good." He patted my back. "The only orders I was given," he placed his hands on his chest, "were to make this whole situation disappear. So, put that down." He placed his hand on mine that held the gun. "Get your sister and get the fuck out of here."

I gritted my teeth.

"Take it up with your father, but I don't have the time to argue this with you."

I placed the silenced nine in my waist. "Fine."

"I think he's dead!" David hollered. "Someone help me."

I stared as I started to walk over.

"Dame—" Caius caught my arm.

But I felt bad for David, having to see his brother like this, and I was already kneeling down to Joe. His breaths were hollow, his skin an ashen gray. "He's not dead—" I lifted the nine, "—yet." I popped one between his eyes. "Now he's dead." It was like putting a sick animal out of its misery—a good deed.

"You motherfuck—" David came at me, but then he fell back.

Caius shot him in the face.

"Thanks," I said, right before Caius yoked me up by my shoulder.

"Get outta here now!"

Smiling, I backed away, turned, and then sprinted up the block.

Amelia, Peto, and Kylie were sitting in the minivan, while Bianca smoked a cigarette outside of it. They all had wide eyes when I hopped into the car.

"Are you—" Amelia grasped onto my sweater. "Um—"

"I'm fine . . . Ky, tell Bianca to go home."

"I heard him," Bianca said, content to walk away, yet she was still crying. I think they live a few blocks from here, too. Although, Bianca did just move here . . . I briefly thought about giving her a ride home.

However, since I didn't give a fuck about that cooz, I pulled away fast—making the tires screech. She essentially saw nothing, but I was sure it'd pique her interest when Joe was officially missing. Her father will handle that, though, I was sure.

"You have—on your glasses," Amelia whispered, taking my glasses from my face to wipe them off with a napkin. "Sorry. Here." She put them back on me, and I was fast to adjust them.

Sure that they were splattered with blood, I grinned. "Thank you."

No one saw anything—no one heard anything, and I'd always be eternally grateful for Amelia's silenced nine. Without it, well, my hands probably wouldn't have gotten dirty. I would have never taken a shot out in the open like that.

But . . .

"What are we going to do?" Kylie was still crying. She'd never seen anything like that before, except for maybe an occasional scuffle between Sonny and me.

I sighed, turning down our street.

"I hope—I hope—Daddy's gonna hurt him. I—"

"Shhh." Peto soothed her.

"And look at you . . ." My sister was sobbing.

In the rearview, I saw her attack him with a hug. Peto's face was bruised and bloodied. I was sure Kylie's arm was black and blue, too.

_I did the right thing._

Whether they died in that alley or wherever Caius would have taken them, they were still going to die. It raises a flag—makes me wonder what will happen to their other brother and their father.

Knowing mine, he'd take care of those two as well, so there are no future problems.

"There's, uh—" Amelia cleared her throat, keeping her voice down. "There's blood on your face, too. Just a little."

I shrugged, but lifted the neck of my sweater to wipe it away. "I'm sorry you had to see that." She didn't see me_ do_ anything either, but she could put two and two together.

"It happens, I guess."

My head whipped to her—shocked by her admission—but then I looked back out the windshield to pull into the garage.

My father was waiting in the carport, pacing along with my mother. Luckily, Kylie was still hysterical and ran into Mom's arms, occupying her. Dad came over to my side and pulled open the door.

"Take off your sweater," he whispered. "And give me this." He stole Amelia's nine away from me, placing it in the back of his waist.

I did as he said, using my sweater to clean my face and hands again.

"You're good." He stole that from me, too—tossing it under the minivan—as everyone else just kind of stood around.

"What happened?" Mom asked, rubbing Kylie's back.

"We were playing the video game." Kylie backed away from Mom. "Then I turned around . . . Joe and David—"

"They cornered me—forced me to leave," Peto said.

"You okay?" Dad touched his cheek.

"Yeah." He nodded.

"You need some ice..." My father surveyed the damage to Peto's face. "He got you good—no stitches, though."

"I'm fine." Peto rasped.

"It's not fine!" Kylie screeched. "Daddy, they—they..." She started blubbering again.

Uncomfortable, standing in my undershirt, I fell back—trying to blend in with the car, wanting to run inside.

"That's a hot tatt." Amelia touched my arm, and my stomach jumped.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"So, what happened?" Mom looked to me, her eyes widening, trailing up and down my form. "Tell me what happened!"

I slightly shook my head no, like there was nothing to be told, as I backed away from her. She kept advancing with this odd look on her face. "Damion! You tell me—right now." Her chin trembled, her eyes flooding with tears. "Did you—did you—"

"Bella…" Dad held her biceps, placing his lips in her hair. "Relax."

"What happened?" She turned to look at Kylie and Peto. "Where's Joe now? Where. Is. He?!"

They shrugged, not saying anything, but looking to me.

They honestly had no idea.

All of which made Mom face me again. "You—" She slapped me across the face, making my head turn and Kylie gasp. "Tell me you didn't!" Dad caught her before she could attack me. "You tell me!"

She knew.

I wasn't sure how she knew, but she did.

"Damion?" Kylie reached for me as Mom collapsed, a crying mess, into Dad's arms. "Why—why did she hit you?" She looked angry at our mother.

I jerked away from them—my parents, the scene. "I'm fine."

"Mom, he didn't do anything," Kylie said. "Daddy, Damion didn't do anything wrong. As soon as something happened, he was there for us . . . Oh…" My sister got down to her knees, placing her hand on Mom's shoulder. "I know you didn't mean it."

My mother just kept crying . . .

"I sent Caius over . . . Damion didn't do anything." Dad met my gaze from over my mother's head. "Bella . . . he didn't do anything. Stop crying."

"Hey." Amelia grasped my hand.

I let it go. "I'll be inside."

The night couldn't get any crazier than it already was. Things were going amazing, very smoothly, and then . . . and then this.

Everything I touch truly does turn to shit.

My stop was the bathroom, where I scrubbed my hands and face with soap. My jeans didn't have a spot on them, neither did anything else I was wearing. But I knew the drill.

After making sure the door was locked, I stripped down, emptied my pockets, and placed my clothes in the garbage bag that lined the pail.

Maggie's note sat there by the sink, and I threw that into the trash as well. I didn't know, nor did I care what it said.

Then I showered, just let the water hit my back—needing to let go of the aggression I felt. No, I wasn't angry. Anything I'd felt toward Joe was released when I pulled the trigger.

I was more upset that my mother slapped me in front of Amelia than anything else. That's why taking a shower was my best course of action. Maybe by the time I got out, Amelia would be gone. I didn't want to see her sad, pity-filled eyes.

I was the biggest loser on the fucking planet.

Our first date—whatever tonight was—was ruined.

Once clean, I dried off, grabbed my bag of dirty clothes, and quietly entered my bedroom. Able to hear voices, I tried to listen. It sounded as though Aro and my brother were back. Of course, they likely heard what happened. Aro would run to his son, and Sonny would just run back . . .

Their muffled voices were mixed with my mother and father's, although I couldn't make out all that was being said.

Knowing I wasn't going anywhere tonight—content to hide in my bedroom until morning—I put another undershirt on and some sweats.

When someone knocked, I cringed and banged my head into my pillow. It was either Sonny, or my mother coming back to . . . I don't know. I didn't care that she hit me, that she might possibly know that her son was a murderer. I cared that she embarrassed me, as I never need any help in that department.

Silently, I opened the door for Amelia. She stood there, staring up at me, and I couldn't meet her stare. Like a pussy, I looked to the floor, and I had no idea what to say, although I knew I should apologize.

"Can I come in?" she asked, keeping her voice down. Amelia didn't give me a chance to respond. She just walked right in, standing in the middle of my bedroom. "Nice digs . . ." She looked around. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, turning toward her and studying my socks.

"Hey." She grasped my hand, pulling it, and thus me, down to her.

Her lips where soft, gentle when they touched mine.

Surprised, my stomach lurched—filling with butterflies, my cock coming to life, my heart thumping away . . . My body reacted the same way it did last night, only amplified by a thousand. This was better—my mind was blown, my heart soaring . . .

When her fingers wove into my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss, my hands roamed down her back, getting two-handfuls of ass and holding her against me. Our tongues tangled, and I couldn't get enough. She couldn't either—her hands leaving my hair to claw at my shoulders, trying to climb up my body, a small moan escaping her lips. The sound was hot as fuck, made my dick twitch.

"Oh, shit—my bad." It was my father.

Amelia and I paused, locking eyes. She eventually turned away, her cheeks crimson.

"Yeah?" I cleared my throat, refusing to let go of her. She was shielding my cock since the sweatpants wouldn't.

Dad wore a shit-eating grin, standing in the doorway. I never closed the damn thing, and I couldn't blame him. "Hon, I spoke to your dad."

"Um, okay," Amelia whispered.

"Damion will show you where the guest room is," he placed his hand on the doorknob, "and I'm sure Kylie can loan you some PJs." He kept his gaze off of us as he closed my door.

"Guess I'm sleeping over," she said.

"Hey…" I pulled her back into my arms. "What was that?" My smile probably lit up the room. That kiss was . . . I couldn't even describe it. I could try, but I'd never do it justice, and I wanted to do it again, and again, and again.

"I don't know," she said. "I just—I felt like it? You looked like you needed it."

I nodded. "Thanks—"

She placed her finger over my lips. "Don't beat yourself up." Before I could ask, she continued, "You did the right thing."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"No," she said. "You did. You protected your sister, you protected me . . . you're intense, Cullen." Her smile was coy.

My mouth pulled into a smirk, as much as I wished it wouldn't. Most people find me boring and creepy, quiet.

"I finally had some use for that thing. My dad makes me carry that when I travel into New York. I hardly know how to use it."

"I can teach you how." I wanted to kiss her again, but I wasn't sure.

"It's illegal…When I saw Kylie and Gio run back to the car . . . I didn't know what to think. She kept crying—"

"So…you…you came to save me?" I didn't know what to think, either. I was impressed, felt like crying and rejoicing. She cared enough to seek me out. That thought alone baffled me. Never in my life had I ever known someone to care that much, someone who wasn't related to me.

"Everything I heard about you . . . you're this smart, quiet guy. I thought you weren't connected, thought you were empty handed. What I did was probably stupid."

"It wasn't," I said. "But you hardly know me. I just—"

She shrugged. "Maybe I am stupid. I mean," she snorted, "what the fuck was I going to do? I had the gun, but …" She left me to sit on my bed.

I followed after her.

"Like I said, I wasn't sure if you had a gun . . . and you'd said _those guys_ were you know. I had to do something." She was rambling, talking very fast. "The only numbers I know are for my dad's people, and—"

I turned to her to face me. "Thank you."

She blushed. "You were in control, though. I didn't know what to think when I got there, and _you_ were—you had them," she sighed.

I didn't comment, rubbing my knuckles against her soft cheek.

"It was hot—fucking sexy as hell, dude." What she said made me laugh. "I'm just being honest. I was standing there like this idiot—"

"You weren't." I shook my head.

"Meanwhile . . . I was a mix between scared and ready to mount you."

"Mount me?" I'd never heard that shit before. "Well…" Trying not to sound like an asshole, I wasn't sure how to say that she could—whenever she wanted to.

She covered her mouth. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

I pulled her hand away. "I dig honesty."

"Me, too." She nodded. "That's how they do it in Brooklyn, huh? I mean, I know some things—know they happen. But I've never seen..."

I looked away from her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She hit my arm.

"I'm just a med student."

"Sure." She didn't believe me.

But then we both became quiet, and this time the silence threatened to eat me alive. "You need pajamas?" I asked, going toward my chest of drawers. "I can hook you up."

"Thank you."

After pulling out some clothes for her to sleep in, I escorted her to the guest bedroom, showing her where two other bathrooms were on the way.

"Yo…" Sonny whispered.

I was contemplative, standing by the guest room while he crept over. "What?" I walked away from the door.

"What happened?" We asked each other in unison.

Sonny waved a hand. "Don't worry about me." He pointed to himself. "You iced Joe?"

I looked around.

"And things are going well?" He tilted his head to the guest room. "Dad said."

I nodded on both accounts.

Sonny slapped his hand to mine. "It'll be good, no worries."

I knew he meant everything—_everything_ would be all right. "What do I do now?" Wondering how I could clean this up, I leaned toward him. "What should—"

"Nothing. You do nothing. You did what you did...Dad and I...we'll take care of it."

"Of course." I was sarcastic.

"Dad was able to convince Mom."

"Thank God." I let out a breath. "You didn't see how upset she was."

"You're her shining star . . . If you weren't in med school, she'd likely urge you to join the seminary." He widened his eyes. "Can you imagine what that revelation would do to her?"

"I guess." I shrugged.

"She knows how this shit works. Don't let her smiling, cookie-making, mothering ass fool you. She's just as lethal and cutthroat as Dad—maybe not _as_ . . . close, though."

"What?" I was confused.

He put his hands up. "A story for another time." Regardless of what was going on, he wore a smile. "I wanted to talk to you about that other shit—last night?"

"What about it?" I didn't want to think about that at all.

He waved a hand. "I don't…I don't really give a shit anymore—another time. I'm exhausted."

"What happened with Katie?"

He huffed. "She was so upset…I put her to bed before I came here. She's at my place . . . Raul didn't take it well, not that I thought he would. He cried, threw shit . . . I was good, though. I didn't lose my temper. _Aro_ tackled his ass to the ground."

I chuckled. "What else? Are you guys back together, what?"

"We're gonna take it one day at a time, figure shit out as we go, but…yes, we're together."

"Congrats, man." I gave him a hug. "I'm happy for you."

He patted my back, leaving the embrace. "Imma head out now. Just wanted to say wassup before I did." He scratched his head, looking behind me to the guest room.

I turned to see Amelia in the doorway, my t-shirt reaching her knees, and my sweats too big for her. She was adorable. "Hi." She waved to Sonny.

"'Sup?" He put his hand up. "I'm out."

"All right." I watched him go down the hall, and then turned back to Amelia.

"My close friends call me Amy . . . I just wanted you to know that."

I grinned. "I like Amelia . . . people call me Dame."

"I heard." She stared down to her feet. Her socks were pink with purple polka dots—cute as fuck.

"Did you…maybe wanna watch TV, or…?" I wasn't sure if she was tired, wired, or what.

"Sure. We can do that."

After putting the TV on in the downstairs den—away from everyone and the bedrooms—I left her with the remote to find something. It wasn't too late. At only a quarter past eleven, I entered the kitchen for some sodas. Mom and Dad sat with Aro, drinking coffee and chatting. Kylie and Peto were nowhere to be found.

"Damion." Mom left the table.

"I'm fine." I didn't want her to apologize or feel badly about what she did, no matter how badly _I_ felt about it.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm okay," I said. "You don't hit that hard."

"I should have had more faith in you." She held my hand. "I just—I thought…_well, I don't want you to know what I thought_." She chuckled nervously.

Looking over her head, I saw that Dad was mouthing some shit to me. I couldn't make it out, but then Aro snapped his fingers toward Mom before he hugged himself.

"It's okay." I wrapped my arms around my mother. "I know you didn't mean it." I rubbed her back.

She hummed, holding me tightly. "I love you, baby."

"Love you, too." I went to let go, but she wouldn't. "Mom…?"

"Sorry." She smiled, going back to the table.

"I should get going . . . Peto!" Aro shouted for his son. "We're leaving!"

I grabbed two sodas out the fridge along with some chips from the cupboard.

"Oh, I should make sure Amelia is set," Mom said, about to leave her seat.

Dad stopped her. "Dame's got it—you gave her some sweats?"

I nodded. "We'll be downstairs." I went to leave.

"Hold up." Aro caught me. "Thank you." I got a hug from him, too. "I appreciate what you did, Dame."

I nodded, standing there awkwardly.

"We'll meet for lunch this week." He punched my shoulder. "I'll have something for you."

I furrowed my brow, looking to Dad. He silently rubbed his thumb to his fingertips, indicating money. "Oh…" Aro didn't have to pay me.

"You did good, kid." He met up with Peto in the hall, and then I heard them leave.

All of which just invited Kylie to come into the kitchen, still crying her eyes out. "He's leaving tomorrow, and then what just happened . . . I can't—not—without him." She broke down.

"Oh, honey." Mom ran to her. "We all had a long day. . . You'll see Peto before he leaves. But let's go put you in bed . . . You guys can hang out all day tomorrow." She ushered my sister down the hall.

"You all right?" Dad asked.

I found myself smiling. "Yes."

"That was some shit I saw."

"It was just a kiss." I tried to be nonchalant.

"All right." He nodded. "It looked like more than that, but OK." He rose from his chair, coming toward me. "Who were you tonight?"

For the first time since it happened, I thought about that. "Damion."

"And…?" He was waiting for something—something I couldn't give him.

Because even if I was myself, nothing was different.

I still didn't feel bad for ridding the world of Joe, although there was no thrill in doing it either.

Deep down, I knew I had a choice.

Joe didn't have to die.

But he did anyway.

Because I wanted him dead.

And I wouldn't make any apologies for that.

"It is what it is…" I trailed off, on my way out the kitchen. "Plus . . . you would have done it anyway."

He nodded.

I stepped closer to him. "I'm glad I didn't scare her away."

"If you didn't tonight, you probably won't . . . that should tell you something."

I didn't understand what he meant. "Uh, well, that shit with Mom…"

"Women don't care about that shit."

"What?"

He smiled. "You think you were punked by your mother, her doing it in front of your girl. But . . . women don't give a fuck about that shit. It's inconsequential. If anything, her heart broke _for you_. Understand?"

I didn't. "Okay."

"What you did by the theater? That proved how big your balls are . . . taking a hit from your moms? That makes 'em even bigger." He guffawed but composed himself quickly.

I quirked a brow. "Did you smoke again?"

"Yeah, but you scared me straight when you called, so…" He grabbed Amelia's nine from his back. "This is nice. Your mother used to have one just like this." He handed it back. "Silencer soldered on . . . it's illegal, assasin's pistol. I thought about getting one for Kylie . . . but it'd just scare the shit outta her."

I placed the soda in the crook of my arm to hide the nine under my tank.

"I'll do my best to keep your mother from disturbing youse." He gave me a look, almost conspiratorial. "And in the morning, you can drive Amelia home—meet her father."

"Okay," I said. "But I know Luke . . . in passing from the club—"

"That was before . . . show your respect, talk to him as Shorty's pops." He shrugged. "You know how fast things go around here."

I laughed. "I know you work your magic—get things to go quickly. People are willing to move mountains for the Skip."

"Yeah, well . . . two weeks, two years—fuck it." His eyes were glazed over, and he wore the widest smile. Then he shook his head, looking back to me. "You have to follow your gut, always."

"Uh . . ." His message was cryptic and, again, confusing. "What are we talking about?"

He walked to me, turning the kitchen light off. "You'll know . . ." He patted my back. "Goodnight."

"'Night." I shook my head, watching him go. He disappeared into Kylie's room, and then I ran downstairs.

Amelia was curled up in a blanket on the couch. _Saturday Night Live_ was on, the room was dark despite the TV, and it looked like she was asleep.

Slightly disappointed, I placed the snacks down and sat next to her, wondering if I should wake her up or bring her up to the guest room. "Amelia," I whispered, practically breathed.

"You up?" I asked, moving the blanket to see her face. Her eyes were closed, she was breathing evenly, but then she stirred.

I backed up so it didn't look like I was in her face, even if I was waiting with bated breath for her to open those pretty brown eyes.

"Sorry." She cleared her throat, sitting up.

"No…" I waved it off. "It's been a long day."

She grinned. "It has…" She rested her head back.

"You like _SNL_?" I asked. "It's one of my favorite shows."

"Mine, too," she said, folding her legs under herself.

Content, I kept my eyes on the television, even if I felt all this tension to my left. It was an odd feeling, almost like someone was staring at me, only Amelia watched the screen, too. She was awake now, but I didn't want to excuse her—say it was okay she go to bed, no matter how tired she was.

I was selfish, wanting to spend every second I could with her. "There's soda…" I hoped the caffeine would wake her up.

"Thanks." She never went for it, but then giggled—actually paying attention to the show. I laughed a light laugh along with her, pretending that I was doing the same.

Leaning back, I placed my feet on the coffee table. "Oh, this belongs to you." I handed her the nine.

She grimaced, delicately taking it from me. "Should I get rid of this?"

"Probably," I whispered, reaching out to hold a lock of her hair. "Crazy night, huh?"

"Tonight . . . I didn't see anything." She raised a brow. "That's what I'll tell my father and anyone who asks me."

"Okay." I didn't know what to say to that. "That's probably wise."

She nodded, looking down to her lap.

Swallowing my nerves, I said, "We should go to lunch tomorrow, before I take you home?"

"I'd like that." She grinned from over her shoulder, that same coy smirk was back—the one that threatened to drive me crazy.

"A do-over?" I asked. "Anywhere you wanna go—Manhattan's not off limits either."

"There's a place in Jersey that has the best sandwiches—"

"No." I leaned toward her a bit. "I meant, like a date. We could try this again."

"Sure . . . But Harold's really has great sandwiches," she giggled. "A date is what you make of it. It's not all . . . flowers and expensive restaurants."

"You said you've dated," I paused, "you go on a lot of dates?"

"I said I didn't." She pulled the blanket up.

"Oh . . . but I'd say you're an expert. I don't think I've ever been on a date before. I was with Julie—" I hated that I said her name, but Amelia didn't frown or anything, "since we were kids. We'd go out for occasions . . . I'm afraid I wasn't the best boyfriend."

Amelia hummed.

Compelled, I kept talking. "We morphed into—into friends who'd fuck sometimes." I shrugged, my face falling, because the only relationship I'd ever had was garbage. She may not realize it now, but Julie did the right thing. We eventually loved each other, yet even I knew Julie was never in love with me either. We fear the unknown, and we were never alone.

"Why—why did she break up with you?"

I sighed. "She thought I was cheating."

"Were you?"

"Nope," I said. "I was taught . . . that if I wasn't happy in a relationship to leave, not sleep around. Plus, karma . . . I'd hate to be done dirty. You know?"

She nodded. "I do."

"I also respected her. But…I'd sneak away. I had shit to do sometimes—things she wouldn't understand, things I couldn't tell her." I looked back to the TV.

Amelia hit my leg. "I hate to sound cliché, but her loss is my gain."

I chuckled. "How much wine_ did_ you have with dinner?"

"Shut up." She got me with a pillow.

"You'll see tomorrow, and then you'll be like, 'Yuck! I kissed that loser'." I tried to mimic her, which made her laugh loudly.

"Never."

"Okay…" I just smiled at her. I couldn't help it.

"Um." She turned back to the TV,_ my_ staring making her uncomfortable.

Realizing that, and not interested in _SNL_ at all, I sat back again—promising to behave myself as I closed my eyes and tried to think of things to say. At least if I was being awkward or quiet, I had an excuse, pretending to be asleep. Then she'd speak up—ask me something—and I'd open my eyes.

When the couch dipped beside me, I got nervous—wondering if she was going to leave. I was about to open my eyes, but then I felt her. She scooted to straddle my lap, resting her hands around my neck.

"Hi," I said, reaching for her gorgeous face.

She grinned. "Hey."

Our kisses were soft and chaste . . . at first. But my hands had a mind of their own—pulling her hair, holding her close, the tightest I could, never wanting to let go, and yet roaming down her back.

When I reached into her sweats and grabbed her ass to push her down onto me, I paused—my misdeeds from the night before coming back to haunt me. The last thing I wanted to do was fuck things up with Amelia.

Our lip-lock, now frenzied, carried on, but then…

Amelia pulled back, her lips still pursed, to take off my glasses. "Look at you." She rubbed my cheek.

I took my glasses from her to toss them onto the coffee table.

"You're—you're so handsome." She moved her hips, creating a friction.

I grasped her face, bringing her back to me. "You're gorgeous, funny, honest…Please tell me you're real," I whispered.

"I am." She pushed her tits into my chest. "Maybe we should stop . . . we're in your parents' house." She kept her tone hushed, too.

"They went to bed, but I get it. We can—" I brought her over to my side, which made her smile wide, "stop." I patted her head. "Be good."

She laughed and hit my arm. "You know what I mean."

"I do," I agreed and pulled her into me. "We can snuggle . . . if that's cool."

"Definitely." She curled into my side.

She smelled amazing, although I didn't know the perfume. "What are you wearing? Your perfume?" I sniffed her, fast and close like I was a dog.

"Happy," she giggled, holding my face, and I couldn't believe how chill, how awesome this was. I wasn't uncomfortable anymore, just wary—wanting and needing to behave.

We both got quiet again. I had my arm draped over her, and we lay on the couch. She was on her back, half-under me, and I rested my head on my palm. Without my glasses, I couldn't see the TV for shit. But fuck, there was no way I was moving to grab them. She was soft, her curves fitting perfectly to my body.

A few minutes later, Amelia let out a low groan, and something caught my eye. She'd clamped her thighs closed before she turned over. "You call that cuddling? This is cuddling." She inched her ass into my middle, leaving her back to me.

"Whichever way . . . I just like having you here." I caught myself—I didn't squeeze the hip I so desperately wanted to, nor did I push my half-wood into her ass. But my eyes did find her earlobe, and I nuzzled my nose to it—just under her ear, placing a soft kiss on her neck.

She sighed, tilting her head and exposing more of her skin. I kissed along her neck, and she reached back to hold my head there. My lips trailed across her cheek and found her mouth . . .

"Christ . . . you're driving me crazy."

"You?" I asked in disbelief, going in to explore her mouth. She moaned into mine, trying to pull me on top of her. That's when I stopped. "Hey, uh—"

"What's wrong?" she panted, trying to sit up.

I was still semi-pinning her down.

"Everything okay?" Her eyes widened. "Oh, you're not ready. I'm so stupid."

I laughed. "I don't know what guys you know, but we're _always_ ready—"

"I meant because of your break-up."

"Me too." I pecked her lips. "I just—I don't wanna do something…" I held her chin, gazing into her eyes.

She shook her head. "You won't."

"Something you might regret." I placed another gentle kiss on her lips.

"_I_ won't." She smiled. "You dig honesty, right?"

"I do," I said, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, and kissing her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, and then her lips once more. "I'm sorry."

"It's nice," she whispered. "And . . . whether or not you call me tomorrow, or the next day . . . I want you now, more than, more than I've ever wanted anyone." She gulped, looking away, fisting my shirt.

"I'd call," I nodded, turning her back to me, "tomorrow, the day after, next week . . ." Then I realized something. "How long has it been?"

"Like . . . almost a year."

"Okay." I leaned away from her, thinking and resting my forearm to my head. I knew I was getting ahead of myself. But if the reality of it was that we'd fuck and that'd be it, then I didn't want that.

And who said that had to be it?

She appeared in my face. "Hey…it's okay. We don't have to—"

"Shhh." I touched her mouth, tracing her bottom lip. "I want to make you feel good. I want to hear you say my name, make you come…but if—"

"I won't tell you to stop." She grasped my hand, placing it on her breast.

I palmed and squeezed, making her hiss. "Take this off."

She shook her head. "I'll take my bra off, but—"

I sucked my teeth, hating that we were here and not somewhere private. "I can't fuck you the way I want to."

"How's that?" She turned, reaching back, but then I helped her, unclasping and running my hands up her bare back. Her skin was smooth, like silk under my fingertips. Amelia hummed, a slight shiver making her tremble.

"First, I want you naked . . . I need to see all of you." I kissed the side of her neck. "So I can play with these tits." My hands traveled to her front, lightly grazing her nipples with my palms. "I'd pinch and pull like this…" My touch was firm, yanking those fuckers with some force. I didn't mean to be as rough, but she dug it.

"Fuck." She melted against me. "What else…" She held my head to her.

I nipped at her jaw, claiming that mouth again while my fingers tweaked her nipples. They were a nice size—not crazy big or small, her tits fit perfectly in the palms of my hands. "Are you wet?"

Amelia's eyes never left mine as she grabbed my hand and put it down my pants she was wearing, under her panties.

My chest was tight with just how excited I was, and yet my touch was gentle this time. My finger lightly slid down her lips. They were soft, her pussy bare, and she was soaked. "Yeah, you are… Because of me?" I whispered.

"Yes." Amelia spread her legs, grabbing the blanket to quickly cover us.

Now that she was open, my finger had more places to explore. She hissed when my thumb passed her clit. "You like that?"

"Yeah." She shook for a second.

It made me smile. "Can I finger you?"

"Christ—Damion." She grabbed my hand, making my finger enter her. "Fuck."

Yeah, fuck, I agreed—she was snug.

My head dipped to the side, coming around to kiss that mouth—my finger moving in and out of her at a slow pace, my thumb tracing circles, and my other hand was under her shirt, pulling her nipple.

And I was in heaven, with her just sitting between my legs here on the couch.

When she started clawing at me, her legs the widest they could go, she moaned through her nose and yet into my mouth. "Oh God…" Her hips bucked, and I increased pressure and speed—quickly inserting another finger. "Shit." She held my hand, which was knuckles deep while her pussy milked my fingers. "Fuck." Her hips rose, came back down, and then up . . .

Amelia was coming and fucking my hand at the same time, which was the hottest thing ever.

Her come face was gorgeous, and I couldn't take my eyes off her—content to stare into her eyes. Meanwhile, I wanted to calm down. I got her off, made her happy, made her smile . . . My heart was threatening to beat right out of my chest, and I needed to be stopped, or slapped back into reality.

"That was—that was amazing," she said.

I didn't reply, my hand still cupping her pussy.

She caught my gaze, her chest still heaving. "Kiss me."

My hand left her, grasping onto her biceps to bring her up to me. She wrapped her arms around me, and then she started kissing up, down, and around my neck.

My eyes rolled back with a flutter, turning away—to give her more access. But she lifted my tank away from me. I let her take it off, and then her lips trailed lower—licking, biting, and kissing my chest.

Afraid to make the wrong move, I kept my hands high—pushing and playing with her hair. It tickled my skin and felt crazy good.

She kept scooting lower and lower until she palmed my dick. Without words, or any confirmation from me, she lifted me out of my sweats.

She could have me, I thought.

"I was right." She jacked my dick, and my body jolted—her hand was fan-fucking-tastic. That was, until she placed her mouth on me. She took me back slow while I held my breath—the visual alone threatening to make me come. Her eyes met mine, and my cock hit her tonsils.

"You're beautiful," I managed to say, rubbing her cheek with my thumb, encouraging her to take it all.

She pulled back, moaning, only to come back down, using her hand to jack what she couldn't fit in her mouth.

Ready to explode, my body cringed back, grasping onto her arm and pulling her up again. "Shit . . ."

She giggled. "I was enjoying myself."

I blew out a slow breath, taking my hands off her. "Let's calm down a second." Truthfully, I was about to blow my load.

"It's okay . . . let me get you off." She grinned, rubbing her hands up my chest, biting my chin.

My lips caught hers, and I wanted to devour her. Our kisses became crazy, sloppy. We were both making noises, our bodies rocking together, and I hoped no one heard.

But then, I didn't give a fuck.

I tossed Amelia onto her back, and then pulled her sweats away. Her pussy was beautiful, bare, glistening in the light glow of the television. My hand went back there, and she was even wetter—my fingers riding that slippery slope.

"Damn." I grunted, pushing her t-shirt up with my nose and then my teeth. Her tits were perfect, and her nipples tasted amazing—like Amelia with a hint of that Happy perfume. "Can I fuck you?" I barely got the words out.

"Yes." She moaned, digging her nails into my shoulders.

Amelia kept trying to keep us covered with that blanket, but I didn't give a shit. My cock was still hanging out of my pants, so I grasped it, easing my hips between her thighs.

I held myself up, leaning my hand on the arm of the couch, reaching over her. "You're sure?" I briefly thought about running upstairs for a condom. But then I realized that I just didn't give a fuck—not right now. And if she wasn't worried . . . maybe I had no reason to be either.

"Fuck, Damion—" She sat up, crashing her mouth to mine. Her hands grabbed at me, pulled me closer and closer, until my dick was perched against her pussy.

I paused, stopped kissing her, and leaned my forehead to hers. I wanted to see her—the face she'd make.

"Damion—" She squirmed.

And I pushed forward, entering her with ease. Her shit was tight, but she was so fucking wet, I glided right in—needing a minute. "You—" I gulped, afraid for my life. What was this woman doing to me?

"Christ…you feel…oh my God." She hugged my head to her neck.

I rested there, slowly moving my hips.

And each time I'd dig into her, I'd go deeper and deeper.

"Faster!"

"No." I stopped, making her look at me. "Be quiet." My hips picked up the pace a little.

"Oh, fuck—"

I groaned, placing my hand over her mouth as I went faster. She loved that shit—moaning, humming, my name sounding all muffled and yet perfect.

And she was an enigma to me.

She saw what I'd done.

Amelia didn't see me ice Joe, but she was there before it happened. She saw me splattered with Joe's blood. She helped me. She didn't run—and she saw more of me, more of Damion, than anyone else ever had. Maybe we hadn't talked much, maybe I didn't say much, but she knew . . .

And she was under me, would be screaming in ecstasy if I moved my hand . . .

All because of what I was doing.

Something like a growl vibrated from my chest as I picked up her leg, bringing it over my shoulder—I couldn't get close enough, I couldn't get in deep enough, and I wanted more, so much-fucking-more.

"Damion." It was a whine, and I thought she was going to cry, but then I felt her grip me even tighter, felt her pulsating around me. Her head was thrown back, her chin up, her mouth open, her eyes closed . . . and then she let out a squeak, which I thought was—not only sexy—but adorable. "I'm yours . . ."

That brought me back down to earth. "What?" I was out of breath from holding it, in awe of her.

"Oh, I dunno." She started rocking against me.

"You're mine?" I asked, reaching between us, slowing down, and playing with her clit. "Tell me."

"Damion…yes." She swallowed, blowing out a breath.

"Watch yourself . . . I might keep you." I hoped that was an option.

"Promise?" She sat up, pushing me.

I nodded, falling back so she could straddle me. "Make yourself come again." My hands lifted her shirt, my mouth attacking her breasts.

"Oh, yes . . ." She scratched down my back, picking up a rhythm with her hips.

The way they rolled . . .

"Um…" She'd slowed. "Fuck—" And that wasn't a good one.

"What?" I asked, hoping no one was behind us.

She pushed against me. "I'm stupid—I mean, I'm on the pill."

"I'm clean." I rushed out, hoping she was, too. But who was I kidding? As long as my dick fell off afterward—after we fucked . . .

"Thank Christ—me too." She kissed me roughly, passionately . . . "It's been forever. Oh my God," she whined, sounding squeaky and out of breath. "I was tested, and I haven't been with—with anyone in—"

"Shut the fuck up." My hands ran up her back, up to her shoulders, and then down—holding her, my hips matching hers. "Shit." She just felt too good.

"Come inside me," she whispered, nibbling my ear. "I want it—I want you—I want—I want—" She threw her head back, only to come down on me hard. "Fuck."

My heart stopped, my body in a brief state of shock. Overcome with that, so excited, fucking thrilled by her request, I growled, throwing her back down. My cock found her fast, and I fucked her against the couch. She was practically squashed by me, but she was fine—going just as wild as I was.

It was perfect . . .

She was perfect . . .

Her pussy . . . my-fucking-God.

"Amelia…" I was going to come, felt the fire starting and spreading from my gut. With one, two, three long, mad-hard strokes, I pulled her hair—gaining access to her neck before I bit down. I needed to—to muffle my scream, which didn't stop her from moaning out a loud one when I came.

FUCK . . . I thought, and that was about it.

My mind blank for nearly the first time ever.

"Hmmm." She planted this rough, forceful kiss on my lips. "Damion...Damion...Damion. My God."

I huffed out breath after breath into her neck. "Shit." Even in the dark, I could see where I marked her.

"What?" she asked.

I pulled out and lifted my pants, and then I sat back. "I—I'm sorry."

"For what?" She pushed her shirt down, covering herself. "That was—that _was_ . . ." she laughed.

I shook my head, pointing. "I—you have—" It was a cross between a hickey and a large bite. "I left a mark."

She cupped her neck. "Maybe—maybe Kylie has a turtleneck?" She was a genius.

"I bet she does." I nodded, grabbing her sweats from the floor.

After helping her into them, she excused herself to the bathroom. While she was gone, I started to straighten up the den. There were pillows everywhere, a fucking wet spot on the sofa, and there was jizz on that blanket. Shit. It's not even like I could turn the cushion over. The other side didn't match.

I had to sneak up into the kitchen for paper towels.

"Yo!"

"Ahhh!" I screamed like a girl. "You scared the shit out of me."

My father laughed at me.

"What are you doing up?" Maybe Sonny had experience in this department, but I didn't. I never had the nerve, or the opportunity to get lucky in this house. Julie's parents were never home, so we'd go there.

"Couldn't sleep," he muttered, going into the fridge.

"Mom up?" I was nervous as fuck when I should be rejoicing.

He shook his head. "She took a pill. She knocked out a while ago." He jerked his chin. "What's with all the paper towels?"

"I spilled my soda...on the couch."

"Downstairs?" He wore a sad grimace. "That's the nice one."

"I'm sorry."

He waved a hand, leaving the kitchen with his bottle of water.

Not sure what I was worried about, I thanked God we had a huge house. Chances are no one heard us and it was all in my head. If anything, Mom would have heard . . .

I thanked the Lord for Ambien as I went back to the den.

Amelia was sipping from the can of Pepsi when I entered.

"Hey."

She smiled at me, but then her face fell, looking about the room. "I can't believe we did this."

The sofa was fucked. "Yeah."

While I took the blanket into the garage—to bury it under a bunch of dirty towels—Amelia blotted the cushion with the paper towels.

"That was from you," I said, smirking and sitting next to her.

"No way."

"Yup." I pulled her into my side, because I didn't care about that shit anymore. "Sleep in my room."

"Oh . . . I can't. It's bad enough—"

"Then we'll stay here." I trapped her, wrapping both of my legs around her. "Pretend we fell asleep watching TV."

She turned in my arms. "I feel like I've known you longer than just today." For some reason she looked sad.

"I know what you mean." I wasn't sure if we were on the same page, but I knew I liked her a lot more than just meeting her at dinner.

She kissed my forehead. "Your mother likes me, and I'd hate to lose her respect." She slid away, getting onto her feet. "Walk me up to my room?"

I nodded, dragging my lazy ass away from the couch.

We had to be crazy quiet when we got upstairs, and I did linger by her door—hoping she'd open up and pull me in.

When a few minutes turned creepy, I left—grabbing my cigarettes to go outside. It'd been hours since I had one, and I was dying. Yet, I didn't notice while I was with Amelia.

It was colder than it was earlier, but I was good—still a little overheated and yet I wore a tank.

Under the stars, I lay on the grass—content to smoke, my mind blank.

And I was truly happy—like her perfume—for the first time in a long time.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts...**

**We hear from Edward next!**


	13. Old Habits, New Days

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA. **

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Thirteen: Old Habits, New Days**

**Edward POV**

_**A**_t the club—_it seems like we're always at the fucking club_—I sat at a table with my brother and Aro while I ate a Chicken Parmesan hero. They were watching the girls, and I enjoyed my sandwich.

As I reached for my scotch to wash it all down, my gaze landed on Georgie.

Maybe I should jump or scream or be shocked in some way.

Because, my son either has blatant disregard for the things I say, or I was looking at a fucking ghost.

"Skip." He smiled, coming over to put his hand out.

My hands were full. "Sit." I kicked a chair out for him.

Before his ass even touched the seat, Sonny came walking out of the office. He caught my stare, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

_Maybe I should have given the order to Dame._

"What can I do for you?" Georgie asked.

I stared at Sonny, who was fast to go behind the bar. "How are things? My son treating you well?" Sonny hasn't been a capo for that long, a little under two years now, and I'm always asking his guys how things are going.

Georgie nodded.

"Whoa!" Aro exclaimed, just as shocked as I was. "I'm surprised to see you—Ay, get this boy a drink." My friend was jovial, being nice to the man whose days were numbered.

Georgie smiled wide, getting to sit at the cool kids' table.

I put my food down and then grabbed a napkin to wipe my mouth. "Lemme talk to you," I spoke to Georgie.

He furrowed his brow. "Everything okay?"

I grinned down to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Yeah…I gotta job for ya—need you to help me out with something. Sonny, too."

"Cool."

Turning back to the rest of them, I pointed to my food. "If you motherfuckers touch my shit…" I needed to make sure those _gavones_—Carlisle and Aro, who said they were _not_ hungry—didn't eat my food.

Aro pretended he was going for it, and my hand twitched to my nine. "Look at you...over food," he laughed.

"Fuck you." When I left the table, I knew Georgie was following, and I didn't bother seeking Sonny out.

He entered the office before me. "Have a seat," I said, slowly turning to shut and lock the door.

Georgie did as I said, sighing and leaning his hands on his thighs, facing the desk. "It's truly an honor, sir."

I chuckled, reaching for my waist. "It's nothing big, really . . . I'm sure you've heard about Joe."

He nodded, half-turning back to me, while I cocked the mag back and wondered how he knew about _that_ shit. "Fuck!" His eyes went wide, seeing my nine.

Sadly, he didn't have another second to react or piss his pants. The shot rang loudly through the air. Blood splattered, Georgie letting out a grunt, before he fell forward and out of the chair.

My head tilted to the side as I stared at him and put my nine back into my waist—face down, blood pooling around his head, and there was some brain matter on the ground, too. Then I sighed, going into the desk for a pair of gloves.

After putting them on, I searched his pockets. He only had three hundred bucks on him, and I took his pinky ring, too.

_It's not like he'll need it. _

Then I got busy rubbing some hand sanitizer into my palms.

Knowing Sonny also has a key, I locked the office up behind myself—making sure no one got to see my son's surprise before he did. He's cleaning that shit up.

Nothing was amiss when I left. The music was still mad loud, walls pumping with the force of the beats—the techno garbage Sonny has them play.

Seeing Georgie really fucked with my mood. Today, all this week, I've been happy—I'm about to be a grandpa. But how did Sonny hide Georgie from me for nearly a week?

It's bad enough my buddy Joe thinks I sent Joe Jr. and David—his sons—out to California to settle some shit, while I also said I wanted to give Joe Jr. and Kylie some space. He's not as close to his kids as one might think. If he doesn't see them around, he just assumes they're okay—keeping to themselves. I was running out of time as far as Joe Sr. and his oldest son Chris were concerned—that little fucker asks too many questions. I had a feeling he knew his brothers were dead.

When I approached the table, Caius was there, and he was eyeing my dinner. "Don't even think about it," I said.

Caius put his hands up. "It's not like I have a wife to cook for me…"

"Don't pull the widower card." I pointed. "That was good for six months max. You hungry? Fuckin' order something." I bit into my sandwich. We always gotta hear about his dead wife, and that shit is depressing as fuck; meanwhile, he's bumping different chicks off every night. Caius and Nunzio brag. Nunz is divorced, or he was never married, and only said they were. I don't remember, but her name was hard to forget. Dana was the biggest cooz walking around this joint twenty years ago. And now I hear the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. But when does it ever? All I know is Nunzio mouthed off to Sonny, and my son mentioned something about giving Bianca a job here. It was ugly, but Caius broke it up. "Have one your chicks cook for you. Your daughter don't cook?" I think Stephanie is staying with him these days.

He smirked, giving me a look. "That princess? Are you kidding? I can't fucking wait until she gets married." He sipped from my drink, and that was okay. I snapped my fingers for the waitress' attention, and she knew to bring another round. "She's going to be thirty-three . . ." he sighed, like it was the end of the world. "I hoped, you know, since she doesn't look thirty-three . . . maybe she'd hit it off with Sonny. I'm happy those kids could make it work, though, as fucked as the situation is." He referred to Katie and my son.

"Why you here and not at Twilight?" I asked, and then I was pushed. The chick grinding into Aro hit me with her elbow. "Watch it." I pushed back, 'cause I'm a rude fuck like that. "Go to the private room." On second glance, Shorty looked way too young to be dancing here. "Who's this?"

Aro kissed her hand, slipping a bill into her palm as she left his lap. "This is Layla."

I raised a brow, knowing that's the chick who had it rough—was lumped up a while back. "How you doin', hon?"

She clammed up as soon as I spoke. "Um—I'm all right."

"My son treating you okay?"

"Of-of course." She nodded. "How are you, Mr. Cullen?"

I leaned back, reaching into my pocket.

"You want a dance?" She lifted her leg to straddle me.

I put my hand up, giving her the money I stole from Georgie.

"What's this for?" She looked to Aro.

"For your time," I said. "Thank you for chatting—you're quite the conversationalist."

"Thank you?" It sounded like a question.

I winked, going back to my food.

She ran along while Aro stared after her. "She ain't the best dancer—fuck, she's got the smallest tits here."

I honestly didn't care. "So?"

He leaned into my ear. "Big tips are with the lap dances. She'll only dance on stage since . . . but she trusts me, dances for me, and then I'm two bills short—most I ever spent on a dance."

I patted his back. "That's nice of you—I'm sure Saint Peter will remember that."

"I do what I can," he said, and we both looked over to Carlisle who was talking to Misty. They were having a discussion about something, her sitting across from him, nodding her head with her legs crossed. "She needed legal advice." Aro jerked a thumb. "Something about a DUI."

I nodded, looking up at Sonny who appeared in front of me. "I left something in your office." I had a mouthful.

He looked confused. "You—"

As I swallowed, I reached for my drink. "Go look . . . it's not your birthday, but . . . Surprise!" I sipped from the glass, smiling around the rim.

He gnashed his teeth together. "Can I speak with you?" He gazed at my table companions. "Privately?"

I grinned at that smart-ass motherfucker. "Sure, I'll bite."

He stomped off to the back, and I followed after him.

Sonny paused for a brief moment, staring down to the floor, but he recovered quickly to hold his forehead.

I closed the door. "That should have been taken care of last week. Whatta ya got, baby brain?" I think there was a period of time after Sonny was born where I'd slowed down—had more compassion, although I think that lasted a week at best.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might have had a reason?" He whipped around to face me.

My smile stayed in place as I rested my ass on the desk. "I told you last Sunday, and yet—here we are, five days later, and that fucker—" I kicked Georgie's foot, "was still breathing."

He nodded. "I had a reason."

"Then you should have conferred with me five days ago." I walked toward the door. "Get rid of it."

"When I worked it all out, I was going to call a sit-down."

I slowly turned back to him—I did say I'd bite. "And what was this plan? Your reason to keep him alive?"

He had his hands on his hips, staring at the ceiling. Sonny was pissed. "I was going to have Georgie take care of Joe and Chris—figure out a way to take out the wife, too—since now we have all these bodies piling up. Then, I was going to take care of Georgie myself."

I pursed my lips. "Go after them separately, pick 'em off one by one. Suffocate, put 'em all in a car, and then light it up?"

He raised a brow. "I hadn't thought of that."

I put my hand out, gesturing—metaphorically giving him the idea. "There you go . . . make it happen. No accelerants. Poke a hole in the gas tank, or just make them disappear."

"The wife has to go—Marissa?" he asked, looking glum. "There's no way around it?"

I tapped my chin. "If you, your brother, and me—if we all disappeared, do you think your mother would stop looking for us, asking questions?"

He shook his head.

I pointed to my temple. "Think!"

"My mind's always on money."

"You need to start learning how to cover your ass," I said. "Money's great, but it won't keep you outta the can—no matter how much you have. You feel me? Knowledge is power. The more people know, the more attention you get, the more power they have over you. The more flags raised, questions asked—the same result. C.Y.A: Cover. Your. Ass."

He shook his head again. "This is all Dame's fault. He didn't have to ice Joe—"

I sighed. "He did the right thing…was put in a situation—"

"He was just waiting for an opportunity!" Sonny shouted. "He was calculating, knew Joe'd seek Kylie out—just waiting for the chance, and yet you praise him..."

"I don't praise anyone," I whispered. "Maybe your mother's ass . . . Why? You jealous?" I asked, cocking a brow. "You didn't get to do it."

Sonny got quiet.

"You need me to praise you?" I asked.

He snorted, looking up to the ceiling for answers again.

I stepped closer to him. "You think you're tough shit—you and your brother. Raise your voice to me again, and I'll knock you the fuck down. You hear me, Santino?" I grasped his chin, making him face me. "You're old enough. You know how it works. I shouldn't have to be telling you any of this shit." I let go, backing off and away. "Wise up."

With Sonny, I only feed him compliments when they're truly warranted. If I praise him all the time, he'll get cocky. His head'll get big, and that's when mistakes are made—thinking you're above it all.

I'm hard on him because I have to be—because this will all be his one day.

And he needs to learn.

I may act like a prick, but I'm proud of both my boys equally and for different reasons. They're always in competition with each other, and I don't know why. Maybe I seem nicer to Damion, but that's only because of his sensitive nature, and that's not really a good thing. It sucks.

The more I'm myself around Damion, the more he backs away, and I can't make heads or tails of that shit either.

Still, I hope one day he'll know me.

Bella says he fears me, always has and always will; however, I've never given Damion a reason to fear me.

Sonny, on the other hand, fuck yeah. He's seen me in action, and we've duked it out before over some stupid shit.

"But I have ideas . . . some. Little by little, I mean, Dad. I dig the way things are running. But there are better, legal ways of doing business…this is all so old school."

I widened my arms. "Old school? It's old and is the way we do things now, because it works. If it didn't, we'd do things differently."

He laughed. "That's not even an answer. I'm telling you. I can make you just as much money—maybe more if we went legit."

"Katie's fucking with your head." I shook mine.

"Can we just sit down? Lemme run ideas by you."

"Look…" I held my lips, wondering how to word this properly. "When I'm dead, _whoever_ can do it their way. I'm here now. I'm running shit the way I see fit. Are the Feds knocking on your door?"

He didn't reply.

"Are they?"

"Not lately," he said.

"Not ever." I sucked my teeth. "They've never fucking knocked on your shit." Ever since he joined Aro's crew, I've been double- and triple-checking everything he's ever done—made sure he stayed out of trouble. "I won't always be around, okay? Which means, you need to cover your ass—"

"But if I didn't need to cover—"

"_Cover_ your ass, and then you can do what the fuck you want." I wiped my hands clean. "You make money with the brokerage. You get tribute from your guys. You draw a salary here as manager, and you're studying for the bar—your uncle will set you up with a nice office. You'll be practicing law . . . You've made some money through the years, too. Sonny, you have no room to complain. I made it so people do _for _you. People bend and break laws, so _you don't have to_. Me? I used to get a kick out of it. But that's what makes me, me, and you—you." I patted his shoulder, and eventually put my arm around him. "You're good at what you do . . . what you're doing now."

"Thanks."

"I'm no genius—never claimed to be. But how—please enlighten me. Tell me how paying tribute, money laundering, and racketeering can be legalized? You tell me." I leaned my head to his.

He moved away from me. "Why should I waste my breath?"

I shrugged. "Try me." When he didn't elaborate, I stepped over Georgie and to the door. "Get him outta here before he starts to smell." But I turned back to him. "You're not gonna thank me? Surely you didn't wanna clip your buddy."

"Thanks," he whispered.

"You're welcome . . . and come by the house this week. Katie moves in and we don't see either one of youse."

"Katie . . . She loves Mom, gets along great with her, but…in limited capacity?" He scrunched his nose. "She wants to stay as far away from all of this as possible."

I smiled. "That's a pipe dream and a half. Good luck with that . . . But it's fucking with your mother's head. Tell Katie to stop by."

"All I can do is ask . . . It's—" His face fell. "I don't know."

"Baby high wore off?" I asked, my tone a bit softer, and that's how quickly I can make the transition now. It used to take longer. "It's only been a week. Raul still…heckling youse?"

"No, he backed off . . . and the baby…that's—that's just—I can't even describe that. I'm excited for the baby. But . . . Katie wants me to essentially change everything about myself—the company I keep, my job, my vocabulary—every-fucking-thing. You know how important family is to me, and she wants to keep us—our family: Katie, the baby, and me—away from you guys, _my_ family?" He looked to the ceiling. "It's hers, too. She's said—she wants Aro to be a grandfather, but not around all the time? She's scared shitless because of the bullshit her mother filled her head with; meanwhile, that bitch has been at my crib twice this week. Turning into Mom, which I don't think is a bad thing at all…it's a real fear of hers, getting tangled in shit. It's fear itself because she don't know. She only knows what her mother told her—"

"And you can't say shit until youse get married."

"No matter what I tell her . . ." He chuckled. "It's like I'm fourteen again—being so pleasing, trying my hardest to impress her. I didn't think it'd be like this."

I nodded. "You thought everything would be perfect—it'd all fall into place?"

"Katie's the one. I'm willing to make sacrifices. It's when she's not willing to meet me halfway . . . Fuck, we fight constantly. This—" he put his hands out, "is my respite—Eclipse. It's been a week, and it feels like ten fucking years."

No matter how he felt about it, I walked over and hugged him tightly. "First and foremost, remember that she's pregnant. I'm not making excuses, but their feelings tend to be amplified—the hormones and bullshit." I rubbed his back, leaning away. "And it has _only_ been a week."

Aro has always been so proud of his daughter—being independent. All her life, she never wanted or asked for anything from her father. That girl worked for everything she ever gained. Katie and Aro have a decent relationship. They meet for dinners a couple of times a month. They love each other and have that basic father/daughter relationship.

Honestly, I couldn't imagine not being in Kylie's business all the time. It'd drive me insane not knowing what she's up to. I know when she leaves—when she goes to Texas—I'll probably call her every other day.

Because twice a day, every day, would get on her nerves.

I know it drives Damion bananas, even if the kid only lets _me_ talk.

_And how many ways can you bitch about the weather?_

Surprisingly, all three of them are different with Bella. She can call, show up whenever she wants, and it's gravy. Me? Forget about it. Dad's being a nosy prick. Yet, I can chill with Sonny like this, and I think our relationship is better than . . . I guess what a normal father and son have.

"You have to give it time," I said. "You think everything was sunshine and roses with your mother and me at first?" I whistled. "I'm still surprised we survived our first years of marriage, and you came so fast . . . Don't get me wrong; we wanted ya real bad. We tried and tried." Thinking back, I laughed. "But…we were impatient. We knew we could have waited, that we had years ahead of us. Everything was just rush, rush, rush."

"Lemme guess . . . everyone else was having babies."

"Basically." I snorted. "But I think your mother and I were just—we were insane. I think we wanted to get married, have babies, just so we'd be tied together. That make sense?"

He nodded, grinning. "It's like a fairy tale."

"Ha!" I pushed him playfully. "You have no idea how many times we could have killed each other . . . We weren't together long at all. We got married after six weeks of fucking, and then we got pregnant with you after six months of marriage. The fast track."

"Regrets?" he asked.

I shook my head no.

"No…I get the fighting—that it's not as serious as it feels sometimes." He cracked a grin. "And making up? That's shit's awesome." He looked away, tongue-in-cheek.

"Oh . . . pregnant and all . . . the sex is still…?" I punched the air.

He laughed out loud, his face lighting up. "It's—it's actually a lot of fun, trying to get in there—find a groove. She's still sexy as hell, though—I'll tell you that. She's got my kid in there. How fuckin' cool is that?"

"It's really fucking cool," I admitted.

We were both in hysterics, and I held my stomach. "I love you, kid."

"I love you, too."

I sighed, my eyes trailing down to Georgie. "I'm gonna send Caius in. You tell him about Joe—staging the accident. Make it sound like he's in charge." I rolled my eyes.

"Why?" He made a face.

"'Cause…sometimes you gotta throw the old dogs a bone. He thinks you're in charge—over him, he might feel a certain way. Conspire _with_ him; don't order. Like I said, make it sound like it's his idea. I'll give him my blessing." I lightly smacked Sonny's cheek. "It'll be all right. You and Katie . . . you'll find _your_ groove soon enough. And if you don't? You don't. What can I say? Maybe you guys have a physical thing—maybe you grew apart."

"True…what can I do? Just hope for the best." He shrugged, looking to his cell. "Last week, it was like the end of the world." He seemed withdrawn suddenly. "Dad, I—"

"What is it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "We have love. We have good times and bad times—and it's true. It's only been a week, and last Sunday . . . The thought of her raising our kid with Raul? I was livid. The thought of never having Katie, I was heartbroken. But what if it just doesn't work out? A part of me . . . I don't know. I think I can accept it—come to terms with it." He covered his face with his hands to scream. "What does it mean?"

"I can't tell you that," I whispered. "You have to figure out what you want. But son, if you're not happy, chances are she isn't either."

"We're still getting married—"

"Not if you feel this way. Marriage isn't something you fight for just because of kids. Youse are doing this backwards—" I didn't know what to say to help him. "You and Katie were so in love back in the day, right?" He nodded, and I continued. "Then start at the beginning, get to know each other again, and take it day by day. It'll either be better than before, or you'll realize it's never going to work. But don't get married until you're sure. That baby's yours either way. She won't keep your daughter away from you—not if I have anything to say about it."

"You're so right." He nodded.

"Your mother would kidnap your daughter." I chuckled.

"We'll stop by this week."

"Good," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow." I kissed his cheek.

/=/=/=/=/

Old habits die hard, and Aro gave me a lift home. Carlisle left when we did, and he was still on cloud nine—still high from his days away. He'd only come by to check in, say what's up. During the drive, my talk with Sonny grated on my mind. I wanted to confer with Aro about it, but it's none of his business.

"You talk to Katie lately—since she moved in with Sonny?"

He shook his head, continuing to drive. "She runs home to Daddy when something's wrong. Otherwise? I don't see her. You know . . . when she was little, she was my ally," he laughed. "Katie took care of AJ and Peto, always calmed me down when I'd come home—and I'd want to smack Lauren—but she always greeted me with a smile. I was like…her Superman, her daddy. Now? Now that I can't hide certain things from her. Ever since Lauren started filling her head with all this stuff—the truth, sorta . . ." he trailed off and stopped talking.

"What happened?"

Aro sighed. "Now I'm just the schmuck that got her moms knocked up, married, and tossed away. She changed after I married Lisa—thought I ran away to Hawaii, came back with a bride—thought I was going to replace the family I already had."

"No," I said.

"Yes . . . she told me. And no matter how many times I say that's not true, she believes what she wants." He shrugged. "Lau told her I was a liar . . . The boys? AJ turned into my ally—never wanted to go to his mom's, and I never made him. Lisa was more of a mother to Peto. Katie always fought with Lisa—always had to remind her that she wasn't Peto's mother. Lauren couldn't really be bothered until they were teens, able to care for themselves, and I'm the bad guy? But you know all this." He waved a hand, exiting the highway. "Maybe because they're women they stick together. I don't know. Katie loves me. She just has no interest in…actually knowing me."

I blew out a breath. "Dame doesn't seem like he wants to get to know me either."

Aro grinned. "Now there's a kid you gotta worry about."

I hit his arm. "Shut the fuck up."

"I'm just sayin' . . . I always thought Sonny would be your troublemaker. I give him a hard time, but he's a good kid."

"I know." I smiled. "And Sonny always had this huge chip on his shoulder when it came to me...when he was young. With Dame, my God." My heart filled with joy, and I felt close to tears. "When I got outta prison...the way that kid embraced me...Damion held onto this idea of me; meanwhile, he was a pipsqueak. He didn't remember me. Then I was the monster inspector, making sure his room was clear. He'd give me all these hugs and kisses just because I was Daddy, told me he loved me all the time. He'd never hurt a fly . . . When did it change?" I asked no one in particular. "If he was sick, if he had some type of mental disorder, he'd be distant...that way with everyone, but then I don't know. Bella can reach him, sort of. When she sits him down...he opens up, but only parts of himself."

"Can you think of anything you did differently? Like, between Sonny and Dame?"

"No." I rasped, my throat thick, staring out the window. "I got away with stuff when it came to Dame. He was too little when a lot of shit popped off. He never remembered, I don't think. Sonny had to grow up fast, and I'm not sure if Dame ever did. You know what I mean? Kylie...I don't know what she knows, but she's never ever seen anything..." I waved a hand.

"Well, Sonny's a lot like you in some ways, but he's more like Bella—has her heart. Damion . . . I don't know. That's all you, dude."

"And Kylie is just like her mother," I laughed, and I suddenly couldn't wait to get home. "She's got Nanny's flare, that temper, too."

He bobbed his head. "Katie's just like Lau, too—can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. You got two stubborn women, and I have two ignorant—well, one. Lauren calls me sometimes, but fuck her. I just can't. Lisa's always checking my phone, answering it, threatening to beat Lau's ass. It's funny . . . but I wonder what I ever saw in her."

"Her ass," I said. "Call a spade a spade."

"Word," he agreed. "But then that's what you saw in MC."

"Well, yeah—of course. Have you seen my wife's ass?" I teased.

"I ain't sayin' shit."

I grabbed his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "The four of us need to get together more often—not just you coming over for coffee."

He blew out a breath. "There's no beef. I just can't understand why Bella and Lisa can't be friends."

"I don't know either." And I honestly had no clue. When Bella decided to distance herself from Derek, the rule applied to Lisa and Carlotta, too. My wife is cordial and pleasant, but she's not as close to Lisa as she is with Alex, or even Elena out in Jersey. "We're family—regardless."

He gave me a look and then opened his loud mouth. "We're gonna be grandpas!"

I hooted and hollered like an ass as he turned down my street. "It's fucking insane, right?" My mindset was the same as Sonny's—about to be a father.

"I wanna know where the fuck the years went." He looked at himself in the rearview. "We still look good."

"I'm sayin'." I pushed my hair back but then a random thought popped into my head. "Who's Peto like?" Sadly, I don't think I know the kid anymore either. When they were in high school, he was always around. We never talked, though—not like I've chilled with AJ. Then again, Peto's a baby.

"You mean, Giovanni Andino? And don't let him hear you call him Peto."

"Fuck that. I called him Peto last week."

Aro laughed. "Right . . ." He got quiet for a minute, but then looked at me as soon as he parked the car. "He's a good kid, Skip. He loves Kylie—would fuckin' die and kill for her. Their love? Just how crazy they are about each other . . . Christ. It's adorable. Although they're young, I think they might make it." He crossed his fingers and showed them to me. "I miss that little fucker like crazy—always on the computer, always stealing my porn, using my razors, always eavesdropping. From the time he was fourteen, he was like my shadow. But I told him—I never had to tell AJ. He never gave a fuck about where my money came from, just that I had it," he laughed.

"I told Peto not to even fucking think about it. And . . . honestly? I don't think he's interested at all anymore—not since he and Kylie started getting serious. She filled his head with college shit—the life they could have. Before that, Peto wasn't interested in college—wanted to be a Marine if he couldn't join a crew. All of which surprised me when he left, and Kylie skipped university all together."

I hissed. "Fuck Joe. Bella was more upset over that shit—Kylie not going to college."

He patted my back. "Kylie and Peto? Those two are normal—we did good with them. The rest…?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah…we gotta keep working on it." Leaving the car, I peeped Vito sleeping in his. "I'll see you."

"Goodnight." Aro jerked his chin before he pulled away from the curb.

I went over to Vito's car. If it was anyone else, I'd bang on the window. Instead, I lightly knocked—Vito being one of the last old-old timers from my father's day to still be around. Having no idea what the fuck to do with him—since he wanted to stay active—I have him chill out here, be around for Kylie and Bella. But he's only to stay local. If my girls need to go someplace out of the ordinary, I beef up security.

"Hey, oh...Vito," I sang.

He hopped up, his newspaper falling.

"How was your night?"

He cleared his throat. "Neither one went anywhere . . . Your son's home."

"Damion?"

"The one with the hair." He pointed to his head.

I nodded. "Thanks." Tapping his door, I turned for my own.

It was just past midnight. Yet, for Bella, Kylie, and Damion to be home, the house was really quiet. Without a dog to greet me, I locked up after myself—going toward the downstairs den. I saw that the TV was on.

My daughter was sound asleep, about to drop a bowl of popcorn—mouth wide open and snoring. The image made me smile. "Hey…" My tone was hushed. But as my eyes went to Kylie, I saw something in my periphery.

Through the sliding doors, I saw something or someone run across the darkened yard.

Wary, I kept one eye on Kylie while I grabbed my nine and put my back against the wall—trying to see who was back there. Rapidly, I turned on the light. It illuminated the back and I pointed my heat.

Then I nearly dropped it—seeing the girl from down the block, but she hadn't seen me.

"What the fuck?" I put my gun away, opening the back door. "Can I help you?"

Maggie was in pajamas, hands clasped in front of her. "Is Damion home?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "It's late—go home."

Without another word, she ran.

I shook my head. "Gonna get herself shot—"

"Boo!"

I internally jumped, but it was Kylie who said that. "Hey."

"Was that Maggie again?" She tried to see around me. "Stalker bitch."

"Whoa . . . What kind of thing is that to say?" I asked, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "You don't talk like that."

She pointed. "But Daddy, that's what she is . . . and Damion _is _home."

"Why?" I walked over to the couch and had a seat.

She shrugged, picking her wedgie before joining me.

"Everything all right?" I thought it was funny, but with Kylie you can't goof about certain things or point them out. She's sensitive—just like her mother.

"I think I'm gaining weight. My thong is too tight—"

"Whoa!" I put both my hands up. "Why?"

"You asked." The couch dipped as she plopped next to me. "Daddy, I'm a sexual being and I wear things—"

I hit her with a pillow. "Get away from me with that—it's bullshit. Sexual my ass." Since Bella wasn't around, I could get away with saying that.

Kylie giggled but then her face fell. "I miss Gio." She pulled her t-shirt—that was three sizes too big—to cover her bent legs. "All my friends are gone…"

I yanked her into my side, and she sorta just keeled over—still in her shirt cocoon. "You want me to get Mom?" Lately, when she gets like this, Bella is the only one who can calm her down.

"No." She sniffled. "Tell me it'll be okay."

"It'll be okay."

"Thank you." She hugged me, and I wished all problems were as easily fixed. "Damion wouldn't even hang out with me." She was crying again. "Amelia was here—they came for dinner. It's all about Amelia."

"Hey, you have Mom."

"I think Mom's sick of looking at me," she cried harder. "She likes Amelia better, too."

"Stop. You_ know_ she doesn't." I shook her playfully. "Mom could never get sick of this face." I pinched her cheek. "Youse should go shopping—"

"Mom hates shopping, and she thinks _I _shop too much. Yet, she keeps talking about taking Katie shopping—stuff for the new baby. I'll go with them," she sighed, ". . . but I dunno. All I can do is sit on the couch and watch TV . . . I suck. Every day I say I'm gonna do things . . . and then I don't. I get up and go to the salon, but then I just hide in the break room and watch TV."

I hummed.

"Gio and I Skype all the time—"

"You what?" I shouted.

"Skype, Daddy. I said 'Skype'." She rushed out. "Jesus."

I shook my head, although it didn't sound like she said Skype the first time. "That's video chat, right?"

"Yeah." She leaned back into me. "What'd'ju think I said?"

"I have no idea—somethin' nasty. Something a little girl shouldn't be doing, nor telling her father about." But then I felt bad. "You can talk to me, though."

"I know." She giggled again. "When are you going to realize that I'm an adult?"

I totally chose to ignore that question. "What about homegirl—Maggie? She seems lonely, too."

"No way. It's bad enough with Amelia . . ." And I thought it was adorable, that even though it doesn't come from a romantic standpoint—thank God it doesn't; we have enough fucking problems—Kylie was jealous of someone occupying Dame's time.

"It's different with Sonny and Katie, kinda. I mean, Sonny still knows I exist," she whispered.

"And you're going to be an aunt soon." I poked her side. "You _should_ hang out with Katie."

"I could," she whispered. "I bet they're all so in love it makes me cry," she sobbed.

"Stop crying!" I tried not to laugh. "You're fine—you're going to be fine, and when you go out to Texas? You'll be crying you miss your mother."

Kylie was silent—didn't say a word to rebut or agree, but I knew I was correct.

"Spend time with Mom and Katie—Call Katie, take them out to lunch, a spa day. You like planning day trips and shit."

"I do," she sighed.

"Then there you go." I kissed her hair. "Katie likes chillin' with you, and by default . . . you can get Katie and Mom together more often." It looked like two of my problems could solve themselves. "We can do things, too. _I'll _take you shopping. I'm sure you need new winter clothes." I didn't really know. But I knew while she was in school, Bella used to take her for new things all the time. "I love buying stuff for Mom, and you know what she likes better than me."

"Seriously?" Her eyes lit up. "Like…you'll pay for it all?"

I raised a brow. "Within limits." And I had no idea why she was so surprised. I pay for it all already. Kylie doesn't even draw a salary from the salon. Bella takes care of the books, and we take care of everything Kylie needs—including cash. She gets an allowance, which has been very generous since she started working at Bay Ridge Tan. Bella changed the name from Isle Esme years ago. The current arrangement works out. In a few months, we'll have to figure out who'll run it again—same with me with Eclipse, once or if Sonny leaves.

"Oh." She deflated. "Can I get a car?"

"You don't even have a license—"

"You can take me driving—lessons. When I get to Texas, I mean, Gio says you gotta drive everywhere. Nobody knows me—who we are there. I'd be safe, although the campus is humongous. Gio says he hardly has to leave, but having a car comes in handy."

I nodded. "We'll work on it. Texas is still months away." I thank God for that, too.

"I, um, I heard Damion talking." She leaned away to wipe her eyes. "Amelia brought it up . . . Damion said he wasn't allowed to go to Midnight Sun?"

"That's right," I said, "although . . . if he wanted to take Amelia, _and only chill with Amelia_ . . . I might be okay with it." I was happy for Damion. He seemed to hit it off with Luke's daughter, and even more so with Luke. That kind of shocked me, for Luke to be welcoming when his daughter was coming home with a mark on her neck. I thought for sure Damion was going to cross the Goethals Bridge and never be heard from again. At least, that's what would happen if someone did that shit to Kylie. It was obvious Dame and Amelia fucked that night—and I was surprised she'd give it up that quick.

They were both so happy, had weird faces, and they kept sneaking away to make out until they just left that Sunday. Nevertheless, Luke couldn't be happier. Even he's planning a mental wedding already. He knows Sonny, but he was really impressed by Dame. I mean, his "possible" future son-in-law is going to be a doctor.

To him, Amelia won the fucking lottery.

To me, it was the other way around.

This knucklehead, my son, just landed this crazy beautiful girl, and Bella says she has a good heart. The fact that my wife even digs her says a lot.

I don't know how he pulled it off, although I have an idea.

_He is a Cullen._

"What if he took Amelia _and_ me?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, Daddy, please! I wouldn't drink. I swear. I wouldn't. Legally, as long as I don't drink, it's cool." She kissed my cheek. "Please!"

"Stop whining." I tilted my head away.

"For years, I heard all about the Halloween parties—how awesome they are, and I'm finally old enough to go."

"Go trick-or-treating with Maggie—"

"Daddy!" Her voice hit that one octave that made me cringe. "You'll be there, Mom will likely be there. Uncle Carlisle, Aunt Alex, and Sonny are definitely going—"

"Maybe not," I said.

"I won't drink. I just wanna dance and hang out—I've never been to a club before."

"No." I went to get up.

"You should be grateful." She stood up, too, to poke my chest.

I looked down to her hand. "Excuse me?"

She shrugged. "I could have just gone—on another night, to another club. I could have been deceitful. But I'm being honest."

"So…? You think you should get points for giving me an ultimatum?"

Kylie blinked, thinking. "No. What I said was—"

"You wanna know what happened to the last guy who gave him an ultimatum?" Damion joined us.

"You guys suck! I'm depressed, dammit!" She stomped out of the room. "And I _will _ask Mom!"

Damion laughed. "Geez. Fucking Hurricane Kylie . . . You gonna let us go or not?"

"You too?" I asked. "More importantly, why are you here? I get that Amelia came to dinner, and I'm happy youse are getting along . . . but don't let her screw with school."

He shook his head, and he actually had a whole different demeanor about him. Damion seemed…happier? At ease? "Ducking into Brooklyn for a meal isn't going to fuck with anything."

"Good to know," I said, taking a glance around the room. "Your admirer was in the yard just now."

He raised a brow. "Really?"

I slowly shook my head, watching his shoulders slump. "Don't."

"No. It's just—well, I thought she hated me. It's surprising. That's all."

"Right." I walked out of the room. "Halloween is three weeks away. Let Kylie know I'll think about it." As I started up the stairs, I rubbed my forehead, wondering just how tight security would have to be—having my entire family at Midnight Sun.

"Kylie will probably be up my ass all night anyway." He followed me.

"I heard that!" Kylie shouted from the kitchen.

"Shhhh. Is Mom sleeping?" I asked.

"She went to bed…" Dame shrugged, and his phone rang. "It's Amelia." He never answered it.

I didn't say a word, gave Kylie and her sourpuss a look, and then went for my bedroom.

"Dad!"

I stopped with my hand on the knob.

"Can we go to the Staten Island Mall tomorrow?" Kylie was my best friend again.

"Sure." I bent to kiss her forehead. "It's late. Go to bed."

"Goodnight, Daddy." She hugged me, and I melted.

"'Night, angel."

"I'm sorry for being a brat . . . I'm just so sad again." And the tears were flowing once more.

"Sweetheart…" I rubbed her back and didn't know what to say—for her to go back and forth like this. Damion gave me a look as he made his way into his bedroom. Silently, I gestured to his sister—sure he'd know how to make her feel better. "Come on." While ushering her into our bedroom, I wasn't surprised to see Bella awake. She lay in bed, beautiful and snuggled in the blanket, watching TV.

"What's wrong?" Bella sat up.

"Mom…" Kylie dove for the bed and her mother.

"Oh, Kylie. Baby girl, you're going to see him soon."

I left them to it, and I wondered if I'd ever see my bed tonight. As weird as it was, this evening reminded of when they were all young—actually needed us.

"She okay?" Dame asked.

"She's sad about Peto," I said, going for the kitchen.

"I get it." He followed behind me. "Kylie was happy—the happiest she'd ever been, and now her reason for happiness is how many miles away? When you were locked up—"

My head whipped to him. "It's not the same—don't compare."

He nodded, agreeing. "Okay. She'll be fine, though. She'll get used to it. Just give her time. You know what a drama queen she is."

"Yeah…" I grabbed a water from the fridge.

"Mom says she cries every night."

"I wish I left her sleeping on the couch." I stared at the kitchen table, wondering if I should get comfortable here. "Christ…I just wanna go to bed. You should, too."

He grinned. "I should." And I didn't know why he was thrilled for bed.

"Things are going well—with you and Amelia?"

"It is what it is . . . we're casual, nothing serious." He was flippant.

"You're sleeping together, though."

"We are." He was short.

I scratched my head. "Your brother told me…you didn't do casual."

He laughed. "I was always with Julie. When did I have a chance to be that way with anyone?"

"Have you heard from her?" I took a seat, gesturing for him to do the same.

"Nope," he sighed, sitting to the side of me. "She calls every day, and I just don't know what to say."

"Don't leave her hanging—that's cruel." Honestly, I had no room to talk—not with my old track record. I rarely even remembered their names, but things were different now. I have a wife, a daughter—quite a few women I respect, so I felt correct in saying something.

Damion munched on his bottom lip. "It's more than not knowing what to say. I don't know what to do. Amelia is . . . She's, she's wonderful." He was gone—in love already. That much was evident from his goofy grin and unseeing gaze. "But then I had a good thing with Julie. Do I wanna burn a bridge if shit doesn't work out with Amelia?"

I shook my head. "One or the other. You don't want the headache, and if you do Amelia dirty—fucking embarrass me and this family—I'd beat your ass myself. Figure your shit out and do it soon."

"I can respect that," he whispered. "But…I'm not talking about keeping Julie on the side. Doesn't Luke have a mistress? Wouldn't it be hypocritical of him to be upset—"

"What is this?" I widened my arms. "This isn't like you."

"I'm just pointing out that—"

"No," I said. "You holding onto Julie while you're with Amelia."

"Julie broke up with me. She dumped me. She didn't want me anymore. Technically, I'm not doing shit _to_ her. Amelia and I are just hanging out—we're friends who fuck." His face fell.

"Oh…" I didn't know that. "Friends who fuck, huh? There's no commitment?"

He shook his head. "We never spoke about it."

"Speak about it before she fucks someone else," I laughed. "Because 'technically', she wouldn't be doing shit _to_ you."

"I'd fucking—"

"You'd what?" I leaned toward him. "Do some soul-searching, sit down and talk."

His grin was back. "We don't exactly talk, if you know what I mean. I know how I feel, though, which is why . . . I don't know how she feels, and . . . I—in all honesty—I don't—I don't know if I can—if I can put myself . . ."

"Out there?" I finished for him. "I don't know dick about relationships, except my own. But I'm going to guess Amelia doesn't enjoy just being your booty call. And if you don't wanna ask, or talk it out, then tell her." I smiled. "Tell her she can't fuck around. Simple as that—she can't fuck around if she wants to fuck you, too." I nodded, liking the way all that sounded. "You guys, though . . . I see it; I see the way you two are. She's just as into you as you're into her. Take the risk." I grasped his hand. "No risk, no reward."

Damion mouthed my words, and then nodded. "That sounds good."

"Words to live by." I belched, that sandwich not sitting well with me. "I'm going to bed." Kylie was either getting the boot, or I was going to sleep in her bed. Nevertheless, I bid goodnight to Dame—chances are I won't see him in the morning—and went straight for our room.

"Shhh." Bella was fast to place her finger to her lips. "Poor thing cried herself to sleep."

I smiled, and just like she was three years old, I lifted Kylie up and brought her to bed. She stirred, but mumbled goodnight and rolled over.

Of course, I bumped into Dame on my way back. "Goodnight for the tenth time," he said.

I gave him a head nod.

It was just my luck. This time, when I opened the door, Bella wasn't in bed. "Where are you?"

"Peeing." The toilet flushed.

"Oh." I locked our door, kicking off my shoes. "I fucking missed you, man."

"Man?" Bella giggled, leaving the bathroom.

"You know what I mean." I unbuttoned my shirt.

Bella was rubbing lotion into her hands, kneeling up to get into bed. "Kylie's worrying me. She keeps—she is sad about Gio, but when I ask what's wrong . . . She says she can't tell me because she doesn't even know. I wanna write it off as PMS . . ." Bella frowned.

I threw my slacks into the hamper, and then hopped into bed—I literally jumped. "She's bored." I gathered my gorgeous wife into my arms, using my leg to trap her. "She's just out of high school; she's always gone to school this time of year—"

"I know . . . I just wish I knew how to fix it. Then again, this could be PMS, plus Gio leaving, plus a multitude of other things. A lot has changed."

I pecked those lips. "You're right."

"You think it's for the better?" Her tone was somber.

"We'll find out soon enough." I nuzzled my nose to her cheek. "No worries. Aren't we always fine? Don't we always work shit out?"

"It's not us I'm worried about. We're fine—wait, you're happy, right?" She shot up.

I laughed, bringing her back. "With you? I'm always happy, and lately? I'm ec-fucking-static, baby." My lips touched hers. Our kiss was gentle at first, but then Bella moaned.

And when Bella moans . . .

"Baby," I nipped her neck, moving her hair away, "more than there are stars in the sky."

She pulled my hair, bringing my lips back to hers. "Me too," she whined the good whine, squirming her hips below me. "How-how come when we're good, everything else is crumbling?"

I leaned away to slip off her pants and panties—they both came off at the same time. "Tomorrow."

"What?" Bella reached for my boxers.

"We'll worry about that shit tomorrow." I pulled her legs, spreading them and bringing her closer.

Bella giggled. "You're such a brute."

"You love it." I got rid of my undershirt.

"I do." She ran her hands up my chest.

Grinning from ear to ear, I dove for my love.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	14. Breaking the Habit

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**I don't know why I'm updating this early . . . erm. Yeah, I don't know :-)**

**Please enjoy! Leave me some extra lovin' . . . I'm pretty sure I'll be updating twice a week. The story is still moving a bit slow . . . I just have these people to speak from. It's awesome! (sigh)**

**Enjoy. **

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Fourteen: Breaking the Habit**

**DAMION**

_**T**_here was someone knocking at the door and they wouldn't stop. Hoping to ignore the short, rapping, and incessant sound, I wondered if my roommate would get it.

"Ethan . . ." I mumbled into my pillow, "get the door." He's always awake freakishly early. "Just answer it." My body rolled and hit something.

"Huh?" Amelia asked.

"Oh, shit." My arm, which was raised, slowly came down to cuddle her.

"What'd you say?" Amelia buried her head into my armpit. She had her phone in her hand—typing away, while it also dinged with another message.

I blinked, having forgotten that she'd spent the night. "Hey…" I kissed her hair, "how long you been up?"

She sighed. "A while. I was just calling—"

I smiled, turning over to kiss her lips.

"Morning breath." She covered her mouth with the sheet.

There was another knock and then a bang. But I ignored it by quickly pulling the sheet away to kiss her forcefully—sticking my tongue down her throat, exploring that beautiful mouth.

"Damion…" She giggled and kissed me back, and she tasted like Amelia—my girl. "Shouldn't you get the door?"

When the knocking continued, I turned to see my room empty. Of course, Ethan wasn't here; Amelia was. I put the scarf on the door, and he knows to sleep in the common room when I do that. "Who is it?" I shouted, upset to be bothered when I don't have class or clinic today.

Not to mention, Amelia was in bed with me.

Plus, it's Sunday, and my only plan is to get my ass to my parents' for Sunday dinner, but that's later on and it's not even a mandatory thing.

Amelia and I _could_ stay in bed all day . . .

Two weeks ago, I changed my priorities around—deciding to keep my "extracurricular" activities to a minimum, or see how long it lasts at least. One thing was for sure; I needed to make a few life changes. Basically, I'm trying to act normal, and not over think everything that I don't give a fuck about anyway.

_No one's died. _

So far so good, right?

This year it's: studying, classes, labs, and clinical time spent at the hospital.

It was time for me to make those "life" decisions . . . put myself on the path to greatness, a path to the future.

"You want me to get it?" She sat up to slip on her bra.

"I got it." I helped her with the clasp before I placed a kiss on her heart. When I picked my head up, we locked gazes—and I always seem to get lost when that happens. "Hey."

"Hi." She smiled brightly, only to kiss me again.

Overzealous, this overwhelming feeling of joy in my heart, I deepened the kiss and quickly hovered over her. "I—" I shook my head, backing the fuck off of her fast.

She reached to hold my cheeks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I couldn't look at her, not when I was about to blurt the words "I love you" after only knowing her for a little more than two weeks. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I was buggin' —pussy-drunk, Amelia making me stupid, and this was worse in comparison to my other infatuations. First, I never _actually_ met those other women. I only admired them from afar—I didn't know them. Then again, how well does anyone know anyone?

My brother teases me about this shit and I always deny it, but it's kind of true.

Women easily manipulate me—they're evil.

"Damion?" she whispered.

"I'm sorry." I turned to peck her lips. "I just—" I waved to my head.

"You should rest today." She massaged my shoulder, looking to the door. "You've been busy—you're not sleeping enough."

"I slept _last_ night." It was peaceful having her here in my arms. She also damn near fucked me into a coma. Thank God for small favors.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Who do you think it is?"

"Who is it?!" I hollered.

"Geez." Amelia covered her ears. "When you yell, you _yell_."

I grinned, placing a kiss on her temple. "I—"

_More knocks…_

We both stared at the door now, and I wondered why no one was responding. "Who is it?" I was frustrated when I should be trying to sleep some more . . . or fuck my girlfriend.

"Hello?" I asked, grabbing my nine from the nightstand. "How can I help you?" Whoever was at the door had stopped knocking. "Get in the closet," I whispered to Amelia.

Her eyes went wide.

"Just do it." I gave her ass a nudge, rising to get the door, and she did as I said. That was one of the things I adored about Amelia. She's great at taking direction—listening to me and heeding my warnings. "Who's there?" I knocked back.

"It's me, um, can you just open the door?"

It sounded like Kylie. "What are you doing here?" I placed my nine in my boxers.

"Dame . . . can you just let me in? I've been out here forever, and . . ." She kept going while I grabbed a t-shirt and put it on. "I don't have a lot of time, and, oh—" Kylie stopped talking when I tore open the door.

"What's up?" I looked to her confused.

"You have a thing on the knob," she spoke of the black scarf, "do you have a girl here?" She tried to see around me. "It better be Amelia."

"Just get in." Pulling her into the room, I noticed she had been crying, but I wasn't surprised. Okay, I was. Mom said she was getting better. "What's wrong?"

She started crying again as she took a seat on my bed. "I, um . . ." She stopped to take hold of my pillow and hug it. "Ugh . . . it's wet. There's drool on it," she pushed it away, "or jizz . . . gross."

Giving her a look, I let Amelia out of the closet. "It's just Kylie..." I said, because she was still in her underwear.

_Don't women usually congregate in their panties? Always squealing and trying on each others clothes, they have the same parts and all that good shit? _

_Fuck. _

_If I was a woman, I'd sit at home, in front of a mirror, and masturbate all day long. _

_I wouldn't even hold a fucking job . . . just saying. _

"You're beautiful," I told Amelia.

She grinned and ducked her gaze, stepping out from the closet.

"Oh . . . you're busy—" My sister went to get up. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's fine." Amelia walked out, picking up her discarded clothes. "I should go." She slipped her blouse on.

"Don't." I grasped her hand, stopping her, yet I helped her with those buttons. Half the fun of getting her naked is dressing her up again.

She made a face, grimacing sadly and placing her hands on mine. "I have to—promised my mom—Elena I'd go to church, and then . . . with her. I already called for a ride. I was going to tell you before . . . Pietro and Mom should be here any minute, actually."

"Oh." I frowned, biting the inside of my cheek. "Come to dinner tonight—at my parents' house."

"Yeah." Kylie nodded. "Mom would—" Her face crumbled and she was crying again. "Mommy…"

Amelia and I looked back to each other. "I'll see what's up." She came closer to whisper, "Talk to your sister. There's obviously something wrong." Then her phone dinged and she went for it. "I was right." She showed me the text. Her driver was outside.

I slipped my sneakers on. "I'll walk you out."

"No. Pete'll meet me at the steps." She stared at Kylie. "Just…" Her eyes widened as she gestured to my sister, a silent indication I talk to her.

I huffed, nodding; meanwhile, being consoling isn't exactly my thing. My sister _should_ be talking to Amelia. She'd be a lot more helpful as I find women usually are.

But then I had a brief thought. "Is there someone out there you don't want me to see? Why can't I walk you out?"

"No—God, no." Amelia shook her head. "No…my mom—my _stepmom's_ in the car, but . . ." She placed her hands on my chest, hopping up to peck my lips. "I'll see you . . . hopefully later?"

"You'll be there," I said, hugging her to me the tightest I could.

I still don't know what it is about this broad, but I _was_ falling hard and fast in love with her.

Last night, when my shift ended at the hospital, we were supposed to go to dinner and a show. That never happened. We had one helluva fuck-fest right here, ate shit from the bodega down the block, drank a couple 22s of Heineken, and then fucked some more.

Christ. Maybe I only get to see her a few days a week, but I've never had this much sex in my entire life. We haven't agreed on anything, nor have we spoken about what we are.

I'm trying to be casual, which is something I've never done. Yet—to me, possibly _only_ me—our relationship was anything but casual.

"I'll try," she whispered, which was shocking. I was surprised she didn't just agree, although it was kind of refreshing.

I let her go so she could squirm the rest of the way into her jeans.

"Yeah." I pushed my hair back. "Whatever. If you have shit to do, some other cat to see…"

"No way!" she exclaimed. "Don't be like that." She squeezed my hand, her purse strap falling from her shoulder.

"I'm not being like anything. Do what you want." I helped her right her bag.

"I just haven't seen my family in—"

"You live with them," I said.

"True, but—"

I put my hand up to stop her. "There's no need to explain. I'll see you when I see you."

"Damion." She stared up at me.

"_I _have shit to do anyway," I lied to save face.

When she reached for me, I pretended to check my email after opening my laptop.

And that was my version of trying to be casual.

There was no way I'd beg her to stay or come to dinner. With trying to change, Amelia makes it easy—I'm distracted by her, her body, the way I feel when we're together, and other things…

My mind is just chill when she's around.

Lately, I've been trying to think up ways to spend more time with her. Or, possibly, making her just as desperate for the company as I am.

But we might have totally different views on our . . . relationship. Maybe shit is casual for her; she doesn't give a fuck.

And so, why should I give a fuck about her?

Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

If I'm getting pussy—_crazy hot sex_—without any real commitment, why should I try so fucking hard to be her man?

_Fuck that._

But besides Amelia being amazing and my personal feelings, there are about six million reasons why I _should_ try to be her man—that's just the truth. If Pops is going to give me three mil, and Luke will match that…?

_Fuck that shit, too._

I'm above caring for someone who can't for me—it makes no sense; it's a waste of time.

"Damion?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, what?"

Amelia's shoulders slumped. "I think we need to talk."

"I don't see why…"

She frowned. "Are, are we okay?" Her tone was hushed as she gave Kylie a wary glance.

"Why wouldn't we be?" I asked.

"Um—"

"Don't you have to leave?" I gestured to the door.

Amelia turned away from me. "Kylie…it was great seeing you. I hope you feel better." She waved to my sister, hopping from foot to foot, putting her heels on. "We'll talk more later—after dinner?" She faced me again.

I was quick to look away.

"What time is dinner?" she asked.

"U-usually around five." Kylie sniffled.

"Oh . . ." Amelia seemed at a loss, staring down to her.

"I'm—I'm okay." Kylie was a blubbering mess.

Amelia stared in my direction again; I felt her eyes on me.

But I _never_ said a word, hitting delete a bunch of times to get rid of junk mail.

After she left, I turned to my sister. "To what do I owe this visit? The Village isn't exactly around the corner from Bay Ridge." I forced a laugh, and she had quiet tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I just . . ."

"Kylie . . . if you're this fucking wrecked, just go to Texas—get a job or something until school starts." Without any tissues, I gave her a dirty shirt I had lying around. "You're going to be nineteen. Mom and Dad can't stop you."

"What's—what's this for?" She held up the t-shirt.

Taking the sleeve and wiping under her eyes, I asked, "Can you tell me what's wrong? Is this really about Gio?" Growing concerned, I gave her my full attention. Then I looked out the window. My room overlooks the street. "You had Vito drive you?" That grease ball sat in his car reading the newspaper, and then I saw Amelia hop into the back of Pietro's large Lincoln Town Car.

"I was on my way to the salon . . . I came here instead, so I could do this." She rummaged around her purse and then tore into a plastic bag, only to hand me a pregnancy test.

"No!" I pushed her hand away, my face falling. "I thought—I thought you were on the pill?" Quickly, I tried to do the mental math in my head. My sister was supposed to get married like three weeks ago, so . . .

"Could it possibly be Gio's?" My throat was dry, and I was nervous and scared _for_ her.

She shrugged. "Gio and I only had that one night. He went back to school that Monday . . . We talk on the phone and Skype daily, but yeah. It can't be his—I don't think."

"Christ . . . You didn't use a condom?"

"I don't know." She sniffled. "I know Gio did. We went through like four, and—"

"How do you _not_ know if Joe used a condom?" I chuckled, shaking my head.

"We were in the car, the backseat both times . . . No!" she exclaimed. "I remember . . . oh, man." She covered her face. "The first time he did. I know because I stole the wrapper . . . The second time, he said we were getting married anyway. It was bad and I just laid there . . . I thought women had to, you know, in order to get pregnant."

I shook my head. "What's 'you know'? Just spit it out—"

"Come . . . um, have an orgasm? Natalie at school told me—"

"You're such a fucking child." All I could do was shake my head at her.

"I am not!"

"You have absolutely no business even having sex!" I shouted. "None!"

"You don't know what you're talking about." She punched me, and her whiny, high-pitched voice was suddenly driving me insane. "I'm a woman, even Dad—"

"Oh my God. Just stop talking for a second," I said, blowing out a breath. "Shit."

"Damion—" She squeaked a sob, throwing herself into my arms.

"It'll be okay." I rubbed her back.

"I can't lose Gio. I can't—I can't do this. I can't be . . . I can't be a mom yet," she cried. "Oh God . . . Daddy. He's going to hate me and kick me out, and—"

"Mom would never let him do that, and I don't think Dad would do that either—"

"I thought I wanted a baby, but now . . . I mean, Joe and I had plans. I thought a baby would be good. I don't know what I was thinking. Then Gio . . . Gio." She hiccupped.

"Relax." I knew this was horrible, but it wasn't the end of the world. "I thought you were on the pill?"

"One night, it was before we had sex again, Joe, um, he told me to stop taking them."

"And you listened?" I reached out to shake her. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Stop." She pushed me off. "His family expected us to have a baby right away." She rushed out, speaking over me. "What was I supposed to do? He was going to be my husband—we wanted to start a family, and babies make everyone happy. I thought, thought if I had a baby—"

"Just shut the fuck up a minute." I pushed her away from me to stare at her. "Are you really that stupid? Did you go to a doctor?" I snorted without humor. "Did you at least start bleeding after you stopped the pills?"

"I spotted." She sniffled. "It was really light. I remember hoping it was gone before the wedding." She dried her eyes. "I know what I have to do. I'll get an abortion, and nobody needs to know about it."

Nodding, I actually agreed with her. "No matter whose kid it is, Dad won't let you do that. He has like this thing about babies, even if it's not a baby yet . . . But . . . that's debatable and not relatable. Did you talk to Mom?"

"I wouldn't be here if I did," she argued. "No one can know."

"Well, if you wanted to keep it, I mean. I bet she'd raise it just so you could go to school." That's all my mother keeps talking about—her daughter going to college and getting a career. "Gio _might_ stick around." I winced. "He's a stand-up guy, and Joe—" I haven't heard anything about him or his family since that night. But Bianca called me, which was odd. I have no idea how she acquired my number, and I never answered. Maybe I should call her back?

"No!" She stood up to pace. "Then Dad would _make_ me marry Joe. And Joe _is _an asshole. I realize that now." She held her bicep. "God. What did I see in him? I wanted to hurt him that night."

"No . . . he wouldn't make you marry him," I laughed, especially since Joe's . . . and Kylie has no idea. "You haven't taken the test yet?" I asked.

"No, according to the pills, if I was still taking them, my period is five days late." She nodded.

"So, you might not be pregnant?"

She stared at me. "No, I'm pregnant. A woman knows her own body." She turned to the mirror and pushed her stomach out.

I laughed at her again. "Joe must have some powerful sperm—"

"This is no time for jokes!" she barked at me.

"Listen, if you were bleeding after you stopped the pills, there's a good chance your body menstruated already, and it'd be light since you didn't go a whole 'nother month. Your period isn't late, Kylie. You probably already had it. You just screwed up your cycle."

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen." She folded her arms across her chest. "I had morning sickness today. I threw up, and—"

"Anxiety can do that, too—the mind is a powerful and fucked-up thing. Did you figure all this out yesterday?"

"But I'm bloated!" she screamed. "I'm—"

I tried to do the mental math again. "And you've probably got PMS, you dipshit! You're likely due for your period again next week…_if_ you're regular—"

"Can you stop with the medical bullshit? I know I'm pregnant!" She whacked me with my pillow.

"Just listen to me!" I threw it back at her.

"All I need is for you to be there, take me there and back. I can chill here while I recuperate," she spoke over me again. "I called a woman's clinic not far from here—"

"And you haven't even taken the test yet?" I chuckled. "Kylie—"

"I need you to come with me and pay for it. I can't use my insurance card. If I do, Mom and Dad will find out, and I can't put it on a credit card either . . . I burned through all my cash. Nordstrom was having a sale." She counted off each point on a finger, and was currently going for her other hand. "Dad never took me shopping. Something came up like it _always_ does . . . Mom says I shop too much. I didn't want to put that on my credit card either." She rolled her eyes. "Dad won't give me more money for another five days since I get my allowance on Fridays . . ."

"You're so spoiled . . . Dad just never handed me money like that." My father is like her personal ATM.

"Uh, hello? Dad still pays your credit card bill. And he's offered to buy you a car—"

"So?" I asked.

"You toured—went back packing through Europe after senior year for almost a month, which was _funded_ by Dad. Oh, and he paid for you to take Julie with you, too. I'm not allowed to go to the fucking mall without a chaperone!" she shrieked. "And I have a curfew at eighteen! He pays to keep me sane!"

"You win," I whispered.

She slumped her shoulders. "It's a lot cheaper than I thought, like, five hundred bucks . . . This is what I want. No one has to know but you . . . and I might tell Mom. No, no, I can't." She was crying again. "She'd be so mad at me."

"I don't think she would." I rubbed her back. "She'd be more upset you kept this from her—_if_ she ever found out."

"She might tell Daddy."

I shook my head. "Not if you asked her not to. Dad didn't even know you were having sex until he saw you half-naked." I grimaced at the thought—that poor bastard.

"I thought he was gonna kill me," she giggled through her tears. "Say you'll come with me." Kylie grasped my hand.

I nodded, giving her hand a squeeze. "Of course, I will. I'll go with you, pay for it, hold your hand, and I'll haunt you about telling Mom . . . but we're getting very ahead of ourselves." I didn't think she was pregnant.

As I grabbed the test, I left the bed to face her. "Go take it." I pushed it into her chest.

She puffed her cheeks. "I already know—"

"Take it!" My raised voice surprised her. "And regardless of the result, you're making yourself an appointment with your doctor. God knows where Joe's dick has been . . . Just saying." I raised a brow, opening my door to push her out. "Let's go."

"I always thought you were different," she spat, yet her tone was teasing. "You're just as bossy as Sonny and Dad."

"Whoa!" A asshat named Sean shouted. "Late night, Cullen? And this _must_ be the screamer . . ." He reached for Kylie's hand.

I pushed him away from us, and he hit the wall. "Back off, fuck-o!"

His eyes widened. "I didn't even know you spoke." He smiled.

"Fuck you." I left to usher Kylie into the bathroom. "I'll be out here."

She stared down to the plastic bag in her hands.

"Do it." I closed the door, blowing out a breath as I stood in front of it. Sean was still staring at me. "What?" My body flinched toward him.

He jumped before turning to walk down the hall.

My gaze traveled south to see that I was still in boxers, and I hoped more people wouldn't be passing by.

At first, I was going to get an apartment this semester. Then I decided to stay here. I could focus on school—not get distracted.

Believe it or not, coed housing had only two rooms left. Sadly for Ethan, I'm a slob where he's very neat. We get along, though. He's in the med program, too, and keeps to himself.

And living here is so much better than being home.

Here in Manhattan, it's a whole different world. First and foremost, it's not incestuous. That may sound surprising, but in Bay Ridge—the neighborhood—everybody knows everybody, and everyone is fucking, or _has_ fucked, everyone, too. We all know each other, are in each other's businesses and lives.

It's not a big place, and Bay Ridge seems like Mars in comparison to Manhattan. There are many different people, and there's always something to do.

Not that I have a lot of personal time, but it's nice to know I have choices if I want them...

I sighed, hearing the toilet flush. "You okay?"

"It takes three minutes." She opened the door, and I entered.

Kylie washed her hands, leaving the test on the sink, and I stared at the bowl, needing to pee.

"Can you turn around?" I went to grab my junk.

"You're so gross." She grimaced, turning her head.

I chuckled as I continued to use the bathroom. "You just woke me up," I said.

"I see things are going well with Amelia. Do you love her?"

"It's only been like two-three weeks." I was doing mental math again.

"Most people know by now…if they will—like, if they _can_ love the person or already do. She ran out of here fast, though . . . Maybe Amelia and I can hang out. All my friends are away. It's lonely. Blah." She rambled. "Business is picking up at the tanning salon, though—because it's getting cold. But that place is boring."

I didn't comment, trying to focus on the task at hand. Believe it or not, I've never pissed in front of anyone except…Sonny or Dad?

"Hurry up." She had her back to me.

Rolling my eyes, I gave myself a wiggle and put my dick away. "I'm done." After flushing, I went to wash my hands. As I did that, I looked at the test. She bought the idiot-proof one—the digital kind.

"What am I going to do . . ." She went on and on, and I let her talk.

But the test was negative. And if she didn't have a positive result by now, she definitely wouldn't have one down the line.

Right there in the small window, it said, "Not Pregnant."

Maybe I was an asshole, but I thought about telling her it was positive while I hid it from sight. That would be me scaring her straight. Although once she's at college and with Gio—who is so much more mature than she is—and she's back on the pill, I doubt she'll have this problem for a while.

". . . and if I kept it, I'd get fat, and I already gained seven pounds since graduation," she cried.

"That'd be the least of your problems." I nodded. "Forget about the tiny human who'd rely on you for everything. Your life, what you wanted to do, would be over . . . but yeah, you'd gain some weight . . . Mom is pretty thin, though. She's had three kids."

"She's a work-out freak! She has to exercise to look like that." Kylie snapped, and she was so PMSing. In fact, I remember Dad making a comment about Mom and my sister. Their cycles _were_ practically synced. Either way, I'd hate to be him this week, next week, whenever it's Mom's turn. I don't know.

"Alex had twins and she—" My stomach didn't knot up when she came to mind. That must be a good thing.

"_She's_ just a freak of nature, lost all that weight fast. Then again, I remember her being terrified that Unc would cheat because she was fat. Fear can be a powerful tool, something to push you and make you work for the result you want," she sighed, and I just stared at her. My sister talks all this nonsense, but amongst all the garbage . . . sometimes this profound shit comes out.

"Our uncle's an asshole."

"Oh, please. The way they paw at each other...? He'd never do anything like that. Is it ready yet?"

I stood back as there was a knock at the door.

"Be right out." I handed her the test.

Kylie blew out a slow breath. "Moment of truth." She had her eyes clamped closed.

I smiled, placing it a few inches from her face. "Open your eyes, Ky."

She did, to look at me, and I made the test dance.

When she finally saw it, she snatched it from my hands. "I'm not pregnant!"

"But you should still go see a doctor—"

"I'm not pregnant!" she shouted and hopped up to hug me. "But then why have I gained weight?"

"Your shitty eating habits are catching up to you," I laughed, setting her down. "Honestly...you don't look any different. Don't go worrying about your weight now." These women with the battle of the bulge . . . I just can't stand all that talk, because none of them are overweight to begin with. They're healthy at best, and go bat-shit crazy over a pound.

"Gio said he liked the way I looked," she mused.

"Well, if_ Gio_ said . . ." I groaned. "Let's go." I threw the test and its box into the trash.

When we got back to my room, Kylie danced around and kept squealing.

I sighed, staring down at my bed and wanting to sleep some more. "Should I even bother?"

"Huh?" She was crunking and getting low. "Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh." Now it looked like the chicken dance.

"Stop," I said. "Please stop doing that." My sister had no rhythm at all.

Thankfully, she ceased all movement and pushed her hair out of her face. "Come back with me now instead of later. It's not like I'm going anywhere." She sat on my bed. "We can watch TV all day and eat crap." She was giddy to eat crap now. "Or…we can hang out here. Do you guys play beer pong and Twister—"

"No..."

"Panty raids?"

"What the fuck do you think college is about? You've seen too many movies. Even in undergrad . . . sure, there are parties, but I slept and studied most of the time, like many others. You're exhausted all the time," I laughed. "Besides, this building actually holds the older crowd."

"So then come back with me." She pulled on my arm. "Sonny never comes over anymore. He's already turned into a pod person."

"He's busy." I scrubbed my face with my hand, my eyes feeling dry.

"We can watch whatever you want…?" She smiled and was in my face now. "I can say I missed you and came to get you last minute…Mom wanted me to go to church with her, but I lied and said Nancy couldn't open the salon."

I nodded, pushing her out of my face, since those plans sounded better than anything else I had going on. "Let me shower—"

"Do it at home. You have clothes and everything there," she said.

"Yeah," I agreed, reaching for a pair of jeans. Then I took my phone out of the same pair before I put them on. I forgot to plug it in to charge, and I had a missed call.

Julie . . .

"What's wrong?" Kylie asked.

"Nothing." I threw my phone on the bed and hopped into the pants.

Of course, my sister had to check my phone. "Julie called you?"

"She's been calling." I had no clean socks. I grabbed a laundry bag to throw my dirty stuff into it. "Take the sheets off my bed."

Kylie jumped up. "I'm not touching them with my hands." She wiggled her manicured fingers.

I didn't comment, reaching around her to throw my bedding into the bag. Mom could do my laundry since I'll be there early.

"Well, what's going on? I thought you were with Amelia? And don't even get me started on Maggie . . . She keeps sneaking into the backyard to see if you're there. Dad said she better watch it or she might get shot—whatever that means. Hey…maybe _we_ could hang out? Maybe Maggie's not too bad. I mean, if you liked her..." Kylie tapped her chin.

I groaned. "Stay away from Maggie."

"Why?" Now she sounded intrigued.

"Because I asked you to?" My smile was condescending. "It's best she stays away from me...the family, you." I threw a dirty sock at her.

She slapped it away. "Do you actually like Maggie? You miss her or something?" She was teasing me again.

I shook my head no as I hoped she'd shut the fuck up.

"Then why do you care about—"

"Look, I _don't_ care. Do what you want," I grumbled under my breath, hating that she brought Maggie up. Why do I have to be reminded of her all the time? My family can never let shit go. "Hang out with her or don't, but keep her away from Amelia and me."

Kylie giggled. "She's harmless. She's not going to do anything—"

"I know _she_ won't..." And I'd already said too much. That night, I knew I connected with Maggie. But then, I thought she hated me. Even if I wasn't gone for Amelia at the time—when Maggie approached me the night I clipped Joe—I knew I was doing the right thing. She's young, and my intentions were no good—not good for her. She made the right decision when she told me to have a nice life. Maggie has a heart of gold, she's innocent, and she deserves a lot better.

But now she's sneaking into the yard, trying to seek me out?

That made no sense, although I'm relieved she doesn't hate me.

Now, I just don't want to see her; afraid . . . Well, I don't know what I'm afraid of. I didn't want to see her at all; terrified that it might inadvertently screw up what I have with Amelia.

_These fucking broads, man!_

Maybe I don't have enough faith in myself. Maybe I don't give myself enough credit. I'm not an animal. I have self-control, and I bet seeing Maggie doesn't do shit for me anymore. I'm blinded by all things Amelia any-fucking-way.

"Damion . . . What's up with Julie?" My phone was vibrating in Kylie's hand—"Julie" flashing.

Ceasing my movements, I just stood there. She's called me quite a few times, and I want to sever all ties with her so badly. I just haven't had the opportunity. As soon as I pick up that phone, she'll want to meet up, yet all my free time has been spent with Amelia.

"What about Amelia?"

I laughed then. "Why are you so nosy?"

"I have no life, remember?" She leaned back on the bed, and then shot up. "Yuck!" She stuck her finger in her mouth to gag. "God knows where the mattress has even been."

"Bet it's cleaner than Joe's dick."

She gasped.

I shrugged, putting my boots on and grabbing my keys. Then I put on my leather jacket and slung my laundry bag over my shoulder. "You ready?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She went hand me my glasses. "And you're such a pig. At least brush your teeth."

"You disrupted my sleep, my morning routine, and what might have been a fuckhot quickie before Amelia had to leave . . ."

"So, it's just sex with you guys?"

"No…it's not _just _anything. I don't know." I scratched my brow. "I guess you can say we're friends who fuck."

"Here." She held out my glasses. "You were being a real dick before she left, regardless of what you guys are."

I put my glasses on my chest of drawers. "I fell asleep wearing my contacts last night." Being reminded of that small fact, I grabbed the solution and my small case to shove in my pockets. "And I have a toothbrush at home. I can go twenty more minutes without, unless you find it horribly offensive." I was sarcastic.

"No. It's cool. I just thought I'd remind you." She didn't get it and walked out past me. "But here." She handed me some gum, and I was quick to put it in my mouth. "You should totally call Julie and get the ring back. I mean . . . I don't know." She rambled as I shut the door. "If you don't want it, give it to me—I'll keep it, but don't let _her _keep it. I'd wear it on my right hand, or go to the jewelry store and make myself a necklace . . ." And on and on she went as we continued to walk down the corridor.

I stopped her when she said something that I found interesting. "What about Mom and Amelia?"

"Mom was going to church when I left, and then she was meeting Amelia and her stepmom for brunch."

"Oh . . ."

"If you go, I'll go…?"

"Go where?" I asked.

"To brunch…it's usually boring…snore." She chuckled.

"I'm going to guess it's just for you ladies." It'd be nice to see Amelia again so soon, though.

I smiled to myself.

"Whatever." Kylie slid into the backseat. "Come on, get in."

"In a minute." I lit a cigarette instead. Knowing Vito's rules—no smoking in the car—I was content to stand outside.

"You—nobody ever told me what happened between you and Julie. I only know you guys broke up, and the last time I saw you, you were up Amelia's butt," she giggled but was quick to compose herself. "Have you ever done that?" she whispered. "Butt sex?"

I grinned at my sister, who seems to be as random as I am, only she's vocal about it. "Yeah . . . a few times."

"Really? With who?"

"Julie." I pulled from my smoke.

"Wow . . . Did she like it? How did you—did you just wake up one day and say 'I'm gonna fuck Julie's ass'?" She covered her mouth with her hand. "Sorry, Vito."

He waved.

I leaned my hand on the roof of the car. "When you're with someone for years . . . you experiment, try to liven shit up—I dunno."

"But it feels good? Tell me." I never saw someone as excited about the concept of anal sex as I usually am.

"It—I don't think we should be discussing this." Kylie was still my baby sister. "You don't find this conversation weird?" Even if she was who she was, I actually didn't feel uncomfortable talking about it with her. It is what it is. It's better she learn from me than whatever bullshit Gio or some other fucker might push on her.

"No . . . not weird at all. Tell me about Amelia then." She smiled up at me. "At least tell me if she's just warming your bed until Julie wants you back…Is that what it is? You've been with Julie for as long as I can remember."

"I—"

She never gave me a chance to respond. "Can I have a cigarette?"

"No. What are you on fucking speed? Did'ju do some meth with Vito on the way over? Yakkity-fucking-yak." I tossed the cigarette into the street, leaving to put my bag in the trunk. When I slammed it closed, I went for the front.

"I don't do drugs!" Kylie shouted.

"For now," I whispered, knowing one day she might try them.

But was I doing what she said? My feelings—no matter what they are—always have a tendency to wane when it gets boring. I've dated others while Julie and I have been on breaks—had sex with others . . . one other chick, actually, and I didn't even know her. She'd fucked Sonny before me, and we're nasty, and I was just taking my turn. I lie about my prowess, so I'm not teased or ridiculed by my brother.

I'm horny as fuck all the time. But overall, sex has just never been terribly vital. Even Anthony, although he's young, he's slept with a few chicks, trying to be straight, and it just never worked out. God knows what he thought about to be able to go through with it, but at least he could.

The point is: I know there are plenty of fish in the sea. I just always go back to Julie. Yet, I equate being with her to that of a gay man having to screw a woman?

This time . . . I didn't want to go back to Julie. Amelia is amazing. True, we don't talk that much—we're always fucking when we see each other, we don't talk on the phone. We only text.

I have so much to gain by continuing with Amelia, and I really want to.

And I wanted to hate Kylie for making me think of Julie when I hadn't in so long. That one weekend, I just had so much on my mind. The weeks that have passed, it's been all about Amelia.

That was when I did a double take of the sidewalk. Julie was battling the October wind, wearing a green wraparound sweater. Her long brown hair was a mess, being blown away from her, and she wore formfitting jeans—my favorites. She says they're stretchy or whatever. All I know is they make her large bubble ass look fantastic.

Convenient, I thought.

Just my luck, I thought.

And then I was actually glad Amelia hit the bricks when she did.

My brother is an asshole and can't see the beauty in anything. Julie might be overweight from a medical standpoint, but she's beautiful. I've always loved her full figure and her face—Christ. Her face is breathtaking. Yet, she likes to hide behind her black, plastic framed glasses.

Despite what my eyes think, I knew she made the right decision—to break things off. The love I always had for her was still inside of me somewhere, right? Again, I was never in love with her. I still know that, no matter how caught off guard I am by her presence.

"Dame . . ."

"Um." I swallowed, watching Julie run up the steps to my building. She hadn't seen me. "Give me a second." My cell buzzed in my pocket as Julie stared at the entrance and placed her own phone to her ear.

Then I watched her face crumble . . . because I didn't answer.

She was still staring at the entrance and now crying . . . because of me.

"Damion!" Kylie left the car to stare at me. "What's your reluctance to get in the damn car?"

Julie heard her and turned to face me, but she didn't do anything.

"Give me a second," I told Kylie again. Then I left the car to go to Julie.

Feeling awkward, I placed my hands in my pockets.

Despite everything I thought, it was as though I was approaching a stranger. Things were just different.

"Hey . . ." She wiped her eyes.

I gave her a head nod.

"You look different." She folded her arms across her chest.

I shrugged my shoulders, staring at my feet.

"You're not wearing glasses . . ."

My eyes went to her hands, but she was covering them. I wanted to see if she was still wearing the ring.

"I thought we could talk . . . but if you're busy—I just—You weren't answering your phone. I've been trying to reach you for a while. I couldn't last any longer without seeing you."

I no longer see her on campus since she got a real job. She graduated three years ago with a bachelor's in business management. Meanwhile, she works a clerical job for an insurance company. She's been living back with her parents in Brooklyn. We were going to get an apartment close to campus. But I decided against it—deciding I spent too much time on campus to . . . not be on it.

It made sense.

And I thought it'd help me focus.

And the strain . . .

She pushed for the apartment because we'd at least see each other in passing.

And I _could_ have tried harder to see her, make time.

The need to do so just wasn't there.

"Um . . . I don't want this." She undid her self-hug to take off the ring. She was still wearing it. "I'm pathetic . . . just take it." She started crying again, holding the ring out. "Don't you have anything to say to me? After all these years—"

I stared at her outstretched palm and the ring—at a total fucking loss.

"You're not even going to speak to me?"

"Pawn it and buy some shit," I blurted.

"Damion, please . . ."

I shook my head no. "Then throw it in the garbage—"

"Like hell!" Kylie shouted. "Give it to me!"

"Get in the car!" I snapped, hollering back to her. She was practically hanging out the window of the backseat so she could hear us.

"Wow." Julie cracked a smile through her tears. "I don't think I've ever heard you yell before . . . except once in a while when we'd get carried away. When we were . . ." Now she was sobbing. "I miss you."

I tried to be sympathetic. "Don't cry."

"I'm sorry I accused you. I just—where do you sneak off to? And you didn't answer my calls . . ."

Rather than tell her I'd moved on, I racked my brain for an excuse. "You offered to give my brother a blow job," I said.

"What?" she screamed. "When did I—"

"Last Easter…?" I raised a brow.

"No!" she shouted. "Number one, I'd never do that to you . . . I—I love you, and I always have. Your brother skeeves me out." She snorted, shaking her head. "Take me to him . . . I don't remember. Us aside, I'd like to clear my name." She nodded. "I'd like to confront him, and you can be there."

I shrugged. "If you say you didn't—"

"No." She picked up her phone. "What's his number? I want to know when I offered to blow him."

I pushed her phone down. "We had a multitude of problems . . . We're always breaking up, just to get back together. I'm always busy. And I'm always going to _be_ busy, at least until residency is over."

"You're worth the wait." She tried to hold my hand.

I barely let her touch me and backed up a step. "I never cheated on you. Just know that . . . and that I—"

"What?" she asked, the tears still streaming.

"Just forget it." I put my hands up.

It was time for a change.

Maybe this chance meeting could be the closure we both needed.

Maybe it was time to say a final goodbye. Although I briefly thought about being a nice guy, just in case Amelia didn't work out.

"Damion . . ." She gritted her teeth, clamping her eyes closed. "Please."

I didn't say anything since I wasn't sure what to say.

"At least let me confront your brother," she sobbed.

"Stop crying. And no—"

"No . . . I mean, I can't." She covered her face.

"Just go home—"

"I can't believe he would say that. I barely remember last Easter." She hugged herself. "I just, I know you." She fisted my shirt, and I looked down to her hand. "You trust your brother . . . I thought you trusted me, too, but I know you'll believe him over me. I didn't do anything wrong. I never did that, but if you did . . . something, I can forgive you. I don't even want to know about it."

"I haven't . . . You want the truth?" I asked. "I never cheated on you, but . . . I met someone."

Julie held her chest, about to break down, or _have_ a break down. I didn't know, but I searched my pockets. "Do you have a tissue?"

She didn't answer me, just kept crying.

I sighed, looking out to the street. "Maybe Vito has some in the car—"

"Catch!" Kylie shouted, continuing to throw the small box of Kleenex out to us.

"Thanks." I took one out to help Julie clean her face. She refused, kept shaking her head and wouldn't let me. "Look at me." Grasping her chin, I wiped the mascara and tears away. "You need to relax."

She stopped my hand, taking a step toward me. "What do you mean 'met someone'? Was it just sex, or…?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does!" she sobbed.

I shook my head. "It really doesn't. Just know that I met her _after_ we broke up."

"Are we really done?"

I stepped back. "Yeah, it makes sense."

"Can we go see Sonny?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "I trust you didn't…offer to blow him, all right? But I met someone—I'm _with_ someone, and that's all I'll say about it." I went to walk away again, but she stopped me.

"Tell me—talk to me. Who is she?"

I shrugged. "That's irrelevant and none of your fucking business." Honestly, I tried not to laugh at her. She was being ridiculous, making this spectacle of herself in front of my building and my sister—who's as fucking nosy as my parents. "Just go home." Placing my arm over her shoulders, I walked her down the steps. "You'll be okay. You'll meet someone better—"

"No!" She shot up to hug me tightly. "Just please—Damion, don't." Julie hiccupped, hanging off of me like some ornament.

I looked up to the sky, wondering if God was playing tricks on me, but then my eyes fell on Kylie. My sister wore a pout, looking at this sad scene.

Taking Julie by the biceps, I refused to meet her gaze as I pushed her away. "Stop embarrassing yourself."

"Since when are you this cold?"

I didn't answer her because I didn't have a response. I thought the love I had for her was hidden somewhere inside me, but . . .

Whatever connection we had was gone. When we were together, it'd give me a twinge of something to see her in tears. Yet in this moment, her cries and pleas were comical at best—her giving a fuck when she hadn't before. It's her fear of being alone. I wasn't stupid enough to think that it was actually because of me.

She swallowed, stepping back. "I know you…It's serious with this person—whoever?"

"I don't know yet."

Julie shook her head. "She'll never love you like I do—as much. She'll never—"

Aggravated, I placed my hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I have to go." My words were slow, so she'd know the meaning. "Take care of yourself." Tired of the bullshit, I walked toward the car.

"Damion—"

"Go home!" I pointed away from myself. "You did this. I didn't."

"What?"

Frustrated, having all the things I ever wanted to say to her on the tip of my tongue, I whipped around to face her. All the times she actually did break my heart, all the times I never said a word . . . the back, the forth, the this, the that, the fucking whining, and the crying.

"It's your fault. Had you kept your fucking mouth shut, had you not been so fucking nosy, we'd be...we'd still be together. _You_ did this. _You_ broke up with me. _You_ didn't want me. For that? Fuck off." Feeling pleased, I went for the car again.

I was always her quiet little boyfriend, and I always followed her lead.

Fuck that.

I'm twenty four years old.

I'm a man, who the fuck was Julie to keep tossing me back and forth like this?

Why did I let her do that for so long?

But most of all, I was disappointed in myself—always having been this . . . shadow of a man, never opening my mouth because I didn't think anyone would give a shit about what I had to say.

And it's not like I cared . . .

Only now, I am tired of sitting back and watching my life pass by—without me saying a word, or seeking better because I'm willing to accept less than, content with what life had brought me.

The past is the past, and I was moving on.

"You'll be sorry!"

I felt something hit my back, but I refused to turn around.

"Oh, no you didn't!" Kylie shouted, leaping out of the car.

I stopped her, thinking she might be going for Julie. Yet, when I turned around, I saw Julie walking speedily down the block. She was never a fighter, always quick with a quip and then running away.

"Where is it?" My sister was frantic. "That bitch . . ." She searched the sidewalk.

"What?" I held my forehead, wishing I'd never gotten out of bed.

Kylie ran and then picked something up off the ground. "I got it!" She waved the engagement ring in the air victoriously. "Finders keepers." She turned to see where Julie had gone. "She's so stupid. A guy gives you a ring like this, you keep it. Right?" she asked me.

"Just get in the fucking car!" I pointed to it.

Kylie's eyes widened. "Geez." Without any more fanfare, she entered the backseat.

I followed, slamming the door shut after me. "We can go," I told Vito.

"Don't be rude." Kylie hit me.

I didn't say a word.

My sister poked my side.

"Stop." I slapped her hand away, staring out the window. Julie was still walking and crying, and I was fast to avert my gaze.

"That was cold, bro—really sad," Kylie whispered. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, and I really was fine.

"So . . ." I felt Kylie's eyes on me, and I think everyone in my family has a staring problem. "Damion . . .?"

I sighed, leaning back. "Can't you be quiet for five-fucking-minutes?"

"Hey!" Vito shouted. "That's enough outta you—being all nasty and shit to your baby sister. You don't talk to her like that. You hear me, kid? . . . And I'll be having a chat with your father."

I grinned, turning to Kylie. "Whenever you decide to let Gio fuck your ass, make sure he goes slow, and he uses a lot of lube—"

"What'd I say?" Vito was about to have a heart attack.

My sister ignored him, turning to face me. "Fingers first, right? That's what Natalie told me—it's gotta stretch before you just, you know, fuck it," she giggled.

Vito banged on the steering wheel.

I nodded. "Fuck the pill or condoms. Your best defense against pregnancy is taking it up the ass or swallowing." I laughed, looking out the window again, but then I turned right back to her while Vito shouted some more nonsense. "Seriously, though…get yourself checked out—make an appointment with your doctor."

.

.

.

.

.

**/=/=/=/=/**

**BELLA**

**/=/=/=/=/**

_**A**_fter Kylie left, I enjoyed a steaming hot cup of coffee. I even sat outside on the porch because it was so warm, as warm as sixty degrees is. Alas, today was likely one of the last nice days before the bitter cold set in.

"Morning." Edward poked his head out, squinting and looking a mess—tired and yet sexy as hell.

"Hey."

"Come inside." He looked around before he went back in.

I smiled, following after him. "You're up early."

He yawned, grabbing a mug out of the cupboard. "Yeah…"

"Wanna come to—"

"I'm not going to church." He cut me off. "I give them enough money."

"Enough not to feel guilty?" I giggled, going to sit at the table.

"Guilty?" he laughed, fixing his coffee. "The fuck I gotta feel guilty for?"

I shrugged, not commenting.

"Where's Kylie?" he asked. "Vito left me a message…I haven't checked it yet."

"Thank you," I said. I've asked him to tone it down a bit, to have more faith in our daughter. "She's at the salon."

He made a noncommittal sound, joining me at the table. "You coming home after church?"

"I'm going to brunch with Elena and the girls, and then I thought I might do some shopping…We can order out tonight, right?"

"Takeout, for Sunday dinner?" He didn't sound happy. "What are you shopping for anyway?"

I bit my lips together, hoping to evade the question. I've been holding out, fiending like some addict to buy a whole bunch of baby shit for my future grandchild. Edward thinks I'm ridiculous. Sonny wants me to tread lightly—something about Katie being uncomfortable when it comes to all our money, which is total bullshit. I reserve the right to spoil my grandchild.

"We talked about this," he said, taking my hand into his own. "Sonny asked us—"

"And it's horseshit!" I shouted. "Fucking Katie with her garbage issues…She doesn't want her kid wearing clothes that 'supposed' blood money bought. How the fuck does she think she came to have clothes on her back, went to college—she was practically born with a silver spoon in that fucking loud mouth of hers!" I ranted.

My husband stared at me.

"I'm just saying." I shrugged. "Our money is just as green as anyone else's. Fuck it."

"Just don't go crazy…Don't go spending—"

"It's not even about the money," I grumbled. "I haven't seen Sonny in so long—Katie either, and they're four blocks away. They're going to keep that kid from us. Watch…it'll happen." And I tried to keep the tears at bay. "Katie's coming to lunch, but only after I hunted her down. She kept avoiding my calls."

"Shhh." Edward pulled me to sit in his lap. "They won't keep the baby away. I promise." He kissed my temple. "I told Sonny to stop by, but…shit just kept coming up. I don't know."

Suddenly heartbroken, I nuzzled my face into his neck, holding onto him tightly. "They're even talking about getting a house in Westchester."

Edward chuckled, pushing my hair away from my face. "Katie's trying to sell that idea, but Sonny loves this neighborhood. At least he's set on passing the bar now, right?"

I nodded, sniffling. "I guess so . . . but now you have to run the club again. You won't be around—"

"Hey." He held my cheeks, making me look at him. "I have plans…and they don't include our children or an infant." He nibbled on my nose. "Maybe I'll go back to the club for a bit, but you and me…After Kylie leaves for Texas, we're going on vacations. Two weeks at a time, we'll go all over. You and me, baby."

I grinned. "Really?"

He nodded. "It's been a long time since it's just been us. And everyone will still be here when we get back." He rocked us. "Don't worry about Katie . . . Do you really think Sonny would let her keep the baby away?"

"I don't know," I sighed, blowing out a breath, reaching to wipe my eyes. "Things are just changing . . . and then there's Damion."

He squeezed me. "And you're doing everything you can to make sure he settles, aren't you?"

"Not settle . . . I'm just helping Amelia."

He looked confused. "How are you helping Amelia?"

"I just tell her things . . . about how not to smother him. If she comes on too strong, he might back off. You know?"

"That whole . . . be unavailable so he wants me more shit?" He smiled.

I nodded. "Yeah, you get it."

He shook his head. "That doesn't really work. If she's not attainable, he might say fuck it and seek someone who is." He hugged me tightly to him. "Don't get upset because of what I'm about to say . . . You introduced them, and now you should back off. Let them do their thing."

"I'm not upset." I knew he was correct. "I just want Amelia as my daughter-in-law. She'd never keep any babies away from me." And I was crying again.

"Katie won't do that either," he whispered. "I promise." His hands went to my hips, rubbing up and down the outside of my thighs. "You need to stop crying . . . Let me hit it real quick—give you something to smile about at church."

I giggled, shaking my head no. "Thanks for the laugh. I needed it."

"When did I say something funny?" He looked pissed now.

"Stop." I left his lap. "The way you said it made it funny—that's all." Grasping my purse from the counter, I looked inside to make sure I had everything. Sadly, my phone had a text from—not Katie—but Sonny.

Katie isn't feeling well and can't make it. "See?" I held up my phone to show Edward. "And _she_ can't even call…"

He didn't seem to care.

I scoffed at nothing, going for the door. Fuck church. I was going to Sonny's house—demand to know what Katie's beef was.

"You're just going to leave—leave me here?"

My eyes widened. "I didn't know I had to entertain you."

He looked around himself. "Tit for tat. I made _you_ feel better . . ."

"So, now I owe you sex?"

"Seems fitting." He shrugged. "Just—right up here." He patted the table. "You're wearing a dress."

I couldn't help myself and grinned. "I'm thinking about stopping by Sonny's—"

"Can of worms, Bebella . . . can of worms."

I spoke over him. "I'll have just enough time before I meet Elena—she's meeting me at Saint Anselm's." The doorbell rang, and I was literally saved by the bell.

"Oh!" Edward shouted. "Who the fuck is this now?"

"I don't know." I put my bag down to go for the door, but Edward shot up.

He entered the foyer, staring out the small window, as I slowly followed after him.

"Jehovahs?" I whispered, ready hide.

_We're Italian. We don't do witnesses. _

Silently, I snickered at my own stupid joke.

Edward shook his head. "It's Elena and Amelia."

"I said I'd meet them at—" I stopped talking when he opened the door. "Hey!"

"Good morning." Edward was all smiles, holding the door open for them.

"Morning." Elena looked very put together in a black pantsuit.

"Hi." Amelia waved, looking like absolute shit, like she just rolled out of bed. It was weird. She wasn't dressed for church at all.

"Sorry for stopping by like this—I know we'll be late." Elena pushed a bag into Amelia's arms. "Go change."

Amelia smiled as she walked up the stairs and past all of us. "Morning, Mrs. Cullen."

"Hello…" I stood there awkwardly, watching her go down the hall.

"Everything okay?" Edward asked Elena. "It seems _the world_ has problems."

"Um." Elena couldn't think up a response for that one.

"But no one cares about my problems." Edward stomped up the steps. "Or my needs," he said in my face.

I turned to smack his back.

He chuckled, knowing he was being an ass, going into the kitchen.

"Did we come at a bad time?" Elena asked.

"No."

"Yes!" Edward shouted from the kitchen.

"He's rude," I told her.

She waved a hand. "Luke, too—nothing new." Then her face broke out into this bright smile. "Sorry for—Amelia needed to change and wash up. She, uh, she spent the night in the city—with Damion."

"No!" I gasped.

"Yes." Elena squealed.

"EEEEEE!" I grabbed her hands as we jumped up and down. "They're having sex?"

She nodded. "It would appear so."

"YES!" I fist pumped the air. "Get it, baby boy!"

"I know, right?" Elena stuck her tongue out.

"What has she said, not about the sex, but…?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. She had a good time…she seems a bit down, though."

"Why?" My smile disappeared. "Did something happen or…?"

"I don't know."

I sighed, gesturing for her to come upstairs. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure." She followed me into the kitchen, which made Edward leave his chair.

"I'll leave you ladies to it . . . I guess you're not going to church."

"Oh." I looked to Elena.

"You should tell Amelia she can take a shower if she wants." Edward left the kitchen. His advice, though helpful, was totally fucking random.

"Thanks, baby." I waved to his back, turning to my friend. "She can if she wants. _After a night of fucking_…"

Elena giggled. "Yeah . . . I'll go tell her."

My smile was back in place as I fixed her coffee.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think Damion and Amelia would hit it off as well as they have. I knew I wanted Amelia as a part of the family. Not to mention how great a union between New York and New Jersey would be. There's no pressure, either. While I may be coaching Amelia on ways to get into Dame's heart, she wants in—she likes him, so she says, and I'm just being helpful. Plus, I'm not pushing my son, nor am I breaking his balls about it.

"She said thank you." Elena was back.

I squealed again.

"I know!" She was just as happy.

Elena told me the sad story of Amelia's birth mother years ago. The woman just didn't want her—didn't want Luke, didn't want the lifestyle. Amelia's mother raised her until she was five, and then just handed all parental rights over to Luke. Elena plays the role of mom.

I could never understand those people—people like Amelia's biological mother. A few years ago, she contacted her daughter, but Amelia didn't want anything to do with her.

Elena and I continued to bullshit and talk about our kids while we looked at lunch menus. Edward was here and none of the kids were, so I felt bad leaving him to go eat with the girls. He'll leave on his own, hearing all the gossip, and veg in front of the TV—until they leave and I can fuck his brains out.

Kylie would be home around dinnertime, and I wasn't sure what Sonny and Damion were doing. Knowing Dame, he'll sleep the day away. Sonny said something last night about needing to take inventory at the club today. Since that ho-bag Lori quit, Sonny has to do more managerial things.

We settled on Chinese, and then Amelia joined us. I told her to help herself and she went straight for the coffee pot. "Stop staring at me."

Instead, Elena and I faced each other. "You gotta tell us something," she told Amelia.

She sighed, bringing her mug over to the table. Now she was put together in slacks and a three-quarter-length sleeve button down, total church attire. Her hair was wet, too, but she wasn't wearing makeup. Amelia still seemed down in the dumps about something, but now dressed nicely.

"Talk to us," I said, a pit in my stomach. It was like . . . I was yearning for the information, craving gossip.

Amelia looked to me. "Maybe you can make sense of it—"

I was fast to say, "Most likely." Damion is, after all, my son.

"We had an amazing—uh-maz-ing night—"

"It was _that_ good, huh?" Elena was just as engrossed as I was.

Amelia gave her a short nod, wearing this wicked grin. "It always is—" Her eyes landed on me. "I mean—"

"Please, go on. Just—don't worry about it." I waved a hand. "Pretend I'm not his mom. Say whatever you want to. It doesn't leave this kitchen." My words were rushed, and I pushed that second cup of coffee away from myself. I was wired with the possibility of a juicy story.

"That's right." Elena grasped her hand. "We wives, and soon you might be one, we don't share with outsiders, or our husbands—not the relationship stuff that we talk about."

"He just," Amelia sipped her coffee, "he runs hot and cold."

"Oh." I slouched back in my chair, like it was old news, knowing where she was going now. Edward was the same way when we first got together—reel me in just to throw me back. It was exhausting.

"One minute, everything is fine—we're smiling, doing whatever. And the next . . . I say one wrong thing . . . and he shuts down, or he gets completely detached. It's tiring." She went for her cup again. "And he's so frustrating." She strangled the air. "It drives me crazy—he drives me nuts, but only because . . . while he's doing all this shit, I'm a pile of fucking goo. I accept the behavior because . . ."

"You have an overwhelming desire to please him?" Elena asked.

"In a way . . . but it's not exactly like that. It's more—it's okay, because I'm afraid of, of—"

"Losing him?" Elena finished.

I laughed, knowing my son wasn't going anywhere. He thinks he won the lottery, bagging Amelia. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"That's all. It's not even a month, and I'm head over heels." She sat up in the chair.

"It happens." Elena and I said in unison.

"You owe me a Coke." She gave me a fist pound.

I snorted. "Make that a rum and Coke and you got a deal."

Her eyes lit up. "What are you wearing to the Halloween party?"

"Um…I'm not sure yet. I was thinking of—since Edward hates wearing costumes—I thought we'd go as Bonnie and Clyde."

Elena gasped. "That'd be fucking adorable and hot, and . . . ironic in some way?"

I nodded. "But Edward is being Edward because Kylie wants to come with us. It's no big deal to me. I'd love it if she joined us. I don't know who's performing, but we'd all have a good time. We can close off the V.I.P. area, and I won't drink. But Edward says—because we're women and it's the one night a year we're allowed to dress slutty without a care—having Kylie and me with him . . . he knows he's going to have to shoot someone." I rolled my eyes. "What about you and Luke?"

"Oh, we're going as masquerade people. I have a gown. He has all his suits, and I bought eye masks. He's boring."

"Hello!" Amelia waved.

"I'm sorry, dear," Elena said.

I turned in my seat, giving them all my attention. "Tell us everything. We're sorry."

Amelia nodded. "Okay, so . . . it's what I said before, and . . . I kinda checked his phone while he was sleeping. Um—I know that's a wrong move, but I saw her name in his call log, over and over. He's not over his ex. Fucking Julie . . . Is it wrong that I wanna meet her? I mean, she was with him for years."

"You have nothing to worry about. He's so over her," I disagreed. "When you two are together . . . I can see it." I didn't want to come right out and spill the beans—tell her that I knew my son was in love with her. "Plus, Edward told me that Damion told him that Julie keeps calling. I know, for a fact, that Damion hasn't spoken—_actually spoken_—to her since they broke up. She's calling him, but he's not answering."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"Oh." She looked relieved. "We haven't spoken about being exclusive either—"

"Why does that have to be discussed?" Elena asked. "When I met your father, we dated . . . but he's bossy and just flat out said I was _his_ woman." She shrugged.

"Things are different for each couple," I said. "Edward and I had that discussion. It ended with him threatening the life of anyone I potentially slept with while shit was up in the air . . . I said what's good for the goose . . . and we both came to an agreement."

"I don't even know how I'd broach the subject with Damion. We start talking and then . . . and then." Her eyes widened. "And then we're naked."

"Nice..." I nodded.

"Remember those days?" Elena scrunched her nose, smiling. "God. I miss that shit."

"It's not nice. I don't know what's up or down . . . Yet, I find myself bending over backwards to please him, like you said." She pointed to her mother. "He has this control, you know?" She faced me.

"Yeah, well. You're dating a Cullen." I didn't know what else to say—the hot, the cold, the control. "But," I smiled, grabbing her hand, "if he didn't give a shit, if he didn't feel for you, he wouldn't be acting that way." What Edward said came to mind, and it was like a light bulb flicked on. "When you try to distance yourself, is that when he gets pissy? Shuts down?"

She furrowed her brow. "Oh my God. Yes. I mean, if I could, I'd spend every waking moment with him. When we're not together, it's all about, 'how or when am I going to see him again'. But I'm trying really hard to give him space—as much as it…kind of hurts." She held her necklace, blowing out a breath. "I'm pathetic."

"Forget what I said," I whispered. "Just do what you feel is natural—what's good for you guys, yourself." I gestured to her.

I found it odd that Damion would get upset when she gave him space. My son is a very private person, and that's where most people go wrong with him. They're intrusive. And just like Edward, when someone is like that, Damion will distance himself.

However, I'm exempt from that with Edward. I can get as close, as naggy, as fucking—whatever I want. He loves me more than there are stars in the sky, and so I'm allowed.

My son was truly in love—confused—wants Amelia just as much as she wants him.

Only, Damion is probably afraid of getting hurt. He won't be the first to say it, and he will eventually pull away—he won't bother, he'll give up—unless Amelia throws herself at him. Not literally. I mean, metaphorically, she has to hand Damion her heart.

"I'm supposed to stay for dinner tonight. Damion invited me."

"He's coming?" I didn't even know.

"Yeah," she sighed, massaging her forehead. "I said we needed to talk, which we do, but he shot it down."

"Be honest. Talk to him, open yourself up." I became a giddy mess, wondering just long it would be until I was planning another wedding. "Tell him how you feel."

"I can't do that." She held her heart. "What if—"

"He loves you, too?" I raised a brow.

"What if he doesn't . . ." She gulped, covering her face with her hands to groan.

I puffed my cheeks, now an anxious mess. "You at least have to have the exclusivity chat."

"That's right," Elena said. "And maybe you could hint? Tell him how much you _like_ him?"

"I guess so," she whispered, getting all quiet.

A silence loomed while I thought about how I could get her to open up, and Elena perused the Chinese takeout menu.

"Should I call Luke?" Elena asked. "We can hold off—eat when he gets here, and he'll keep Edward company?"

I bit my lip, unsure if Edward would want him here. "Lemme see if Edward has any plans." I looked to Amelia. "You have to tell him how you feel—not that you're in love exactly . . . Pry, tell him you don't want him seeing anyone else but you, spend as much time with him as you want to. He's not going to deny you—unless he's got shit to do with school. You know what I mean. I was wrong to tell you to . . . keep your distance, so to speak. You guys have to do what's good for Damion and Amelia. Right?"

She nodded.

"I'll be right back." I left the table to seek out my husband. It's nothing against Luke; I just know Edward likes to limit his contact with certain people. Luke might be one of them, regardless of anything going on with our kids.

"Hey."

Edward was in his office, sitting in his chair and staring out the window. "It's nice today." He pointed.

"It is." I closed the door after myself. "We're gonna order Chinese for lunch."

"Get fried dumplings."

"Sure," I giggled. "But…Elena wanted to know if she could invite Luke."

Edward shrugged. "I don't give a fuck."

"Okay, cool. Sorry for disturbing."

"I'm taking the week off," he said. "Fuck this—fuck everyone's problems." He stood from his desk. "Shit isn't going to fall apart if I'm not around for a week."

"It's not," I agreed.

Edward pulled me into his arms. "You and me—a few days away?" He pecked my nose.

I was surprised. "Definitely."

"Where should we go?"

I hopped to nip his lips. "I don't give a flying fuck—just get me outta here, Skip." Since they went away, I was jealous of Alex and Carlisle. True, we have more privacy than they do on a daily basis, but Edward and I never go anywhere. At least she gets a vacation every once and a while.

And a few days away, where Edward could ravish me over and over, and no one can hear me scream . . . Heaven.

Booze, getting drunk without a care. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, taking walks, there's sure to be a Jacuzzi, and . . . just us.

He chuckled, softly kissing my lips. "How 'bout, one day, we just get in the car and drive?"

"Sounds good." I loved this playful, carefree side of Edward that I hardly see.

"Kylie can stay with Carlisle and Alex, or Sonny."

I nodded, deciding not to throw out the idea of her staying alone. It wouldn't be about wild parties, or wild sex—Gio's in Texas—it's about her safety. "We'll let her decide."

Edward whacked my ass, grunting and giving it a squeeze. "I should go get dressed."

"You should," I agreed, looking down to his flannel PJ pants as we heard a car pull up outside.

"Who else is here now?" Edward left me to go to the window. "Dame and Kylie are here."

"They are!" I was excited again. "Wait…why would they show up together?"

"Does it matter?" he asked.

"Guess not, but who's at the salon?" It was rude to just abruptly leave Edward's office like I did.

Since I didn't know who was scheduled, or if my daughter _just didn't feel like_ opening today, I went to seek answers.

"Who's at the salon?" I asked Kylie.

She was skipping up the walkway, holding onto Dame's arm. "Nancy."

"I thought she couldn't work today."

"She changed her mind." My daughter was lying to me about something—I felt it. "I missed Dame. I went to pick him up."

"'Sup, Mom?" Damion kissed my cheek, walking around me to get into the house with his bag of laundry. "Can you wash my clothes?"

"Put it in the garage." I turned back to Kylie. She went to follow Dame, but I stopped her. I'm not stupid. When something's wrong, Kylie runs to Damion. It's just what she does. If she's desperate, or has a _major_ problem with_ us_, she'll seek Sonny. Although he's usually in agreement with us—Kylie's judge and jury—Sonny comes to her defense. "Are you okay? What—"

"I'm more than okay—I'm fan-flippin'-tastic, Momma!" She slapped my ass, going into the house.

"But who's at the salon?"

"I told you—Nancy. I worked five days this week. Six days is too much—it already bores me to tears."

She was right, I had no cause to complain or call her lazy. I didn't even know she was working today until she told me this morning.

"Mrs. Cullen!" Vito shouted.

"Oh, shit," Kylie said from behind me, grabbing my elbow. "Vito is a liar. And he's old—might be demented."

"Huh?"

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Kylie shouted, and then laughed her ass off. "Get it? He's a Dementor?"

"Yeah, I got it." I shook my head.

"Just don't talk to him." My daughter pulled me into the house, closing the door on Vito.

"Kylie Marie!" I couldn't believe her. "What the hell?" It's one thing to goof around, but closing the door on the old man while he strolled up the walkway . . .

She scoffed. "I'll apologize . . . he's like a tail I can't shake. He's mad at me. Damion and me—we were being fresh, got on his nerves."

"Oh." I actually thought that was funny.

"I'll talk to him." She left the house and was fast to close the door after herself. I stared, hoping I could make their words out. But all I saw was Vito doing a lot of talking, waving a finger, while Kylie had her head down. I think she said, "Please don't tell my dad" and "We were only kidding around".

And the end result was a hug.

Kylie can bitch and moan all she wants, but I know she has a friendship with Vito. He _is_ like a grandfather to her, and I know all about developing attachments where drivers are concerned. They're around all the time, look out for you, and Vito is old school—barely says a word. They have their little friendship, which is all kinds of cute.

We went wrong having Joe drive her that one time. Overall, although I don't like him, he's very handsome and I can see how he might be charming. Honestly, all he did was take her and Gio to prom. The rest? They bonded because Joe was around to drive Edward—us—he was Edward's bodyguard.

My husband always has one of his guys with him now, unless we're home and not going anywhere.

Kylie came back in wearing a smile.

"Awww," I teased. "I saw that hug."

Her eyes widened, like she was embarrassed. "So, what?"

"You have him wrapped around your finger."

She snorted. "He's like my pet—does whatever I say, takes me wherever. He threatens to tell Daddy everything, but in the end . . . he doesn't," she giggled. "But no. Vito's just…Vito."

"Yeah, okay." I knew she was full of shit. "Having an old, bald man as a pet…"

"Ugh. You make it sound like—ugh. He's like seventy." She shuddered.

I laughed at her. "I'm gonna tell Gio..."

"Oh my God!"

"Look at you . . . relax." It was still funny, but she wasn't laughing.

"Um…" Kylie stared at her feet for a second too long. "Can you make me an appointment—for Dr. Scott?" she whispered.

Suddenly alarmed, I got in her face. "Why? What's wrong?" I held her biceps.

"Nothing that I know of. Geez . . . If Joe fooled around with Carli, I mean. I don't know." She backed away.

"Smart move. I'll call first thing tomorrow, but . . . Honey, you can could have called, too. At the first suspicion or whatever—you keep telling us that you're a woman . . . As a _woman_, woman-up, take care of your shit." Maybe I could have sugarcoated that or had more finesse. "You can make your own appointments. If there's something wrong, if—"

"I think—know I'm okay," she said, and then stared up the stairs. We heard laughing coming from the kitchen. "Amelia is here?"

I nodded. "We're going to order in some lunch."

"Great. Just great!" She threw her hands up, which was such an Edward move.

I caught her before she ran away. "What's wrong now?"

"Me and Dame-y had plans, that's all."

"And you guys can still fart around the house . . ." I didn't see a problem. "I thought you liked Amelia." I brought my voice down.

"I do. I like her a lot. It's just . . ." She pursed her lips. "Can I hang out with you and Elena? I don't wanna see Amelia and Damion together," she whispered. "It's like—any couple. It makes me sad."

I touched her cheek, understanding. "Of course. We'll even talk about sex…just for you." I poked her nose. "Come here, pervert baby." I pulled her into my arms for a hug. "Same rules still apply. I want you to be more responsible...get used to doing things yourself." I squeezed her as tightly as I could. "But you, _you_ can talk to me—not Damion—_me_ about anything. I know you guys are close, but he's not your mom. I know things." I smiled.

"Don't be sweet. You'll make me cry."

I laughed and rubbed my mush's back. "You're a pervert-baby-mush." I blew a raspberry into her neck.

"Just don't talk about you and Dad—that'd be gross."

"Tee-hee," I giggled, remembering what she told me she said to her father. "We're sexual beings—"

"Ugh!" After that loud groan, she left the foyer.

"Very much so!" I shouted after her.

She put her fingers in her ears, entering her bedroom.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. See you Wednesday . . . I'll try my best to hold off on updating until then. **

**It's hard. LOL.**

**Next up: Sonny POV**

**Have a wonderful weekend!**


	15. Baby Blues

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**In honor of my birthday tomorrow, I'm updating again :-)**

**Enjoy**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Fifteen: Baby Blues**

**Sonny POV**

**A**t a quarter past seven, I gazed at my watch, wondering what was taking Katie so fucking long. We were to leave at seven, and I told her this. I even came from Eclipse just to pick her ass up and bring us to La Bella Italia.

AJ started a new tradition a few years back. In the fall, he introduces a whole new menu. True, I'll still order my all-time favorites—shit I've been eating all my life. But this was a big thing for our family—our group.

It's an excuse for the guys to take their wives out—to a venue they can actually attend. It's no party. Everyone will be paired off with their immediate people, at their own tables, but getting up and talking to others is quite common, too.

"Let's go!" I boomed down the hall.

"Two minutes!"

"Now!"

"Excuse me?"

"Fucking hurry up!" She was trying my patience at this point. "Don't turn this into a fight."

Katie emerged from the bedroom in a navy blue, high-waisted dress. I don't know women's fashion. It was tight around the tits and was loose—flowed down.

"I'm hideous." She pouted. "Maybe I shouldn't go."

I shook my head, damn near falling over myself to stop her from running back into the bedroom. "You're gorgeous."

"You're just saying that so I won't change again."

Smirking down to her, I put her hair behind her ears. What she said was true. "You look beautiful. Please don't change...your clothes." I hoped she'd get my hidden meaning, and I hugged her, making sure to be gentle.

It's weird, but she's gotten so much bigger within the past couple of weeks. We're fixing the guest room—making it a nursery until we know what we're doing. We can't seem to agree on anything, especially when it comes to living arrangements. But she pushed—to make a home for us here—to stop us from fighting about that.

I wish she took the same liberties where our other problems are concerned.

But then life would be boring, right?

"You sure?" She slouched, almost as if she was trying to hide the bump.

"Yes," I laughed, nipping her lips. "You're going to be the hottest chick there."

She giggled, looking down into her purse. "We have to pick up my mom and Gil."

"Gil?" I asked.

"This new guy she's dating . . . I told her you got a limo—"

"Oh, and now she wants to hitch a ride wit' us? Okay." I grabbed for Katie's jacket. "The limo was for you and me—maybe we could do something after dinner." Although I kept talking and holding up Katie's coat, she pretty much ignored me.

"I'm not wearing that one." She waddled away from me, grabbing a sweater.

I gently spanked her ass on the way back to get her attention.

She swatted my hand. "Behave, Mr. Cullen."

"Yeah, right." I pulled her ass into my dick. That was my hope for tonight. A nice dinner, the limo—we can't have champagne, but we can have ginger ale and pretend. It was supposed to be romantic—get me laid since Katie hasn't put out since she first moved in . . . three weeks ago.

But who's counting?

I mean, where the fuck was the passion that got us into this mess in the first place? Where had that gone?

"I hope your mom doesn't get on my case." That was another issue altogether.

"Don't be surprised if she approaches you." I grasped her hand. "We ready?"

"Don't _let_ her approach me."

I stopped to stare at her. "You've been ducking the woman for weeks. Nothing short of God being in that restaurant is going to stop her. You reap what you sow."

She stared up at me in disbelief. I knew that face. "You're going to let her berate me in public?"

I rolled my eyes. "She's not gonna make a scene. Relax."

"Still . . . I'm—I'm not your wife, but . . . you could at least take my side—"

"I'm neutral, okay? I can see your side and hers. She doesn't care if you're constipated, have low self-esteem, hate me, or are down in the dumps—whatever your problem is for the day. All she wants is to chill, and you're content to go to work and hide in this place." I widened my arms.

She snorted. "Yeah, take Mommy's side . . . Screw me. I'm just carrying your child and went through some major life changes recently. But take her side—"

"Don't—" I grasped her bicep and let go, about to lose my temper. "Can we just go have a nice dinner? I know you're hellbent on being a bitch to everyone, but fuck!"

She gasped.

And I didn't give a shit.

"Let's go." After another slap to her ass, I ushered us out of the apartment.

_Ever since she moved in . . ._

Katie went from being normal to what she is now—a bitch. She used to be sweet, my Katie. Even if we only saw each other in passing, she'd always been kind—nice to everyone around her. Who the fuck was this person? Sadly, I had no idea. Even sadder than that, I wasn't too fond of the person I was getting to know now.

But I needed this to work. I needed to put my whole heart into trying to repair us.

"Do you love me?" I asked once we were in the limo.

"You know I do."

"You sure? Because it doesn't feel that way." Content, I stared out the window.

I felt her grab my hand. "I've been doing my own thing for a long time. I'm—I'm trying to adapt."

"Why do you even have to try?" I didn't understand that at all. "Try for what?"

She sighed, rubbing her stomach.

"She kicking again?" I asked.

"Like Chuck Norris on speed." Katie took my hand, placing it to the lower left side of her abdomen. It was a flutter, a soft knock against my hand.

It made me chuckle. "Hey, baby girl…"

She kicked again.

"Keep talking," Katie said softly. "She can hear you."

I leaned over to rest my head on the bump. "I don't know what kind of parents you'll be born to . . ." I decided to spill my guts to my kid. "I thought everything would be so easy. I love your momma . . . but things just aren't working out." I felt Katie weave her fingers into my hair. "I hope there will be a wedding. Mommy doesn't wanna get married until you're out. So, you'd be there . . ." I tried to think of other things to say—in the only way I knew that wouldn't result in a fight. "I'm changing—doing a whole bunch of things, so you can have a dad you'll be proud of. I just hope Mommy's proud of me, too. You know?" I tapped that area, and I got a knock back. "Yeah, you get it. It must be tough hearing us fight all the time . . . Hopefully it won't be that way after you're born."

"Sonny . . ." Looking up, I saw tears streaming down Katie's cheeks. "What's wrong with us?"

I shot up to gather her into my side, placing my lips into her hair. "I'm doing everything you asked me to . . . there are things I can't change. I'm only asking you to meet me halfway."

"I'm 100% against that part of your life." She sniffled. "It's hard . . . I don't expect you to understand. But I told you . . . I can't be the wife you want, the kind a man like you needs."

"Stop." I kissed her cheek. "I'm not asking you to give up your career, be barefoot and pregnant in my kitchen, making me pasta. This isn't a movie of the week. This is _us_—we can make our _own_ rules, but you're not trying to hear anything."

"No." She squeezed my hand. "You need someone you can open up to—be totally honest with, talk about things, and that's the role the wife usually plays. I'm telling you. I don't want anything to do with that side of you. You're so aggressive; it scares the fuck out of me. One day, one day you'll go too far."

I snorted. "Not for nothing, if I haven't taken a swing at ya yet . . ." She didn't find my joke funny. "You know I'd never hurt you. Stop with that . . . We also have to talk—not argue. Please." Unfortunately, I didn't know what to say. I had no idea how to sell myself to her any more than I already had. "We love each other. The rest? It shouldn't be this hard."

She didn't comment, crying quietly and wiping her eyes.

"You hate the thing that much?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

What I told my brother weeks ago still applied. Katie did everything to remove herself, and I was wrong for trying to condemn her to it. I'm selfish for wanting to fight for it. And if she wasn't pregnant, if the baby definitely wasn't mine, would I have pushed this hard? Or would I have let her go? Which is what I'd intended to do years ago.

"I'm scared of it—of what it means. Sooner or later, your father's luck is going to run out. He'll take my dad, you, everyone around him down with him—including your mother. Bella won't be able to survive that."

"No offense, but you don't know dick about what my mother can or cannot survive." I snorted without humor.

"You're such a fucking momma's boy. How can I compete?!"

"Please." I put my hand up. "No one's asking you to compete. And how can I be this momma's boy?" I asked. "You tell me . . . since we got back together, it's been all about Katie. Not once have I seen my family or have been to a Sunday dinner. Just stop."

"You see this?" She gestured between us. "I can't say anything."

"Neither can I, it seems . . . But you don't know what you're talking about, so stop." She really had no fucking clue, and there's nothing I hate more than people harping on shit they don't understand. "I operate a night club. I own the brokerage near the restaurant—I'm taking the bar exam. What's illegal about those things?"

"Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not." I let go of her hand. "Be stubborn, keep going like this, and you'll destroy us—whatever we are." Pushing my hair back, I faced her. "I'm not asking for the moon here. All I want is for you to pick out a house, somewhere here in Brooklyn, stop being so fucking bitchy and picking on everything I do, and just—go to lunch with my mom twice a month. Open up, fuck. You were more down to chill with everyone before we got back together."

"It was different."

"How?" I asked.

"I wasn't one of you guys. Now I'm enmeshed in this world, and I know I'll see a whole new side of it."

I rolled my eyes. "My family is my family. You've known them all your life. You're acting like I'm going to push out into the street and have make bones or something," I laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing," I sighed. "But you pushing them away now is just . . . it's the dumbest shit I ever heard."

"Now I'm dumb?"

"_It_—what you're doing is dumb. Don't switch my words around," I said as we came to a stop in front of Lauren's apartment building. "And you _want_ to be my mother's friend. Trust me. Your mom doesn't seem that excited about her." I touched her stomach. "She'll help—my mother will bend over backwards to help us, whatever we'd need."

"Your family buys affection. Bella just wants to throw money at us."

"Bullshit!" I shouted. "That's a fucking lie and a half and you know that."

"However," she spoke over me, "my mother is stoked about the pregnancy. You don't know what you're talking about. Mom even mentioned coming to stay with us to help after—"

"What?" I snapped. "Fuck no. That is _not_ happening."

"Bet you wouldn't mind Momma Bella sleeping on our couch."

I groaned, holding my breath, hoping I'd keep it together. "First of all, your mother only comes around when it suits her, when she can get something out of the deal. Your father cut her off a long time ago...It's like she's reaching for scraps—"

"You don't even know how hard Mom had it after Dad kicked her out. That's why I never wanted anything from him—"

"Kicked her out? Maybe your father has too much class, won't tell you what really happened back in the day. It'll make your victim, Saint of a mother look bad—" I gritted my teeth. "It's not my business. But do you know your parents at all? I know years ago, you thought this way, but...haven't they ever sat you down?" I asked, and now I was trying to keep a straight face. "Aro got married in secret, but it wasn't—"

"My father only thinks about himself. You know that and I know that." She looked out the window.

I didn't see any point in trying to argue with her, not while she was being this stubborn.

"Why are we even trying?" she whispered.

I didn't know either, and I was suddenly scared to open my mouth.

"If this doesn't, if we don't work out, how will we—"

"It _has to work out_—we just need time." My stomach was a knotted mess. "Don't talk like this." I touched her lips. "We need time to get to know each other again. I promise to keep my work out of our house—out of our relationship. But I need you to stop bringing up my occupation to win fights." I called a spade a spade. She throws out that wild card whenever it suits her. "What I do to make money, doesn't affect me—us as a couple—at all."

"You're right. We're different now. I'm different, things are different." She shrugged. "We both finished school. I met Raul, got married. We were poor, lived more like roommates, and I was sleeping with you every once in a while . . . yet I was content."

"Well, you can't have us both now. Fuck!" I stared at her in disbelief. "Do you hear yourself? You're insane." I wondered if this pregnancy was truly fucking with her head, or if she was just this goddamn spastic nowadays. "Baby." I grasped her hand. "Maybe you should go see someone. Maybe—maybe counseling? I'm not opposed to that as long as you keep my job out of the convo."

She dropped my hand. "I'm not crazy. I was just thinking out loud. That's what I did when I was with Raul because I couldn't seem to stay away from you."

"Now you have me . . . You have me all to yourself, and you're still unhappy."

"I mean, I've been far removed from it all. It's a lot to get used to...adapt to." She melted into my side. "I love you like crazy, but what if love isn't enough? Furthermore—"

The door opened, and I was saved—saved from having the dreadful, yet inevitable, conversation.

"Hello, hello!" Lauren announced.

I grinned, taking her hand and helping her inside. "Good evening."

"Don't you clean up nice." She touched my tuxedo jacket. "This is Gil."

"How you doing?" He was balding and middle-aged, and I was sure Aro would get a kick out of him as he shook my hand.

"Not too bad," I lied, all smiles.

Conversation between Katie and me came to a complete stop. We had small talk with her mother and this cat. He's an insurance broker for a moderately sized firm out in Queens. They met online through Plenty of Fish, and after countless emails and texts, here they are—on their third date.

Katie and I smiled and nodded, while she'd poke my side every few minutes. It made me smile, our tiny interaction. We were thinking the same thing, and I just knew we were. This guy was boring, and her mother will eat him alive.

Were Katie and I doomed to be more like roommates, too? I really didn't want that. Then again, if we could just have sex all the time, and not talk? We'd get along just fine. Or, if we could just get along period . . . We goof, have laughs, and some crazy hot sex . . . when we have it. It's the rest—making decisions, those life decisions. And then there are those times where it's just hell. I'm pissy and she's snotty—and it's all because we put each other off.

"I love you," I whispered into her ear. We were outside the restaurant now, and I didn't want anything to look amiss between us.

She placed her hand on my cheek and a sweet kiss, one that was just too short, on my lips. "Love has never been our problem."

I swallowed, nervous suddenly.

Katie turned to her mother. "Why don't you guys go ahead?"

Lauren nodded, grasping Gil's hand. "Let's go—you can meet AJ." They continued to talk as they left the limo. As soon as the door closed, I turned to Katie.

"Don't do this. We need more time..."

Her face crumbled. "Whatever happens . . . I just—I need us to stop fighting, or we need to figure things out before the baby comes."

"So…you're just ready to give up?" I refused to tear up, trying to ignore the lump in my throat.

"No. I don't know what I'm saying."

"Tomorrow night—tomorrow night we'll try this again, a date. We'll go on a date, just you and me." I kissed her temple. "I think if we get to know each other again—"

"We know enough." She sniffled. "I want you. I want us to work. I just don't think we will." She wiped her face. "I'm scared of settling, but you—we won't be happy. You'll find someone else, but we'll be married, and—"

"Stop." I shook my head, not wanting to look at her, sick of the shit she was saying. "If you can't trust me—"

"I want to, but I can't."

"Just—just stop crying." I snatched up a tissue to help her out. "You need to have more faith in me. I'm willing to do anything it takes—anything, Katie—to gain your trust, although I never gave you a reason not to trust me. I'm willing to do anything to make this work."

"You shouldn't have to. I'm just saying."

"Katie—"

"This is just as shocking to me as it is to you," she said. "I really thought—I thought once I left Raul, once I moved in—"

"Everything would fall into place."

"Yeah." She curled into my side.

I kissed her hair. "Let's just live—put all decisions on hold for a while. We'll get things ready for the baby. We'll do baby things and spend time together. We'll only focus on Sonny and Katie, and forget about the world. I'll take time off—"

"Ignoring a problem won't make it disappear."

"I know that." I scratched my head.

"For now, we should—we should put a hold on things. I'll sleep in the guest room. We'll try to get along without actually being together. We're stuck with each other now." She placed my hand on the bump.

"Stuck together." I hated the way she said that, but in an odd way it was comforting. "We're breaking up—now, in a fucking limo? We just got back together." Weirdly, I wasn't angry, just sad, because I'd known—felt it in my bones—that this was coming. Some time, during the last few weeks, I accepted it . . . to an extent. It was still incredibly disappointing as I thought she was what I had been missing from my life. It turns out...that void I feel is still there, and I can't make heads or tails of it.

"Hey . . . she's yours, ours. I won't take her from you. Know that from now. We can be parents without being married."

I had nothing to say—didn't know what to say.

"And . . . I don't know. If I can stay until I find an apartment—"

"You don't have to go anywhere." I looked into her eyes, trying to see Katie—the real, MY Katie. "You really want this? After all this time—after everything?"

Her lip quivered. "All I know is we can't keep going the way we have been. Maybe if we're friends...I don't know. That spark will just come back to us? But I doubt it will. I'm sorry."

I nodded, because I completely agreed with her. I am who I am, and no matter how much she tries to change me, I'm different—I'm not seventeen anymore. Neither is she, and I can't change her either . . .

"We have the potential to be best friends—we always were. If we stopped, went back to the way things were, without Raul in the equation, of course. We could—what we'd have could be great." She smiled through her tears. "Right?"

I shook my head. "Now I don't understand. You're absolutely correct. We're pretty much best friends who fuck already, and—do you have any complaints as far as sex is concerned?"

"Not at all. That's—that's the best part of this whole thing. The sex? I'm just being honest." Her eyes trailed down to my cock.

"Then...why aren't you fucking me?" I asked. "I'm here...you can...help yourself." I gestured to my dick. "Hey, we might not be as bitchy."

It's ironic, totally fucking ironic, that she's living with me, and yet this the longest—fucking longest—I'd ever gone without pussy. I was sure it was fucking with my head already. Before, I craved a connection, but I was never starved for affection. And I never tried—nor did I ever see something with another person that wasn't there. I always thought it was Katie, that was why I never had the urge to seriously date, or even date in general. Those countless conquests served their purpose, and then I'd move on.

Guess I just haven't met that special someone yet.

I thought it was Katie I'd been missing . . .

"I feel gross." She grimaced. "I meant usually...like our sex is always good. I always come, and you are incredibly good-looking."

"So, we have no problems in the bedroom. I'm not complaining either," I pointed to myself, "_when_ we actually do fuck it's amazing. We're best friends . . . we're having a child together, but us actually being together can't work? How? Isn't all of that a contradiction?"

She was quiet and searching my eyes now. "Can we move away?"

"What?" I was confused.

"We leave everything behind. You can take the bar exam in any state. I can teach anywhere." She sounded desperate. "We can live in a suburb in Pennsylvania. You walk away from—from your father's business. You give up Eclipse—you and me. We start a life together somewhere away from all of this."

"I took an oath—"

"And that's more important than us?" she whispered.

"I can change everything about myself, except that one aspect, which doesn't even _define_ me." I was exasperated again. "That won't hinder my ability to be a good husband and a good father. And I can't walk away even if I wanted to. You know that."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to be followed by the F.B.I. for the rest of my life. I don't want the glitz and glamor, or to be a widow, or to have to pick up and hide one day—go to your trial, or your funeral. I want a husband—I want a house, and our daughter. I want simple things."

"You wouldn't—"

"You can't even promise me that shit won't happen." She was correct. "And as much as I want to, I can't overlook it. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

"Me too," I whispered, feeling very low.

"If you spoke to your father—I'll even talk to mine. There might be a way. We can move—get away, maybe you _can_ get out."

"I don't want out, but I would—for you—_if_ I could. Again, there's no_—absolutely no—_walking away. If I_ had_ the choice and you gave me this ultimatum, I'd do it—I'd say fuck it all, and we'd move wherever, as far away as you wanted. I'm willing to give you everything I have, including myself, but you want the one thing I can't give you. Why? Why can't we just live and be together, and see where life takes us? We could have a great thing—"

"You want to be Boss one day, and you will . . . I don't even know how I'd feel if I took that away from you." Her tone was hushed.

"I don't. I'm content right where I am. I fly under the radar because I'm just a capo, basically a nobody."

"A nobody. Yeah, right. Our fathers are sitting back these days while you pick up the slack."

"I don't want to talk about that anymore. If you wanted to be my wife, I'd tell you anything you wanted to know, but you don't, and I don't feel comfortable discussing that shit." I groaned, rubbing my forehead.

"You don't trust me either!"

I wasn't going to answer that. "Where does this leave us now?"

"It's like there's a war in my head." She was crying again. "I feel I can't live without you, you, Sonny. Yet, I can't—we can't—" Her body was racked with sobs.

"Shhh." I held her close, knowing exactly how she felt. "Same rules still apply. You want me, I'm here—I'll always be here."

My stomach rolled with nausea at the thought of my life going back to the way it was. Katie would be a friend, the mother of my child, but that's about it. I didn't want to care about dating and other broads, or getting laid, but . . . yeah. Katie was right. I'm at this point in my life where I need someone in my corner. I want to settle down, although I'm scared shitless of getting to know someone new. I wanted, hoped, and prayed that Katie would be that person for me.

"We can't keep doing this."

I kissed her cheek. "I mean, if you change your mind. You're right. We don't have to be married to be great parents."

"We'll always know each other."

"At least until this kid's eighteen." I pushed her hair away from her face. "I love you." That one fact remained true. Maybe I wasn't _in_ love with Katie anymore, but I still loved the fuck out of her.

"I love you, too. And . . . I think—regardless—she'll be proud of you."

"Thank you," I sighed. "You're really breaking up with me? You're done?"

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." And I really was.

We gave ourselves a few minutes where we didn't say anything. I'm sure both of our minds whirred with fear and the unknown—scared of what tomorrow or next year might be like—while we tried to calm down.

When Katie's nose wasn't as pink, we left the limo.

La Bella Italia was filled with many familiar faces. The big banquet hall held practically everyone I knew. It was the same scene as Kylie's party weeks back. Only, this was a sit-down dinner.

We went to my parents' table first. Dad was busy stuffing his face huddled and whispering with Aro. Mom and Alex were engrossed in conversation, and Uncle Carlisle was playing with my aunt's hair, content to stare off into space.

"Hello!" I announced, leaving my arm draped around Katie.

"Hi, Dad."

"Look at you." Aro got up to hug her tight, but I didn't see Lisa.

"Where's Aunt Lee-Lee?" I asked. My aunt doesn't exactly like this crowd either, but she'll always make an appearance, especially if Lauren was going to be here. What Aro does doesn't affect their shit, although she hates his "job", too. They live and love and are pretty-fucking-happy as far as I can tell.

"She's late—had a work thing, but she should be here soon." He pulled me into his side. "How's things?" He kissed my hair.

"Eh." I didn't want to lie to the man.

"Sonny." Dad reached out to shake my hand.

I bent low to kiss his cheek and then Mom's. Standing straight, I looked down to my mother. She was trying to ignore us—or mainly, Katie.

"How you feelin', hon?" Dad smiled at Katie.

"Oh." She rubbed her stomach. "I'm hangin' in—you know." She looked to my mother. "Bella," Mom's head whipped to her, her gaze ice-cold.

"So lovely of you to join us," she said, and the gauntlet had been thrown down.

"Great dress," Katie said.

Mom smiled, not saying a word.

"O-kay . . . this is awkward," Katie whispered up to me.

"We're, uh—" I spoke up, although I had no idea what to say. "Katie had an idea." And I had everyone's attention at that table now. "We haven't had anyone at the apartment lately . . ."

"Oh, I thought Lauren was helping you get the nursery ready?" Mom asked.

I peeped Dad pinch my mother's hand.

"She helps when she can," Katie said.

"We haven't done much of anything with the room yet," I was fast to say. "We just had it painted. Otherwise, it's empty."

"Not for long." Katie leaned into me.

"I see." Mom smiled, backing off.

"What was Katie's idea?" Dad asked.

"Um...She wants to make a feast—a small party." I lied through my teeth while Katie's nails dug into my forearm.

"That's fantastic." Dad banged the table. "Isn't it, Bella?" he whispered something in her ear.

"Sounds wonderful," Mom replied. "I look forward to seeing what you've done with the guest room."

"Oh, it's nothing special." Katie waved a hand. "Like he said, we only had it painted."

"Your brother and Amelia are over there." Aro pointed. "They saved youse seats."

"Thank you." And he had no idea just how thankful I truly was. "See you guys!" I placed my arm around Katie's shoulders, taking her away.

"What the fuck? I can't cook—you know that."

"But I can," I sighed. "Just—relax. I had to say something, and we eventually have to tell them what's going on with us."

"I didn't think of that." The tears threatened to spill again.

"We're fine." I didn't know if we were, but I didn't want her upset.

"Jesus." She stopped us, and I continued to stare down at her.

"What?"

"Look at them." She turned to meet my gaze. "I don't know whether to want a cigarette or pull you into the bathroom."

I smiled, still unaware of what she was talking about. "We can definitely do the latter."

She giggled. "I love you." Then her face crumbled.

I held her cheeks. "Forget about everything . . . just be Katie, and I'll be Sonny, and we'll have a good time." I was aching to let everything go—just be. "You know I love you, too."

She pulled on my tie, and my lips met hers. This kiss was different. It wasn't filled with passion, more like regret—sadness.

"Come on." When we started walking again, I finally saw what she had. My eyes landed on Damion and Amelia. My brother looked like he was trying to eat her face, while Anthony and Kylie were just fucking staring at them. "Geez," I laughed.

"Right?" Katie snorted.

Without anymore fanfare, we took our seats at the large round table. "What's up?"

"Thank God you're here." Kylie touched my arm. "Maybe they'll stop."

"I'm enjoying the show." Ant stood up to slap his hand to mine.

"Dame?" I raised a brow.

He placed a soft kiss on Amelia's lips, and then turned to face me. "'Sup?"

I shook my head, shrugging my shoulders. "You tell me." It'd been a while since I'd seen him. He listened to Dad, never stops by Eclipse anymore, and I haven't been going to our parents' either.

"We're good," he spoke for the both of them. "School's good."

"Right," I said, looking back to Kylie. She was guzzling what looked like an alcoholic beverage. "What are you drinking?"

"A Sex on the Beach."

"Even her drinks are sexy." Anthony winked at her, lifting his glass. "To sexual beings everywhere."

Kylie gave Ant her attention. "So, you've never done it before—like received it?"

"Received what?" I asked.

"Don't," Dame said. "Just don't."

I didn't, my gaze falling on Amelia. She looked gorgeous in a low-cut black dress, and if I leaned just a bit I could see just _how_ tight and short it was. "How are you?"

"I'm great, _Santino_." She added extra emphasis on my name. "How are you guys doing?" She faced Katie. "I'm Amelia—Um, we didn't really meet the last time I saw you." She put her hand out. "You're Katie?"

"Yes." Katie smiled, shaking her hand. "You're _Damion's_ girlfriend." Now_ she_ put extra emphasis on _his_ name while she squeezed my knee, and I had no idea what that meant.

Amelia nodded, looking to Dame. "I am." Then she sighed, coming back to Katie. "Congratulations by the way. Did you guys set a date yet?"

I felt Katie's eyes on me. "The baby's due the middle of December," I said.

"No, I mean—the wedding?" she asked.

"We—we're just focusing on the baby stuff right now." I squeezed Katie's hand.

Damion nudged me with his foot under the table.

I ignored it as we all fell silent, except for Anthony and Kylie. They were giggling, but when I heard "anal sex", my head whipped to them. "What the hell are you guys talking about?"

"Kylie, um, your sister has, uh, certain curiosities," Amelia told me.

"What?" I asked.

Katie started laughing, giggling away with them. "I'm surprised you've never done it."

"Just because I'm . . . you automatically assume?" Anthony smiled. "I'm a pitcher, not a catcher, but that doesn't mean it's off-limits either. The opportunity just hasn't presented itself yet. Eric likes to catch . . . We haven't been together long. I'm young and I don't sleep around—"

"You're such a fucking liar," Damion laughed. "Dude's a ho." He jerked his head.

Anthony gave him the finger. "A blow ho." He blew Damion a kiss.

My brother caught it.

"I think it's so cool," Kylie said. "I wanna meet your boyfriend."

My cousin's lips drew a tight line. "One day."

"What's cool?" Amelia asked Kylie.

"The gay thing—not the other thing," my sister giggled.

"The other thing—it's not that great," Katie said.

"You've done that?" I inquired, looking to Katie. She sure as fuck didn't do that shit with me.

"From what I hear! No, I've never." She pushed my hand off her shoulder. "Oww."

I combed my hand through my hair, actually wanting to leave. My gaze fell on my other cousins—Hanna and Carli. Neither one had a date and looked to be going shot for shot, sitting adjacent to Carlisle and Alex's side of the table. That looked like a table I should be sitting at. This one…they were all too happy for me.

"I've never done it either," Amelia admitted, laughing around the rim of her glass.

"But guys like doing it?" Kylie slurred.

"Kylie…" Dame stared at her. "Come on. Think. Guys have cocks…I'll venture to say that_ any_ warm, wet, tight…orifice—"

"Orifice?" Kylie asked. "Or-a-fice? What's that?" She moved her arm with a flourish, spilling her drink.

"It's a hole, you moron." Anthony chuckled.

"Warm, tight orifice." My sister thought that was hysterical, holding up her cell phone. "I'm gonna ask Gio if he likes my—"

"No drunk sexting!" Amelia stole her phone away.

"How many have you had?" I reached for Kylie's glass.

She pulled it away. "I'm wit' Dad and Mom, my family, and—and Anthony is my date. I can drink as much as I want." Kylie's always so used to over explaining, finding excuses and squashing arguments before they start—she pleads her case before any of us can bitch. She'd make a good lawyer, too.

"Yeah, chill out," Ant said. "There's food." He gestured to the array of appetizers. "Go get a drink. You're tense."

"Let's go." Dame sat up. "Let's go to the bar." He was talking to me but stared at his girl. "You want something?"

"Another Appletini sounds good. I really like them. Thank you."

He kissed her forehead, leaving his chair.

"You want anything?" I asked Katie.

She shook her head, grasping the water pitcher to pour some.

I took it, doing it for her. "A soda—something?"

"Sprite would be nice. Thank you." She gave my hand another squeeze; meanwhile, she looked to be doing well suddenly, and I was . . . "I should find AJ anyway. I bet he's busy, but…" She trailed off.

I sighed, which was more of a groan, as I followed my brother to the bar. Once there, I wanted a bottle of something, I wanted to confess—tell him everything that had been going on. It'd been a while since we chilled together. No matter how annoying he is, or how much we fuck with each other, he's still my best friend.

"A shot of Jack." He tapped the bar, hopping onto a stool.

"Two," I said.

"That's for you. I'm not drinking."

"You're not?" I was surprised.

"I'm nursing beers . . . that's not really drinking." He was quiet.

Despite that shit, once those two shots were on the bar, I tossed them back in succession. "Fuck."

"Another Jack and a Coke back," he told the bartender. "You good now?"

Unsure if I'd ever be "good", I asked, "Things going well with this chick?" as I jerked my head.

"We're exclusive, and that's cool for now. What's up with you and Katie?"

"I—" I wanted to try and explain, but Lauren joined us.

She stood next to Dame, smiling back and forth between us. "Hello."

My brother didn't say a word.

"It's been so long." She touched his cheek.

He flinched away. "Don't touch me."

Lauren was taken aback, and so was I. That was rude. "O-kay . . . I haven't seen you in a while. I just—you're all grown up." She stared up at him.

He smirked down to her. "And you're all—" He bit his lip.

She leaned into him, and I couldn't make heads or tails of their interaction. Although it was highly entertaining. "What?" she asked, as I drank my third shot.

"Old?" Damion asked, and I nearly choked on the liquid. "Jenny Craig isn't working as well as it used to, huh?" He had a straight face—wasn't even fucking around.

"Damion!" I coughed, unable to clear my throat. She was—after all—well, she was _going_ to be my mother-in-law. No matter of family gossip or who doesn't like her, she's still Katie's mother and should be respected as such.

"Is this her?" Amelia came out of nowhere, and it was like watching a train wreck.

"It is." Damion's reply was short.

Lauren still looked dumbfounded. "Excuse me." She placed her hand on her stomach. "What kind of way is that to greet me?"

"She looks like a pedophile," Amelia whispered.

"What the fuck?" I stared at the empty shot glass, wondering what was in it—what I drank, as I had no idea what was going on.

"Who are you?" Lauren asked Amelia.

"His girl. His dick has my name on it now . . . maybe you need to step off."

"Whoa!" I got between them. Lauren was behind me, while Damion held Amelia in front of me. "What the fuck?"

Damion and Amelia shared a look and then burst into laughter. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He kissed her hand.

She pulled him down, kissing the fuck out of him before she left.

When I turned, Lauren was nowhere to be found.

"What was all that?" It was a scene to me, but it looked like no one else saw anything—no attention was drawn to us.

"Lauren hits on me whenever she sees me. Amelia's . . . territorial, I guess."

"That makes her a pedophile?" I asked, leaning into him. "Did'ju fuck Lauren?" My tone was hushed. "You rag on me about older women, but what are you? The old-lady whisperer? My limit's like thirty-five, bro."

"Old-lady whisperer." He was still laughing his ass off. "Coo-coo-ca-choo."

"Seriously." It wasn't really funny. It was kind of gross, to me anyway, but who knows what gets this lunatic off anymore?

"Heaven holds a place for those who _prey_ . . . hey, hey, hey," he sang.

"You sure you're not drunk?" I asked, "singing the oldies and shit?"

"No…_Amelia's_ drunk—pay her no attention." He waved a hand, previous amusement gone.

I shook my head, snapping my fingers for the bartender. "Just keep them coming."

"Shit is _that_ bad?" Dame asked, wearing a smile and sitting next to me again.

"Shit is_ that_ good?" I tilted my head back to the table. His smile was just too big for him.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Things are fucking amazing. I've never—never been this happy before in my life. I love her—I can't even bring myself to lie to her. I'm thinking Christmas. Three months? That's a semi-respectable amount of time."

"For what?" I sipped my Coke.

"To propose?" He was still fucking smiling. "We haven't gotten to I love yous yet, but they're coming. I have to bite my tongue every day."

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack—fuck it. I'll have one of these." He pointed to my shot, and the bartender was fast to serve him.

"Damion, you hardly know her."

"I know enough," he said, and there it was—that phrase again, knowing enough.

"Does she know about the deal you have with Dad?"

"Shhh." He looked around. "I'd still feel the same. I'm not doing this for the money."

"Ha!" I snorted. "It's one helluva'an incentive, though. You also knew about the dough before—"

"I'm not. Dad can keep his cash."

"Yeah." I rolled my eyes. "I'm just saying...You didn't go into this with a clear head."

"She's—she's amazing." He wore a silly grin. "She totally gets me, too, and she's patient—sort of," he laughed. "I keep wondering how I got so lucky. I mean, she knows about us, our family. She's down with whatever."

"Okay." I decided to take his word for it. "If you decided you wanted to be involved—"

"I don't, but if I did, she said that was _my_ business—a choice_ I_ had to make. She's wonderful, and the sex—Sonny, I've never been fucked this way my entire life."

"I hate you," I said.

"Why?" He stared at me. "You have everything you ever wanted now. Things are changing for the better. We're growing up and moving on…You're with Katie. You're having a baby—"

"Who are you?" I grimaced.

"Me." He squeezed my shoulder.

"Well, _you're_ different." I furrowed my brow, wanting my cynic of a brother tonight—someone to be miserable with. Then I felt bad, shitting on his jovial mood. "Seriously, though . . . Good for you." I patted his back. "You're in love...God bless."

"Thank you, but I'm the same, just happy."

I nodded. "I'm not."

"That's apparent now . . . What's going on?" He leaned into me. "You can tell me."

"Things aren't working out." I drank my fifth shot. "Unlike the _amazing_ Amelia," I was sarcastic, "Katie can't accept certain things."

"You said she couldn't. You_ knew_ she wouldn't."

"I was tired of being away from her. I was selfish, and I pushed, and here I am—thirsty and hungry for love, her love, so much that I deluded myself into thinking I couldn't live without her." I rambled, my brain finally feeling a bit foggy. "It felt great to get that out." I actually smiled.

"Whoa...I get it, though. You guys were in love with the idea of being in love—with each other."

I widened my arms. "I'm fucked—utterly and completely fucked . . . But I'm having a kid." I lifted my sixth to toast that shit.

"Maybe you should slow down." He reached for it.

Knowing better, I let _him_ drink it. "There's not going to be a wedding. We're gonna work things out as they come, I guess—raise the kid together but separate."

"I thought you guys would at least last a year."

"Awww...thanks." My tone was sarcastic.

"All_ that_ was for nothing?" he asked.

I nodded. "Nothing." Suddenly angry, I stiffened—holding my breath and hoping it'd ebb.

He huffed. "You wanna get outta here? Go blow off some steam somewhere?"

"Nah." I drank my soda.

"You're tipsy—not thinking straight. You're—no doubt you're upset with Katie. You shouldn't go home—be alone with her."

"I'm not. I'm upset with the situation. I can't hold anything against her." It was the absolute fucking truth.

"She'll get a ride with Aro." He placed his hand on my forearm. "I heard you got a limo?"

"Yeah."

"Bro, let's do it up. Fuck. We can take baby girl with us, show her a good time."

I smirked at my brother. "Take Kylie out?"

He shrugged. "She'll be with us and Ant. We'll take her to Eclipse—what's going to happen? She's plastered, won't even remember anything tomorrow."

"What about your little boo-boo?"

"She'll come, too. This shit is boring. We'll eat, and then you'll have an emergency at Eclipse."

I raised a brow—that shit not sounding too bad. "I can't. What if—"

"You're not going to fuck things up more by having to work." He hit my arm. "She knows you actually run it—operate Eclipse."

"True." I stopped talking when someone nudged my other arm. Turning away from Dame, I saw Brenda—one of the waitresses. We've fucked in the past, way back in the day, and as recently as last month. She's a knockout, a redhead, two years younger than me, still working on a degree in finance, and she's into some kinky shit.

"Knew you'd be here." She placed the small drink tray on the bar.

"How are you?" I asked.

She nodded. "Better seeing you."

I hummed, low and under my breath. "Bet tips are good tonight."

"They are," she said. "I'm about to take my break." She looked around us. "I'll be in the back room—in five minutes." She propositioned me. I knew what that was—an invitation to fuck. Brenda walked away, swaying her hips, turning to wink back at me.

"What was that about?" Dame asked.

"Nothing. Let's just go eat. We'll chill another time." I snapped my fingers. "Can I have a Sprite?"

Damion sighed, asking for Amelia's drink as well. "She really wanted to see Eclipse."

"Who?"

"Amelia—fucking Kylie, too."

"No way," I said. "Dad would chop my balls off and feed them to me."

"How would he know?"

"He'd know." I grabbed my shit and left the bar. "You're not supposed to chill there either."

"True." He put his arm around me. "But like I said, how's he gonna know? They'll be drunk in about an hour, and then they'll rush home to fuck—just like the rest of us. Dad talks a lot of shit. But he'd love it if Kylie didn't come home—stayed here in Manhattan with her brother," he laughed, leaving me to take his seat. "She can sleep on my floor."

"Who?" Amelia asked.

"Ky."

"We're going out?" She blew our cover before we could even plan anymore.

"No, not now," I smiled at her.

"Not you," Dame said. "That doesn't apply to the rest of us."

"What's going on?" Katie asked.

"Nothing." I stuffed a mozzarella stick into my mouth. "Eat," I told her.

"I ordered you the beef," she said. "It's steak—nothing exotic. You'll like it."

"Cool." I wanted to go back to the bar, or… "I'll be back."

"Um—"

I left the table again, needing to get my mind right. Going toward the back, I stopped myself from going into the break room—deciding on the bathroom instead. Technically, Katie and I weren't together anymore, but that didn't mean dick. My heart was still with her, and I couldn't—not when there's a tiny shred of hope of us working shit out.

Caius was at the urinal, and I went to the sink to splash my face.

"Rough night?" He walked over and washed his hands.

I leaned mine on the sink. "Understatement."

"That thing?" I knew what he was talking about, Joe and his family. "I had someone take care of it—while I knew we'd all be here."

I didn't make a comment.

"It was the best thing. We all have alibies. Right?" he smiled, patting my back. "And I'll take care of that fuck tomorrow. It's gonna be a robbery gone bad—staged and shit." It sucked because . . . in this moment, I could get into something like that.

"Good to know."

"You're not upset with me, are you?" He cocked a brow. "I mean, that shit should have been taken care of weeks ago. We were planning, but then I didn't hear from you."

I shook my head, even more upset with myself. Other shit has just been more important; meanwhile, no one asked questions. Joe Sr. approached Dad last week, in which Dad told him some shit about them going on the lam. Supposedly, shit got messy out in Cali. His sons had been gone for two weeks already . . . Maybe that's why Caius got it over with.

"Good. I'd hate it if we had problems." He waved a finger. "Daddy's shining star."

I stood to my full height to face him. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He smoothed down his jacket. "You're your father's little moneymaker, but we know certain shit—you're not into it."

I grasped onto his collar and pushed him into the wall. "You don't worry about what I'm into—"

He pushed me away from him. "You think you're so tough . . ."

"Try me," I said.

He laughed, and then winked at me before he left the bathroom. `

Eventually, after about ten calming breaths, I went back to the table. The food had arrived, and I didn't have the stomach for it.

"Are you okay?" Katie whispered, and I couldn't believe she was okay. Maybe being around everyone worked for her, like I thought it would work for me.

"No . . ." I chewed, thinking—racking my brain. "Kevin called out sick. Momo's tending bar." She likely had no idea who Momo was—any of them.

Damion caught my gaze.

"Oh." Katie continued to eat.

"I might have to go to Eclipse."

She nodded. "Right." Now she looked upset, but I doubt that it was about us, per se.

"If you'd rather I didn't—" I actually hoped she'd ask me to come home, say we had to talk some more.

"You have to work, you have to work." She shrugged.

"Okay." I pushed my plate away. "You'll get a ride home with your father?"

She swallowed her food. "Yeah."

I turned in my chair to face her, not caring about the others at the table. "Tell me not to go." That meant more than just going to Eclipse—to me anyway.

"Why?" She looked confused. "If they need you at the club…you have to go."

"No—"

She took a wary glance around us.

"We'll talk more tomorrow?" I acquiesced.

Katie nodded. "Yeah."

I kissed her cheek, searching her eyes, silently begging her to . . . tell me she couldn't live without me again, tell me she loved me. "I'll see you later."

"You want me to wait up?"

"No," I whispered, leaving my seat. "You rest, baby."

"Hey." She grabbed my hand; I thought this was it—a small grin appearing on my face. But it was for appearances' sake that she nipped my lips. "Be careful."

"Call me when you get home."

"I will," she promised.

After saying a quick goodnight to my parents, telling Dad the same lie, I jumped into the limo—told the driver where to go, and that he was to go back to the restaurant and wait. I sent Katie a text. In case she didn't want a ride from her father, she could take the limo.

She never responded, her cell likely on silent in her purse.

Nevertheless, I greeted my employees as I made my way back to the office. I didn't stop at the bar, just wanting and needing to be alone. Quite a few of the guys were here, but those guys—they're low men, associates, not members of the inner circle. They obviously weren't invited to La Bella Italia.

My crew was here. I've been having Mike chill at the club when I'm not here. I still have yet to find a manager. Lately, I've been splitting my time between Eclipse and the brokerage, and I make sure to be home early—for Katie. My schedule has been full, but it's not as tight as it used to be. And it'll be lighter next week, when Anthony starts to manage the brokerage. With a baby on the way, Dad said it's best I slow down for a while, which I obviously have. I need to study for the bar. It's about time I take that shit anyway, even if I was only doing it for Katie at first.

After sitting at my desk, I decided to make next week's schedule, and then I did payroll. That shit doesn't consist of much, and I only wasted an hour's time. I thought about doing inventory. Lori used to do it, and I hate doing it. It needs to be done. I was supposed to do it a while back. She had this system on the laptop, the one she had access to, and deleted it all—erased the entire hard drive—as a last fuck you to me. I've been ordering the liquor blindly ever since. Then when we run out of something, I send a minion to the liquor store.

Katie texted me back. She didn't get my message until her father dropped her off at the apartment. She thanked me for the gesture, though.

Still down in the dumps, I opened the pull-out couch—wanting to take a nap, get an escape from my mind, an excuse not to do inventory again. Maybe I should have just gone home, but then Katie's there, and I needed the time alone.

Just as I fanned the sheet, there was a knock on the door.

Grasping my nine, I went for it, opening the door for Layla. "Everything okay?"

"Um." She was dressed, not fully covered—wearing lingerie—but she wasn't naked. "I made you these." She went to hand me a tin.

"Oh." I took it from her. "What are they?"

"Cookies—chocolate chip."

"Thank you."

"I can get you some milk..." She offered.

"No," I said. "These are great. I'll save them for later. How's Jason doing?" I asked about her son.

"Excited for Halloween," she giggled, walking farther into the office. "He doesn't exactly know what it is yet, but…I got him a pumpkin costume."

I smiled. "That's cool."

"Are you okay?"

I nodded. "I am . . . besides, shouldn't I be asking you?" It's been a while since she had that altercation with Nicki. But she's not the same, and I wondered if she'd ever be the same. I don't have the heart to fire her, however, I hear she's looking for another job. She's not into stripping these days, takes waitressing shifts. She went back to dancing after she'd been attacked, but she wasn't making enough money—scared of the customers. It baffled me. She had all that money. Surely she could live off that for a while.

Although when she first came to me, she wanted to serve. It was my idea to have her dance, since I thought she had a decent body. She also looks very young, and these sick fucks like that shit. Layla—or should I say, Fantasia—was a hit from the first night she started. She's Aro's favorite. He's actually her bread and butter. I hear their interaction is completely benign in nature, though. He's not slippin' it to her, but who knows?

"I've been better . . . but life goes on, I guess." She looked to the floor. "You don't—you don't see me differently, do you? Like…dirty?" she whispered.

I shook my head, confused. Except for feeling really badly about what happened to her, I don't think, nor do I have an opinion about her at all. "Of course not."

"I have a lot of respect for you. Your view of me—it matters. I just wanted to make sure."

I nodded. "I respect you just the same."

She hugged herself. "I also—I came to give you this." Layla handed me a piece of paper. "It's my two week's notice."

"Oh."

"I heard you had to put it in writing." She pointed to it. "I got a job at the T.G.I. Friday's in Times Square."

"Wow. I bet you'll do great." I doubt she'd need money for a while. I gave her just over two hundred grand—to keep her quiet. Aro told me to give her half of that, but there was no amount of money to make up for that shit.

"The money you gave me…?" She grinned. "I, um, I put most of it away—I don't wanna see it. I don't wanna touch it. I met with your uncle . . . he put me in touch with this guy. I set Jason up with a trust. Neither one of us can touch it until he's eighteen."

"Really?" Most people would have gone on a shopping spree, got a car, a better place to live.

"Yeah. I'm thinking of going back to school, too."

"I'm happy for you." I leaned back, sitting on my desk. "Not—you know. It sucks, what happened? But I'm glad you're turning things around."

"Thank you." Her voice was suddenly filled with emotion. "You've been nothing but kind to me." She widened her arms. "Can—can I hug you?"

"Uh, okay."

She lightly wrapped her arms around me, and it was very friendly. "You looked like you needed one—a hug, too."

"I did, huh?" I laughed as she leaned away. Most of my dancers just think I need my weasel greased.

She giggled. "You're a great guy." Layla put her hand up, backing away toward the door. "Take care."

"What are you going to school for?" I asked, her presence occupying my mind.

"Business management. Maybe I'll run a club one day."

"Huh." I quirked a brow, staring at her. "What about this one?"

"What…about it?"

"Lori's gone," I said.

"Right. I'm sorry it didn't work out, but I heard—you're getting married, right?" She pointed to me.

"Just rumors," I whispered. "My ex . . . we _are_ having a baby."

She gasped. "Congrats! That's so exciting! Cherish them when they're teeny." She squealed, which was kind of adorable.

"Thank you . . . but back to that other shit." I twirled a finger. "You'd get salary. Full medical benefits." I didn't know Layla from a hole in the wall, but I felt I could trust her a lot more than any other employee I had. "You'd run the bar . . . the girls would answer to you."

"Me?" She pointed to herself. "I wanna go to school for that stuff, but I have no idea—"

"You'd be making….ballpark? Two grand bi-weekly, but the customers have been known to tip as well. Like any other position, you treat them well, and they'll do the same—one hand washes the other. You'd be responsible for catering to their needs, knowing what the high rollers—those who drop a few bills in here a night—like."

"Oh my God . . . Are you serious?"

I nodded. "I'd train you. I know you don't know shit right now. I mean—about running a club. I need someone here for when my father or me aren't. Even when we're here, though . . ."

"This—this is an amazing opportunity, but . . . I don't know if I can do it." Her face fell. "I—I'm only twenty-one."

"So?" I asked.

"I mean, the older girls might not respect me. They don't now."

"They will," I said.

"Are you doing this because you still feel bad?"

"No." And I'd never tell her the true reasons why. She didn't need to know I had a hunch I could trust her. It'd be best to keep her on her toes. "I need an evening manager. During the day, you know whoever is bartending runs the show. No one's here during the day," I laughed.

"Maybe we can change that?" she asked. "Mr. Cullen, I—I don't know what to say."

"Brainstorm, think of ways to draw a crowd during the day."

"I'll do my best," she said.

I nodded. "Be here tomorrow at five. Wear something classy, a pantsuit, something just a little revealing. You know?"

"Of course." She held her stomach. "You think I can do this?"

"I do . . . I'll teach you everything I know, and…even so, I'd just be a phone call away if you ever needed anything."

"Thank you!" She jumped up and down. "I'll—I'll do my best. I swear it."

I nodded.

"Thank you! Really!"

I laughed. "You're very welcome. You're doing _me_ a favor here."

"No way." She shook her head. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime." She had no idea what she was really agreeing to just yet. "Can I hug you again?"

I thought about it. She was leaving before, which was why I allowed it. "No."

"Sorry." She went for the door. "My God . . ." Layla was still in shock when she left. But she was only gone for two minutes before she was back. "Mr. Cullen?"

"Yeah?" I was still in the same spot.

"Momo told me to tell you that your brother's here. He said he already called your dad and gave him the heads up."

I sucked my teeth. "Where is he?"

"Private room number two."

"Private room?" I shook my head. "Okay. Thanks." I wondered what the fuck he'd be doing in a private room.

Instead of looking at the security cameras on the laptop, I just went there—didn't bother to knock and let myself in.

Damion was sitting in a chair, and his head didn't even turn my way when I entered. Of course, he was likely too engrossed with what was happening on the small stage. Amelia sat in a chair, while Misty danced on top of her.

"Whoa," I said without sound, slinking back and watching. Amelia was into it, running her hands up and down Misty's back, ass, legs . . .

But when she turned and caught my gaze, Amelia paused.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Please…by all means."

My brother turned to me and he had nothing to say. But I wanted to congratulate him—tell him he was the luckiest bastard in the world.

I took a seat next to him. "She's open?"

"Open?" Damion cleared his throat.

"A threesome?" I whispered. "You should—fucking go for it, dude. Use my office. Please. Just do it. Don't settle down before you've had two broads at once." Nearly pleading, I grasped his shoulder. "You've barely lived yet…"

Like Dad, I had some of those same fears for Damion. He just needs more life experience, so he can turn into an actual person—get out of whatever the fuck he's in, this limbo, confusion shit. He's my best friend. But the reason why I don't mind confessing whatever's plaguing me to him? Because whatever's going on in my head, it doesn't compare to the level of fucked up-ness that he's always got going on. For now. I have hope he'll grow . . . the fuck up.

His eyes widened. "This is just for fun. What the fuck? Threesome."

I put my hands up, wondering why he was upset suddenly.

"No one's touching Amelia. _She_ can touch Mia, but—no. And stop looking at her." He snapped his fingers in my face.

I turned to smile at my brother. "If you can't take the heat . . . why visit the kitchen?"

"Amelia, you wanna fuck her—Mia, Misty?" Damion asked his girl.

"Fuck no!" Amelia shouted. "No offense." She looked back to Dame. "I thought you'd like it."

"I don't—come'ere."

"Damn." I hit his arm. "Relax . . . She did that shit for you. If you pushed, you probably could have had her eating pussy, too. Good for you." I really had no idea what to say.

"That was hot for like…one second." He put his arm around Amelia. "I'm sorry for yelling." He kissed her hair.

I laughed.

Her face was beet red, and she wouldn't meet my stare.

"You guys leaving then?" I asked.

"Excuse me." Misty held her hand out.

"Oh…" Damion went into his pocket, slapping a bill into her palm. "You did good."

Misty stomped out of the room.

"What's her problem?" I watched her go.

"Lucky I didn't fucking smack her," Amelia said. "We walk in, and she just—and _he _just—" She groaned and hit my brother. "Look at what you have me doing!" she screamed. "I'm a good girl. I don't do this!"

"Whoa….baby, relax. I thought you were into it."

"No! But if I have a choice—" she stood up, still shouting, "between her giving you a dance, or her giving _me_ one . . ."

"Shhh." He pulled her back down to him. "I'm sorry."

Amelia was crying.

I scratched my head, having seen enough crying broads for one day. As a matter of fact, I had one at home—only she wasn't mine anymore.

"No!" Amelia left him again. "You're an idiot—a stupid, blind fool. Or, maybe you just have the emotional capacity of a fucking spoon! Can't you see?"

"See what?" Damion shook his head.

"I'm calling my ride—going home."

"No, wait—" he chased her out of the private room.

And I bet the only people who don't know that Damion and Amelia love each other . . . are Damion and Amelia.

"Morons," I muttered, going to the bar for a drink.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

**See you Wednesday . . . We'll hear from Damion again. **


	16. Case Study

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**I was going to wait until tomorrow . . . but I have the extra time today. LOL. Here's Wednesday's/tomorrow's update. Depending, I'll update again on Sunday. **

**WARNING: Most of this chapter will be offensive to some readers. I apologize ahead of time, but it's Damion, not me! XOXOXOXO**

**ENJOY!**

**Immediately follows chapter 15.**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Sixteen: Case Study**

**DAMION**

"Amelia!" I called after her. She was walking very fast ahead of me on the busy Manhattan avenue, holding her cell phone.

But she hadn't called for her ride.

I observed that shit. And unless she's the stealthiest texter in the world, she hadn't sent a message either.

It was a game . . .

She was the mouse, I was the cat, and I was down to play. "AMELIA!" I shouted.

"Fuck you!" She turned to give me the finger.

"You promise?" I kept following after her, strolling at a normal pace.

"You—" She waved her fist, groaning. "You're an asshole!"

Some guy whistled. "You tell 'em, honey."

I chuckled, getting a kick out of this shit. "AMELIA!"

"Fuck off!" She showed me her phone, this fire in her eyes. "I've had enough of your shit—you lousy bastard. I'm calling for a fucking ride."

"Oh!" I boomed. "You kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Is that what you are?" She walked backward, and I hoped she didn't stumble. Amelia was wearing the highest heels I'd ever seen her wear—ever seen _any_ female wear. Her legs were long as days tonight, and I couldn't wait to have them wrapped around me. "I thought you were a demon sent from hell to torture me."

"That's bullshit." I was finally caught up to her, but she was fast to step away. "I only have good intentions—"

"More like c_ruel_ intentions . . . is this all a game, Damion? Do you just…I don't know. You get random thoughts and think, 'Hey, I wonder what I can make Amelia do today?' Because it's not funny." She was trying not to cry, her chin wrinkling. "No…fuck you!" Amelia turned, walking away.

"Amelia—"

"What?!" She whipped around, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Get over here." I'd had enough of her shit and pulled her into my arms. "It was a stupid idea." My hands roamed down her back—loving the dress she was wearing. It hugged every fucking curve, and she wore it just for me.

"No…" She tried to push me away. "All you care about is sex—that's all I'm here for."

"That's not true—"

"Yeah, it is…You fuck up. I get mad. You smile, which makes me smile, and then we're naked. We never talk about our problems . . . You drive me crazy!" And she did look a bit insane, stomping away from me again. "I can't—I can't keep doing this with you . . . What the fuck am I to you?"

"You're my girl—"

"No." She held her face, and something dawned on me. We were having this fight in a very public venue. Amelia had me shouting in a fucking street for her. If that doesn't tell her something . . . "You fucked that stripper."

"What?" I laughed, because that totally came out of left field.

"As soon as you walked in the door, she was all over you." It was true. In fact, Misty thought Amelia was a new hire or something. That's how hot my girl looked tonight. "You did . . . and then at the party, I had to see that hag. Everywhere we go…are we going to run into women you've been with?" That shit was even funnier.

"No," I whispered. "I never slept with Misty—"

"You're lying."

"Amelia…" I sighed.

"Okay. I believe you." She wanted to smile, but she wasn't going to. "I just—I feel—I—I don't know. Like, we're not moving forward? We just, and I'm not complaining, but all we do is have sex—"

"That's not_ all_ we do." In between, I've been baring my fucking soul to her—wanting her to get to know me.

She never asked me for a list of all the women I've slept with, but the ones I've spoken about—Lauren, Julie, and then that woman I met in a diner two years ago, I can't recall her name—are the only ones I've been intimate with.

I even told her about that shit with Alex . . .

Amelia didn't have an immediate reaction, but now she watches Alex . . . like she's competition when there's no need for that.

I've never spoken about the other things I've done—not yet, not until she's my wife.

But why am I divulging all of this?

Last week, I started my psych rotation, and I have to make a case study—report about a mock or real patient I'd had an encounter with. It's supposed to be ongoing and in-depth. I'm just starting.

The narcissist that I am didn't find any of those fuckers interesting.

Although, I can wait 'til I find someone, I chose to study myself—hitting the books, doing research, doing that soul-searching Dad suggested.

What I've learned about myself so far . . . it's a hoot, truly hilarious.

After thinking . . . searching my brain, trying to dig up repressed childhood memories . . . a random thought came to mind.

The first time anyone had ever judged me, I was twelve years old. Poking fun, teasing, was one thing, but this was different, and I had no idea what I'd done to warrant such a reaction—or maybe it was a general observation.

My father looked to my mother, pointing at me, while he said, "That's one cold kid". My mother bristled, defended me, but Dad gave me an odd look before just walking away. The both of them were always in such denial . . . All their kids were perfect, nothing wrong, everything heals itself with time. They were great parents, but when confronted with issues? They'd acknowledge them and push past them—tell us to be brave and do the same without actually working through anything.

Either way, it all boiled down to when I was sent away at the age of eight—when my family went into hiding.

A few years ago, I found out it was actually because New York was at war with Jersey . . . ironic as fuck. Reminds me of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_, "_My only love sprung from my only hate_."

We went into hiding. Then things kind of went downhill after that—one after another, things were happening, all at a pivotal developmental age . . . when I was finally becoming aware of things—comprehending circumstances.

My aunt blew her head off, Nanny died, new people were inserted into my life, we went back into hiding after Sonny was shot, which was traumatic in and of itself. I can still recall that day—the smell of his blood mixed with my father's aftershave . . . being dragged across gravel while shots were fired. Being scared shitless because . . . my one and only constant . . . Forget about my mother or my father. If they sent us away, Sonny was there—he was always there, like a surrogate father. And that time, I was shipped off without Mom, Dad, or even Sonny to dull the ache.

Those events . . . none of them were ever explained. My parents never sat me down to talk it all out. All of which made me self-soothe, be my own rock—when I was away from them, and then coming back from wherever we'd gone.

Shouting—Mom and Dad fighting—used to scare me. One day, it didn't anymore. The monsters under the bed, the ones in my closet, the boogeyman who was going to steal me from the window . . . They disappeared. Fuck them. They weren't scary anymore. Real shit—real life was something to be afraid of, associating with people could be hazardous.

One minute my dad's about to buy a car, and the next . . .

Apparently, I just kept getting more and more detached from people, my family especially—colder, if you will.

Then when things started to slow down . . . I was starting high school. My father took an active role in my life—Mom was happier . . . things were just chilled out for a while, and then that shit happened with Lauren.

I never saw that shit as anything, although I do look back on it with disgust. She molested me, practically raped me, yet she gave me the kind of attention I actually craved—and I'd inadvertently been seeking the approval from older women ever since.

I'm still working on it, but from a clinical standpoint . . .

With no conscience, essentially no regard for others, I can be superficially charming and manipulative. During certain acts or in times where I should…feel something, I don't. I have no empathy, and when it's over, I have no remorse.

I'm very passive—try to swallow my anger—but when pushed . . . I snap. Although I hardly ever get angry, I have deep-rooted aggression issues, which present—manifest—in a predatory drive. I get off on control and the domination, anywhere from fucking to a fresh kill, or just walking down the fucking block.

And I find myself suppressing most of these issues . . . urges . . . desires—I'm trying to be mainstream, acting, taking the forms of others I see.

I don't want to give myself this much credit, but all signs point to Sadistic Sociopath.

It was a startling discovery, one that sent me running for anti-psychotics.

_Kidding. _

I think it's bullshit.

But with all arrows pointing, why can't I see myself this way?

Some shit just doesn't add up, which leads me to need more information—do more research.

I hate psychiatrists, though. Most of the week, I had a brow raised, passing them tissues . . . blamed their mothers for their issues—psychobabble garbage.

But that's just it . . . you can't get to where you're going unless you know where you came from. . . and everything goes back to the parents. No matter how loving, smothering, or horrible—we're all fucked up in one way or another.

"_You're not liked. How does that make you feel?"_

Boo-fucking-hoo.

Half of those sorry slobs I saw last week . . . I wanted to euthanize them, give them the out they so clearly needed—pathetic pieces of shit.

Aerophobics—put their asses on a plane.

Homophobics—put them in a room full of gays.

_It's not a real phobia anyway. That's just ignorance._

Agoraphobics—push them out a window, make them go outside.

Claustrophobics—lock them in a closet for an hour.

All the pills . . . all the talking . . .

Let's take those options away and let natural selection do its job.

Hand them a revolver and one bullet . . . most of them would never pull the trigger. And the whiners? I wanted to send them to a Third World country, so they could have something real to bitch about. Schizophrenics? Dude, put them on a fucking stage—get a good laugh—find out the innermost government secrets—and then strangle them.

Amelia makes it all disappear. I don't think about that stuff when we're together.

Was she my salvation? I needed her, like air to breathe. I opened myself up, as much as it killed me, and she doesn't know everything. I bet if she did, she'd run away. Yet, I needed to know her—she needed to see me.

"Please." She scoffed. "Call me when—"

"Don't do that." I placed my finger over her lips. "Stop running your mouth, stop storming away from me—"

"Fuck you. I'm so sick of walking on eggshells with you." She went to turn.

I grabbed her arm. "Don't."

"Don't, what?" She pulled away again. "You told me a couple of secrets . . . I've told you everything about myself." Amelia was crying again. "You want me, and then you blatantly disregard me. What do you want, Damion? Tell me. Please, enlighten me!" She was shouting again.

"Nothing," I said, content with everything about us. I didn't need anything more, just her—my girl, my partner-in-crime, because that's what she was—with her own demons and devilish mind. She'd gone through some shit, too.

Growing up within the families we did, our childhoods were bound to leave scars.

"Nothing." She nodded, sucking her upper-lip into her mouth, slowly backing away. "Right." Amelia blew out a shaky breath, her whole face falling, and I'd never seen that expression on her before. "Thanks," she whispered, going toward the curb. "Taxi!" She lifted her arm, her voice strangled but loud.

"Hey…we're talking."

Amelia refused to look at me. "I'm done—I can't." A cab pulled up, and she opened the door. "You need a ready-made whore, one who doesn't speak . . . someone to spread her legs and stroke your ego, obey your commands." She spat at me, entering the vehicle.

"What?" I couldn't wrap my head around it. "You offered to let her dance for you—"

"You're fucking clueless. Don't call me. Don't contact me—" She went to close the door, but I stood in her way.

"Get out of the fucking car." I pointed.

"No—"

Gnashing my teeth together, I pulled her out, closed the door. "Go!" I hollered to the driver, while Amelia fought against me. Once the car took off, I released her. "Relax—" My head whipped to the side when she slapped me.

My hand immediately came up to grab her jaw. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Relax!"

She spit in my face. "Let me go!"

"What is the matter with you?" I kept my voice down, ignoring her saliva on my cheek.

"Just let me go," she cried, exasperated.

"I can't." And I really couldn't.

"Why?" Her voice was pained. "I'm nothing special—"

"Don't say that." I placed my arm over her shoulder, ushering her to the corner closest to Eclipse. "I've never slept with any of those pigs in there."

"That's not the point. I know it's only been—been a little while—" She sniffled. "I don't know what I mean. I know I—said it the first night we met. But you, you _are_ intense…and I'm driving myself crazy trying to keep up with you, trying to please you, afraid of doing the wrong things."

"You—"

"You've said it before . . . face the world, face your fears guns blazing. So, here I am." She widened her arms. "I'm ready to leave you—end whatever the fuck this is. Meanwhile, I bet it hurts worse…being away from you, more so than being with you." She ranted.

"You hurt, being with me?" I asked. "It's _painful_ to be with me?"

She looked away, not meeting my gaze.

"Amelia." I turned her chin to me.

And she shut down. Before my very eyes, tears quietly fell down her cheeks. She looked grim, sad—her face pale.

"Baby?" I kissed her lips, and she pulled away. "Don't do that." By this point, my stomach was a knotted mess—and I hated myself, wanting to force a reaction out of her, get her to tell me what was truly bothering her. This outburst…it came from nowhere, and it obviously went deeper than having fucking Misty dance on top of her.

"I wanna go home," she whispered.

I shook my head.

Her face crumbled. "Please."

"No," I said, taking her hand in mine.

"No, I wanna go home now. Y-you're scaring me."

"Me?" I pointed to myself, the picture of calm.

She took in a shaky breath. "Your eyes are—"

I didn't know what was wrong with my eyes, but I rolled them. "That's bullshit, but regardless...we have to talk. Then…barring any complications, I'll call a taxi for you myself." That was some more bullshit . . . she's spending the night with me.

Amelia didn't say a word as I escorted us back to Eclipse. Momo let us in, no questions asked. The party at La Bella Italia must have broken apart because Aro was at the bar, and I vaguely wondered what he'd be doing here. But then I saw Sonny pouring him a shot—the both of them looking like wounded soldiers or some shit.

Caius and Nunzio were across the room, associating with a couple girls…

It was packed now—with made guys and guys ready to spend their paychecks, the money they'd made.

"What's up?" Sonny shouted.

"I need your office!" I half-turned, hiding Amelia with my body. Her face was a wreck, makeup all over from crying, and I didn't want people to get the wrong idea.

"What's wrong?"

"Mind your business," I told Aro, continuing on.

They let me go, didn't say another word, but when I entered the office Layla was in there. That chick who was hurt… She was at Sonny's desk going over invoices. "What are you doing in here?" I asked.

She shot up, staring at Amelia. "Is she okay?"

"I asked _you_ the question." I stood in front of Amelia, who'd gone for the door. I was quick to run and stop her from opening it, slamming my hands on the door above her head. "Stop being dramatic—I just wanna talk." Bringing her over to the couch, she plopped down, giving me this cold glare. "You ripping my brother off?" I turned back to that chick.

She shook her head no. "I, uh, Mr. Cullen wanted me to make-make-ma-make out a-a list—for inventory? What-what we buy more of and such." She was shaking.

"Go." I pointed to the door, and she ran.

Once the door closed, I breathed a sigh of relief. The walls were still pumping from the music, but it was peaceful—better than some street. "Can you talk to me now?" Sitting next to Amelia, I took her hand into mine.

"I think I hate you," she whispered.

I nodded. "That's a strong emotion—go with it." That shit just flew out of my mouth, like she was one of the patients I saw.

Apparently, she didn't like that response either. Amelia fucking punched me in the face—right in the nose.

"Fuck." Instinctively, I grabbed a hold of her hair to stop her. "What the fuck was that for?" I shook her a bit.

"Oww—"

"Oh, but you can punch me…?" I found it hilarious, laughing and leaning over her—incredibly turned on by her temper.

"You sounded like an asshole." She pushed her tits out, giving off those fuck-me vibes. "You just—" She stared at my lips, her chest heaving.

"Christ…you—" Words failed me, staring into those watery, beautiful brown eyes, needing to kiss her pouty mouth. "I lo—"

I stopped when the door burst open. It was my brother. He stood in the doorway, looking like a madman.

"Get away from her," Sonny said.

"We're talking—"

"That's talking?" he shouted, gesturing toward us.

Letting go of Amelia's hair, I said, "Fuck you" and shook my head in disbelief; people were buggin' today. "Just give me a minute."

My brother came barreling toward me, and then I was thrown halfway across the room. It all happened so fast, I barely had time to register a thing.

Shooting up, I rammed into him—making him fall back. There were various screams—mostly by Amelia, and I heard Aro shouting, telling people to stay back. Sonny had the upper hand, straddling me—punching me in the face, while I tried to block him, but then—as hard as I could—I got him with my forearms, right in his gut.

He grunted, falling over to his side, and I was on him fast—using my forearm again to choke off his air supply, hugging his head with my other arm. I wasn't sure where that strength came from, but my teeth were grinding—about to break a fucking tooth with the anger I felt. I was about to say it—tell Amelia the words I so desperately wanted her to hear, and he had to ruin it. Because he's miserable, I have to be, too.

Amelia thinks I'm intense, but we're—the way we care for one another—_is_ intense. Others just wouldn't understand. Nothing, not even Sonny, was going to take her away from me.

"All right, Dame—let go." Aro pulled me by my shoulders.

My heart was thumping in my chest, ignoring Sonny's nails digging into my arm, his legs flailing, my entire body shaking.

But then it all went black . . .

Sonny, who was likely holding himself back, letting me choke him for a bit, punched me in the head.

My eyes fluttered, my vision blurry at first, and Sonny was in my face. I threw my fist out, and he caught my hand. "Good…you're alive." He backed off.

My head ached something horrible when I sat up, sure I had a minor concussion. "Where's—"

"She left—"

"What?" I jumped to my feet, grabbing my nine from my waist. "You let her go?"

He stared at my heat. "What'chu gonna do, Dame? You gonna shoot me?" He found this amusing.

"You motherfucker—"

Then I heard a gasp come from behind me and whipped to the sound. It was Amelia.

"I asked her to step out…just for a minute," Sonny said, tilting his head and staring at me. He wasn't sizing me up. His gaze was scrutinizing.

"Damion…" Amelia stopped where she was.

"Get in here." I pointed my shit to the ground.

"Put the gun away." Sonny was unfazed, and I wished he was . . . He had no idea. No fucking idea what I would have done to him had he let Amelia leave. I'm not stupid. My girl does have a temper, and once she crosses the line into Jersey . . . I no longer have any hold.

"Oh…check out this big shot." Caius and Aro were suddenly behind Amelia in the doorway.

"Oh, ho-ho," Aro laughed, waving his hands.

"Put it down, Dame." Now Sonny didn't look so calm with them here. "Don't provoke him. All three of you—get out," he spoke to everyone but me.

I shook my throbbing head.

"Gimme a fucking break." Caius scoffed, walking farther into the room. "This little shit…?" Now, _he_ sized me up, looking me up and down.

My eyes followed every step he made . . .

But then Aro stopped him, staring at me. "Call the Skip—tell him his kid's about to get shot."

"Do not call my father again." Sonny sounded bored now. "Bet he's on his way here already."

"Damion…" Amelia placed her hand on my chest.

"Come on, hon…your boyfriend's about to have a mental meltdown." Aro ushered her away—he put his hands on her, and I put my Glock to his neck. "Put it down," he said. "We both know you ain't gonna do shit—"

"Don't!" Sonny shouted, and my finger was itching.

"Go 'head." Caius nodded. "Go for it, Dame. You know you want to."

Aro laughed. "Fucking C-bag—stop messin' wit' the kid."

"What the fuck?" Sonny widened his arms, and there was too much movement going on in the room. "Don't provoke him!"

"Look at me," Amelia said, stepping out in front of Aro. My body went limp as she directed the gun down and to her chest. "Put the gun away—"

"Maybe you should listen to your girl—"

"Quiet," Sonny hissed at Caius.

"I love you," Amelia whispered. She was crying, and I felt this . . . tremendous amount of relief, even my shoulders relaxed. But then, I suddenly felt like I was trapped in this fucked up nightmare.

"What?" I rasped.

"I-I said I love you," she sobbed.

I nodded. "I love you, too." My eyes slowly trailed about the room. "What's wrong with me?" I think I asked myself that question.

No one answered me either way.

Sonny snatched the nine right out of my hand, and I let him, gulping—my mouth like a desert. Then my brother pushed Caius out of the room, turning back to Amelia. "Can you give us a minute?" He looked to me fast. "Just a minute."

I didn't say anything, cradling my hurting head and collapsing to the couch.

Once the door clicked closed, Sonny came over to my side. "What can I do to help you?" he whispered.

I didn't answer him.

"Maybe he needs a doctor—maybe you knocked the last screw loose," Aro said.

"Fuck you." I spat.

He laughed. "Good. You're still with us." Aro patted my back. "I don't know what that whole shit was about . . . but do-do you _want_ me to call your parents?" I think I saw fear in his eyes. "Your father—"

"No." I pulled on my hair, and even that was painful. "I'm fine." Deep in my heart, I knew Amelia was definitely leaving now, despite whatever she felt—she'd seen me. That side of me had been exposed, and she was going to run, but I couldn't imagine that—not now, not ever, not when I'd—by any means necessary—do whatever it'd take to keep her.

"We all go a little googootz sometimes. Know what I mean?" Aro asked. "You'll be okay." He squeezed my shoulder, and then he was gone too.

Sonny was the last man standing, or sitting in his case. "What the fuck was that?"

I shrugged.

"You're scaring the fuck out of me, and I don't know how to help you…" His voice had an anguish in it that I couldn't place. "I always look out for you, but…I mean, you were so happy before. I don't understand."

I didn't reply.

"Do you truly not realize what's right and what's wrong? The difference? Is that what it is? Because . . . you do things, carry on like there'll be no consequences…yoking up women, pointing Glocks at fuckers who'll kill you faster than you could pull a trigger. Shit. Important women at that...Alex and now Amelia—"

"I didn't hurt Amelia," I whispered. "I was drunk that one night—"

"Okay." He put his hands out. "Do you have a death wish? Do you want to die? Because that's what's going to happen." He nodded. "Dad and I can only do so much. There's already a pile of bodies because of the shit you pulled. Maybe Joe's no longer talking, but others are . . . You also can't burn bridges—you can't point a fucking gun and not—"

"I had every intention of—"

"Exactly, and then you'd be dead," he said. "I need you to help me help you." He placed his hand on my knee.

I laughed. "Maybe we should trade places . . . you be me for the next three weeks." Maybe being with all those head cases fucked with me, but I knew that wasn't true. "Why do I feel—why do I feel everything at once and then nothing at all? There's different levels of anger—"

"And you just flip the fuck out. You go from being cool to insane in seconds," he laughed. "I know. Dad's like that, too…sometimes."

I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"He _told you_ not to come here." He nudged my elbow. "When he says all of it or none of it, he means that. You can't be half a gangster, Dame. There's no such thing. When you have a button, you can get away with a lot more. Right now? You're basically an outsider—fuck your last name, or who your father is. You're a nobody who pulled a nine on two capos and a underboss." When he laid it out, it sounded even worse. "And fucking Amelia . . . She's not the type to tattle to Daddy, is she?" No, that shit was worse.

"No," I said. "I think she's used to me by now. It started as a game . . . She does this—does things to get reactions out of me."

"Well, she got one—got roughed up and told she was loved all in the same night. That's—I don't know what to call that."

Neither did I. "I didn't rough her up."

"Bro, the way _you_ love and the way_ I_ love are two different things." He grimaced. "But I get it."

"You're a pussy—"

"No," he said.

"We're back to this?" I asked. "You judge me, but you're just going to let Katie walk away again? What the fuck for? Put your foot down."

"This isn't about me, Dame," Sonny sighed, looking away from me. "Stop deflecting . . . I know it's easy, but cut it out and be straight with me."

I groaned, shaking my head of the last of the fog. "I'm fine, all right? No worries."

"You're not—"

I put my hand out.

"No fucking way." He put my nine in his waist. "This shit is mine now. I'm not giving it back—" There was a knock, and we both turned for the door.

Amelia stood there with that Layla chick peeking in from behind her. This shit was none of her business.

"What is she, what's her deal?" I gestured to her.

Layla was attacked, so now she's the Patron Saint of all crying women? She can go chill with Alex.

"Me?" Amelia pointed to herself. "It's me, Damion. It's Amelia."

"No, I mean . . . Fuck." I held my face.

Sonny laughed at me—at the situation.

"Hey." Amelia pulled on my arm. "You okay?"

I nodded. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," she whispered, but my attention was torn away from her.

My father came stomping into the office. "It's like you're fucking babies—all of youse!" He was pissed. "Kylie can't hold her liquor, puking everywhere—Dame's throwing a tantrum." He turned to Amelia. "Go get me a drink—a bottle of Jack."

_My_ girl scurried away to fetch that for him.

"What the fuck?" I asked.

Dad was shaking his head at Sonny. "I got laid more when youse were toddlers . . ."

Sonny chuckled. "That—that sucks."

"Tell me about it." Dad took off his coat. "Mom was tipsy, too, and you know she goes into freak mode."

"Eh, eh, eh." Sonny plugged his ears.

"Oh, fuck you." Dad pushed him playfully. "I gotta hear about every blowjob you ever had, you can hear—"

"That's my mother!" Sonny was laughing.

Dad pursed his lips. "All right...I get it."

"You can talk to me . . . When I hear the word freak, though, I just don't wanna hear anymore."

They were both in hysterics now.

They were both ignoring me.

Not once had my father even glanced over at me.

They got all quiet when Amelia came in with the Jack. "Hon, Sonny's gonna drive you home—"

"Hell no!" I shouted.

"I had a couple. It'd be wise I didn't drive." Sonny scratched his head, but—sadly—that wasn't what I was worried about. My stomach rolled with nausea—just the thought of him being alone with her.

"Then have someone else drive youse, but you're taking the ride," Dad explained. "Luke knows you, and so you'll take her home—"

"I can—"

"You don't talk." He waved a finger at me. "Go," he told Sonny.

My brother was fast to gather his things as I walked over to Amelia. I didn't know where we stood—what was going on, or . . . anything. "I'm sorry."

Her lip quivered. "Call me—no matter what time."

"What?"

"Call me." Her eyes widened. "Let me know you're okay." She reached for my head. "He hit you so hard . . . I just—I think you should go to the ER." She was worried about me.

"You don't hate me." Relief flooded me again, practically brought fucking tears to my eyes.

"No," she said. "I love you."

I swallowed. "I love you, too." I held her cheek, my knuckles bloodied and red. "I do everything wrong." And I'd more than likely hurt her again in some way, but I was too fucking selfish to let her go.

"Different." She snorted. "Not wrong, just different." Her smile . . . it just—

"All right. All is grand in Loverville, now scram." Dad waved her and Sonny away. "It was very nice seeing you again." He patted Amelia's head.

When they were gone, my father turned to me. He made me sit in a chair while he occupied the desk, and then we stared at each other for a long time. I was pissed at him for letting Sonny take Amelia home. Logically, I knew she had to go, but I didn't want her to.

"You better start talking, or I'm gonna start swinging." He looked to his watch. "I got people calling me, telling me you're here when you're not supposed to be...then there's a hold-up at my club . . . I'm thinking the worst, but it's my son throwing a hissy fit."

I threw my hands in the air. "Right…tease me. You don't treat Sonny—"

"Oh, no." He shook his head. "Sonny works for me. You'd cry if I treated you the same way I treat him. Maybe that's where I went wrong?" He stared at me. "Always having to worry about your feelings . . . your mother always telling me how sensitive you were," he laughed.

"I hate you."

"I know." He nodded. "I've realized that lately."

"Good," I said.

"We're a lot alike—me and you." He waved a finger, bringing the bottle of liquor to his lips with the other hand. "You want?"

I declined the booze, gritting my teeth together.

"I can sit here all night . . ." He swiveled in his chair. "You can stew, plot ways to kill me, or you can talk to me. Tell me what the fuck your problems are—tell me where I went wrong as a parent." He found that shit funny, too.

"I'm fine—I snapped. I'm fine now. Case closed."

"Until next time." He pointed to me. "Your behavior will escalate and escalate until you're A) Dead, B) In a straitjacket, or C) In prison." He smiled, counting off his fingers. "Take my word for it."

"What makes you so sure?" I asked.

He smiled, turning away from me. "I won't lie. I can't help you, because I don't know how. But I can do what I've been doing all my life."

"What's that?" I raised a brow.

"Play devil's advocate." He moved in his chair again, swaying from side to side, and he did resemble Satan in a way . . . "You, me, that fucker Caius . . . We're all cut from the same mold, have that same . . . side to us."

"I'm nothing like that asshole—"

"You're a natural born killer. That sound better?" he asked. "I think the technical term is sociopath."

I put my head down, didn't know what to say.

"And I can't seem to keep you away from all this . . . My mind automatically goes to how I can utilize you, not necessarily how to punish you." He pursed his lips. "Beating the fuck out of ya would be ideal, but Sonny already took care of that."

I glared at him.

He smirked back at me. "You ain't shit, baby boy . . . You can try to knock me down, but the key word is 'try'." And he lost me. I had no idea what he was talking about. "The day you try to take me out . . ." He chuckled, and I'd never seen this side to him.

"You just keep reminding yourself that while you might be invisible to others, you're not to me. I can see every side to you." Dad took a swig from the bottle. "You want some now? Thirsty?"

I cautiously took the Jack Daniel's from him, taking a large gulp.

"I know exactly what happened . . . You were feeling a certain way, too overwhelmed. It happens to guys like us—guys who don't know how to act when we actually feel. Then one of those fuckers caught you at the wrong time. Made you—in your words—snap?"

I took another sip of booze.

"Oh, I'm right." He clapped. "Learn from now. I always am."

I nodded, my cheeks puffing and burning before I swallowed all the liquor down.

"There's two kinds of cats in this thing . . . Ones that are like you, me, Caius, and Lou, and those who are like your brother, MY brother, Jasper, Aro, Anton, Nunzio—the logical thinkers, the moneymakers. You wanna be friendly with them. They're the bread and butter behind this whole thing . . . the whole thing." He trailed off with a sigh, swiveling in that damn chair again. "But you need something done? You come to me, you do it yourself, or you ask Caius . . . Aro, too. He's versatile, and one may say he's the one to watch out for, but he's relatively harmless—has a big heart. We all balance each other out, I guess...keep each other in check."

"Are you drunk?" I asked, clearing my throat.

"Maybe . . . I was at your uncle's house. We all went there after dinner." He blew out a breath. "The babies, the twins were somewhere. I dunno . . . You know, your cousin Eddie scares me—the way he looks at your sister. It ain't right."

"He's curious," I said. "What's he, fifteen? Kylie's the only one close to his age."

"Still . . . fucking freak. We're all freaks. Each one of us is more fucked than the next." He pointed to me.

"Is _there_ a point to this?" I whispered, my head still throbbing, and I passed the bottle back over to him—knowing I shouldn't be drinking.

"You were doing so well. I hadn't heard from you—anything bad, I mean. You were all smiles . . . in love." He grinned, bunching his shoulders. "It was cute . . . while it lasted, and I was happy for you."

"She's still—"

"I meant that cloud you were on, while you were trying to channel your bad behavior, that energy into sex and kinky shit."

He had me there, and I didn't say a word.

"You'll get used to having a heart...feeling, having emotions besides waning, bullshit desires—shit that only temporarily gets you off. You'll also get used to dealing—when your heart's threatened to be taken from you. You won't flip out every time. Feeling something won't be such a shock, and you'll handle things better. Make sense?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes...we just need a good woman to wake us up—make us feel, fall in love, and open our eyes." He chuckled. "We all have our soft spots, and you can't show any weakness. Your brother is good at that. Maybe he doesn't like to get his hands dirty, maybe he loses his temper sometimes—which _can_ be seen as a fault, others will learn how to push his buttons—but he's tough as nails. He has _real_ heart—honor, loyalty, respect—all the shit I taught him. He's smart, doesn't whine...Christ, I can't remember the last time that kid cried. The only thing he doesn't have is love . . . He only thinks—fooled himself into believing he loves Katie. Once he realizes, deals and gets over that hurdle, falls in love again..." He looked back to me. "I think we'll see a whole different side of him. Although I could be wrong...I'm still going to support him while he tries to make it work with her. On the real, though, you—you're his weakness in some ways. You're his best friend, he'll always go to bat for you—Kylie, too."

He smiled at me. "I'm sorry for rambling...my head flew away from me."

I shrugged.

"I used your brother as an example. My point is you only _think_ you're void of emotion, Dame, but you're really not. You don't even mask that shit well, as much as you try. Others don't have to try at all. You say you don't give a fuck about anything, when you actually care about everything." He widened his arms. "Yet, you still do what you want even if it's wrong. You _know_ right from wrong, and you choose to fuck up anyway; meanwhile, fucking up doesn't faze you, which is likely why you do it. But you still care . . . That doesn't mean you don't give a fuck . . . it means other things—" He furrowed his brow. "I'm not going to tell you. You have to figure that shit out on your own. Plus, I'd hate to insult you, or condemn you to those qualities. Know what I mean?"

I nodded.

Either way, the next time Dad sees Sonny, he should just get on his knees and suck his dick. Sonny's the boy wonder. Like I didn't fucking know that already.

Dad hummed, staring at me for a beat too long. "You think no one understands you, right?"

Once a-fucking-gain, I didn't say anything—anything I'd say at this point would be considered whining.

"I'm sure you think Amelia does, and that's awesome. _Salute_." He tilted the bottle back. "But what are you doing?"

"About…?" I asked.

He ignored that. "Bottom line, you have to keep your eyes on them all."

"Who?"

He twirled a finger, meaning his guys. "The ones closest to you will turn on you faster—hurt you the most. It's disappointing. I've been lucky so far."

"You have?" I encouraged him, and I didn't know why.

"Yeah." He nodded. "For years, I thought Aro or Carlisle would—pop." He pulled an air trigger. "But not for my seat . . . for your mother." He winked, sitting up in his chair. "Amelia . . . she reminds me of your mother a lot—a lot." He bit his lower lip. "She's gorgeous, funny—a real ride or die chick. You need to hold onto her—with two hands. You don't let that bitch go." Finally, he was saying something I could definitely agree with, relate to.

"She's loyal, accepts your erratic behavior, and she'll love you to the point of stupidity. And you won't understand. At times, it'll be too much, but the payoff . . . it's worth it," he laughed. "In the end, I love you—Damion, I love the fuck out of you, Sonny, and Kylie. I won't lie, Kylie's my favorite."

"Great."

He rolled his eyes. "I was kidding."

I didn't say anything.

"But your mother . . . She's my everything." He pointed to himself. "And I know…besides this burst of love your feeling at the moment, Mom's your everything too."

I didn't comment again, but he was correct. The love I feel for Amelia is completely different—on a whole different wavelength—than the love and trust I have for my mother. She's my fucking mother, and I love her to death.

"Sonny—forget about it. The bullshit with Katie, _any_ woman he meets…" He made a fart noise with his mouth. "Now that's one loyal motherfucker," he laughed, "loves his momma possibly as much as I do."

"That's a bad thing?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No way. In our house, chivalry isn't dead. We even go to extremes . . . When we don't give a fuck, we don't give a fuck, but when we love . . . _we love_. You feel me?"

"I do," I whispered. "But…why were you quick to send Amelia away? If you're encouraging—"

"To give you something to think about." He smiled.

"Think about?" Now I raised a challenging brow. "Or did you just pit Sonny against me for the fuck of it? You know how he is—" I trust Sonny, but I couldn't stomach the thought of him alone with my girl, and—for some reason—I think my father knows that.

He shrugged. "I guess you'll never know."

Dad was fucking with me. How many times had I done shit to Sonny or whoever and had that same answer. Maybe he's trying to teach me some fucked-up lesson. I wasn't sure, but he's my father. Why would he do something like that? Go out of his way to make me feel like this. His whole demeanor, the things he's said, the way he's acting toward me, it makes me wonder if he hates me, too. I didn't mean what I said before, but he . . .

"What kind of games are you playing? What's the point of doing that shit?"

My father laughed, a deep, belly laugh. "Come on. It's Sonny—honest to a fault, the gentle giant. If he didn't resemble me, I'd swear he was Aro's kid."

"Did you ever think he might Carlisle's?" I ducked when the bottle of Jack came soaring toward my head—right fucking at me, only to crash onto the floor, the sound of glass shattering. If I hadn't moved . . .

"I was kidding," I said.

He locked eyes with me, slamming a pad of paper and a pen down in front of me. "I want your whole schedule—"

"For what?"

"Write it down. Now." He pointed.

Blowing out a breath, I leaned forward to do as he asked.

"I want school hours, Amelia hours, hospital hours—write down the times of day you're likely to take a shit!"

I rolled my eyes, which made him slam his fist down. "I'm doing it," I said, and my daily routine didn't consist of much—just large blocks of time where I was either on campus or at the hospital. When it came down to it, Amelia's schedule only meshes with mine three days a week—Tuesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays.

"Tuesday nights . . . you're mine—from dinnertime on. We'll start . . . Expect phone calls from me starting on November 2nd. I'm off this week, and then I got shit to do next week—stuff I can't hold your hand through."

"For what?" I asked.

"Sonny won't work with you . . . you'll work with me."

"You're serious?" I snorted.

"As a fucking heart attack." He spat. "Other weeknights, too. I'll let you know—keep your ringer on. When I was just starting . . . I never slept, but I was in school, too. I think that kept me on point. You know? You can either embrace this side to yourself, or cope...deal, let it go…We'll see." He was cryptic.

"Okay," I agreed, basically selling my soul to the Devil. "Sonny has my Glock."

He smirked at me and dug into his breast pocket. "Then take this."

I stared at the butterfly knife in his hand. "What am I going to do with that? Just get mine back from him—"

He shook his head. "You don't get your heat back until you've earned it, until you can respect the sword others will die by. My thing—this, _my_ organization—ain't no joke—it's a business, and you're going to learn. I'll teach you the same way I taught Sonny, by showing you. . ."

"How to clip someone with that?" I pointed.

"No!" he shouted. "You know the saying . . . _you can talk the talk_. Listen to you...clip." He started laughing.

I rubbed the bump on my head, trying to make sense of his words.

"I meant, I'll be teaching you about loyalty, honor, and respect the only other way I know how. I thought I did—as your father, I thought I'd done that already." He frowned. "This thing of ours is a well oiled machine, and I can't have some punk-ass kid coming in and riling shit up, starting trouble. There's only so much I can do to have your back. One day, I mean, Sonny or me...we might not be around to pull rank. You feel me...? Now, take it." He held the knife out to me. "Come on...it's not that bad. Push comes to shove, you can get really crafty with one of these fuckers."

I took it from him and stuffed it into my pocket.

"Where's your sense of adventure, creativity?" he laughed. "There are a plethora of ways to...do some shit." He suddenly had a somber tone. "Regardless, Sonny gave the nine to you, he can take it back—whatever."

Since my father decided to take most of the week off, and he was at Eclipse anyway, he made me leave. He had business to conduct, and I was like . . . Felt like I was out to sea, in a boat without a paddle. Amelia sent me a text. There was no traffic, and she got home in no time.

Calling Sonny to see where he was, my brother was already minutes away from Eclipse.

Being uneasy about them together doesn't stem from distrust, per se. Okay, so I don't know if I truly trust anyone, but that's an issue for another day. Sonny's just...He knows how to talk to women. He's smooth, and I was afraid Amelia's affection might shift? It made me feel uneasy.

And I was halfway home to Bay Ridge, not my dorm room, when Sonny asked me if I wanted to hang out. I declined, content to just chill out, get a good night's sleep.

When I left the taxi, my eyes traveled up to the moon. I don't know what it's called...when it looks like the top half of a thumbnail. Maggie would know what it was called, and my gaze lingered on her house. The lights were on in one of the bedrooms on the second floor, and I bet that was her room. It was curiosity that had me staring, hoping she'd get a hunch to look out her window, because God knew, I needed someone to talk to . . . an angel would do.

_An angel . . . _

I didn't want to fuck her anymore, seeing how young she truly was, yet there was still some appeal there. I'm 100% devoted to Amelia, but I can't deny that I find Maggie attractive. She was cool, could be my friend. For some reason, I wasn't as ready to easily blow her off. I felt bad as I'd forgotten all about her, but not really. I didn't know what it was about her. I could just talk to her, just be myself, and she listened.

We were both drunk that night, but . . .

Dad said she snuck into the backyard, like a ninja or some shit since Vito never caught her. Maybe he wasn't there, though.

And she did all that just to see me, the last person to deserve her company.

_She's a silly little angel._

I laughed to myself and stopped pacing along the sidewalk.

Maggie never opened her blinds, and I entered my parents' house. It was quiet. I tiptoed around, not wanting to disturb anyone. Amelia actually called me while I was drinking a bottle of water in the kitchen.

She said "I love you" again, and that was pretty fucking awesome. We talked for a little while, which made me feel a whole lot better. I apologized once more, and then she told me just how crazy she was about me.

That was when I realized something . . .

Those patients at the hospital weren't driving me mad. It was me keeping shit bottled up, biting my fucking tongue, that did it. Suppressing shit is what screws you up. Like I told Amelia, face your fears guns blazing, reach for the damn stars.

Why the hell not?

_Fuck fear._

And I'd promised myself that I'd speak up a lot more a while ago.

Why did I sit there and let Dad talk to me like that?

Feeling wired, I actually went into my parents' room. As if I was a kid, I wanted to wake up my mother, and I had no idea why. Amelia couldn't squash _all_ those dreadful emotions, no matter how much she loved me, but maybe Mom could?

"Edward . . . Stop pacing by the window."

I paused, stopped pacing and held my lips. Her talking startled me.

"Talk to me—spit it out or come to bed." She sounded half-asleep. "Just stop pacing."

"It's me." I rasped, quick to clear my throat.

Mom shot up. "Dame? What's wrong?"

It made me smile and I knelt down to her side of the bed. "Nothing."

She held my cheek. "You sure?"

I nodded. "I told Amelia...I love her. She said it first, but..."

Mom smiled brightly. "I knew you did. Well, _know_ you do."

"Yeah..."

"Why do you look so sad? You should be rejoicing, not...you know." She poked my side.

"Um." I was about to be very fucking honest; meanwhile, I felt like a total pussy. "Can I just rest my head here, and you scratch my head, like when I was little?"

Mom was still smiling when she scooted over and patted the bed. It was awkward, but I crawled in, keeping my back to her. "Can you tell me what's really wrong?"

"I love you," I whispered. "I guess...I just miss you."

_I'm also insane or probably on my way there. I scare myself daily, but don't worry, Ma._

"My Dame-y Bear. I love you, too." She kissed my hair, running her fingernails along my scalp. "Where'd you get this bump?"

"Um...I tripped over something. I don't know."

"Sonny knocked you one?"

"Yeah," I admitted.

"Why do you have to lie?"

"I have no idea." I was honest.

She sighed. "Everything happened so fast. Things changed overnight it seems. But everything will be okay."

"You promise?" And it sucked that I actually felt safe, I felt at ease. I'm almost twenty-five years old for fuck's sake.

"I promise."

"Cool." I grinned.

**Thank you for reading.**

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

**Oh, and please don't give me shit if you're offended by Dame's inner thoughts. I don't think that way. While I realize some of it is sensitive subject matter, and I WILL apologize if you're offended, I did give you guys a warning. Mental illness plagues a lot of us, and it's no joke. I know this. **

* * *

**I'm so glad they're reposting these! Adult stories FOR adults. Amazing, really great. Check them out.**

**FIC RECS: Two of my favorites are BACK!**

**Scars and Souvenirs by Ashma0407**

RE-POST...A pending divorce, kids and reconnecting with a lost love. *Working summary* (**Lexi's summary**: Bella is unhappily married, and then she gets a surprise phone call from an old flame, Edward. Life and circumstances tore them apart, but can they reconnect - repair what was once shattered, their hearts?)

**www dot fanfiction dot net/s/8023233/1/Scars-and-Souvenirs**

**At Last by Itlnbrt**

Edward and Bella find each other while married to others. Go on their journey while they try and find a way to be together and make it work. They have a lot to learn along the way to finally be together, at last.

**www dot fanfiction dot net/s/8533785/1/At-Last**


	17. Reality

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**HAPPY Sunday! **

**Have you guys read my new story? It's Copward/NYPDward :-) It's called "Offbeat".**

**Do I have any other announcements? No, not really. LOL. See you at the end!**

**Oh, I realize some of you might miss Bella . . . She'll be up soon! Next chap!**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Seventeen: Reality**

**Kylie POV**

"Kylie, you ready?" my uncle shouted from upstairs. His voice startled me, and I quickly shut Anthony's laptop down. He has loads of gay porn, and I find it all so interesting, and hot—oh so very hot. Two men going at it . . . the butt seks.

I remembered to delete the browsing history and empty the cache, just like Ant taught me. At home, we have private browsing, which is a godsend. But here, because of my younger cousin, Eddie, they like to crackdown on shit he views on the Internet.

Anthony had to leave early. He's starting a new job, working for Sonny—something with junk bonds or junk stocks. I don't know. He looked hot in his Valentino suit, though. He let me pick out his clothes—like Kylie Eye for the Queer Guy.

I thought being fashionable was expected, a prerequisite of sorts. I don't know a lot of homosexual people. Anthony is the only one, but Damion actually has more fashion-sense than my cousin does.

And Dame has a hard time matching his own clothes, like...the man seriously needs some Garanimal-wear. He'll just throw anything on, but all of that doesn't fly while I'm around. I make sure my guys look decent.

"Kylie!"

I groaned, grabbing my bag and purse. "I'm coming!" Apparently, my parents were home from their quick get-away.

Believe it or not, I had a lot of fun staying here. My uncle never bothered me like Daddy does. He didn't care about what I did, although I haven't left the house...

Anthony and Alex are a hoot to drink wine with. They're goofballs, and I never really saw my aunt like that—carefree and fun. We've always been close—the lot of us—but this past weekend . . .

I liked the family dynamic they had? It wasn't even weird seeing Carli at dinner. Everything was peaceful, and I never spoke about Joe. I wanted to, had to bite my tongue, since I wondered if she was still seeing him, or if he was with Bianca now.

It was even funny watching Hanna throw a bitch fit on the phone with All State, her insurance company or something. She got into a fender bender months ago, and they're giving her a hard time about reimbursement—her car was wrecked. But then, of course, Uncle Carlisle spoke to them—fucking reamed whoever a new asshole—and a check is likely in the mail as we speak.

It was nice actually getting to chill with Hanna and Carli. They kind of keep to themselves these days, but they still—like most others—treat me like a baby.

I really didn't want to go home.

Being here . . . it was like being with one of those TV families. I did miss my mom, though. Having her with us would have been the icing on the cake. She's so much fun…when Dad and Sonny aren't around. It has nothing to do with them as people, but I know they'd frown upon Mom being so . . . perverse? Fun with _me—_baby girl_—_around?

I swear. I have two dads in my father and Sonny; meanwhile, I really _can_ open up to Sonny. He's not as judgmental, even if he doesn't like what I have to say. He gives decent advice, too.

We can always be ourselves around Damion. He just doesn't care, and therefore, he's like my secret keeper. When I see Damion, I just want to tell him everything. Unlike Sonny, he rarely gives advice; all he does is listen, and that's pretty fucking cool.

Trudging up the stairs, Uncle Carlisle met me at the landing. "I have to go to work."

"I can just walk..." We do live three blocks away.

"Nope. Eat something fast and let's go." He left the doorway, buttoning his cuffs.

"You know…" Aunt Alex started. She was standing at the stove making breakfast. "I can just take her after I take the twins to school. Tony won't mind. We'll swing by afterward. Bella and I can have coffee..." She wasn't fooling anyone. I'm sure she loves me and enjoys spending time with me, but since I've been around the twins are up my ass—not hers—and I help her get them off to school, which goes by really fast. We make it a game, who can dress their twin the fastest. She's won every day so far, but she does it every day.

I was quick to munch on the ready pieces of bacon while they discussed it.

It's the same in this house as my own—if you're not there when meals are served, you can't complain when there's none left.

"I'm sure Ed and B miss her." He kissed her cheek. "I'll be home early."

Alex smiled. "Awesome. What do you want for dinner?"

I stole a piece of toast from my baby cousin. "Hey!" Blaze didn't like that.

Making sure to chew it good, I showed him the toast in my mouth. "You want it back?" I mumbled.

"Yuck!" He and his brother shouted in unison.

"Love you guys." I gave them each a kiss on their heads, while my aunt and uncle continued to talk about dinner. "Be good for your mom."

They looked to each other. It was almost conspiratorial.

"I won't be your friend if you don't behave."

Ronnie and Blaze nodded—knowing I meant business.

"And eat your food…or I will." I scooped some of Blaze's scrambled eggs into my mouth.

"Honestly…I'll eat whatever you make," my uncle said, and they were still talking about that shit. If Dad doesn't like what Mom makes, he starves. Kidding. He'd likely eat it anyway.

"I have chicken defrosted, but if you want steak—"

My uncle placed a finger over her lips, and then he kissed her.

I turned away to eat some of Ronnie's eggs. It's not stealing; they won't eat it all anyway.

"Lemme see," he giggled.

I opened my mouth to show them my chewed food. The twins get a kick out of it; they always do.

"Eat this." Blaze gave me a piece of his bacon.

_It's bacon. I wasn't going to turn that down._

"Shit…I'm gonna be late." Little Eddie was a flash of movement through the kitchen. He barreled down the back staircase, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and then he was gone.

My cousin chooses to take the bus to school—something I wouldn't be caught dead doing, even if my parents let me. He's lucky that he doesn't have some goon following him everywhere, though. Alex has a driver named Tony, but Eddie's a boy . . . The bus stop is across the street, too. I'm not sure if that factor counts. I think it's just because he's a dude.

Things are a certain way for females and then another way for males in this family. A lot of it is unfair.

Anyway, Eddie's a weirdo—swears I left the door unlocked while I was showering last night, but I know better. He jimmied the lock—weirdo. _So fucking weird._ He didn't see anything, but I bet he hoped he did. I thought about telling Damion, but my brother probably wouldn't care. Sonny might smack him around . . .

"Edward Carlisle!" Alex hollered for him, but he was gone. "He has to eat breakfast." She groaned, her eyes landing on me. "You too—make a plate for Christ's sake."

"I'm okay." I laughed, while Blaze handed me another piece of toast.

"Eddie's trying to show us he's a man now, love. He'll eat at school...Remember? We went through the same thing with Ant." My uncle kissed Alex again, and I think that's all they do—kiss and paw at each other, like my parents.

Looking back to Alex, she was staring up at my uncle, only to sigh.

And these days, I hate looks like that—seeing everyone so in love—when _my love_ is miles away. I was bitter and sad, and I didn't care who knew it.

It was true.

"I'll be in the car," I said.

"Wait for me."

I stopped, hearing my uncle say that. Honestly, did they think someone was going to hop out of a bush and kidnap me?

Uncle Carlisle walked ahead of me in his Gucci suit—_that man_ has style—with his briefcase. "I think you'll like what your dad has to tell you." He snatched the toast away from me and ate it.

But what he said caught my attention. "What? Did they bring me back something?"

He smiled, chewing. "Maybe." He kissed my hair, opening the front door for me.

Suddenly excited, I shook the crumbs from my hair and skipped to his car. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed. "It's a car, isn't it?" I've been doing everything I can to get one – hinting at it for nearly two weeks now. "Oh…is it?" I was vibrating with joy, anxious to get home.

Uncle Carlisle smirked, taking my bags and placing them in his trunk. "I don't know."

I hopped into the front seat, shouting, "Come on! Let's go!"

He thought it was funny as he joined me and started the car. "It's rare we get to hang out. Did you want to go for coffee? We can chill and talk."

"Hell no!" I knew he was messing with me now. "Take me home."

He chuckled, backing out of the garage.

As he drove, a random, yet important thought came to mind. "I thought tonight we were supposed to all go to Sonny's?"

Uncle Carlisle shook his head. "That's just for your mom and dad, Aro—for_ their_ parents."

"Is everything okay?"

"Eh..." He frowned. "Sonny and Katie just have some news."

I gasped. "It's twins? They're having twins?"

"God no! . . . Excuse me," he laughed. "I'm sure someone will tell you."

"I'm going with them then."

"That's up to your parents—Sonny." He shrugged. "I don't see why you can't go."

I nodded. "Good." Then another thought came to mind. "Plane tickets? I can go see Gio this weekend...? Oh my gosh!"

He shook his head no, and we stopped at a light.

"Can you give me a hint?"

"Nope." He took off.

I pouted in the passenger seat. "You know . . . I helped a lot with the twins. All of which probably made Alex less tired . . . I bet I helped get you laid."

"Excuse me?" He wore a blank face, and then guffawed. "Kylie Marie . . . Are you this blunt with your father? If you toned it down, by a notch, maybe he'd give you more freedom. You probably scare the man."

"There's no shame in my game." I puffed my cheeks, leaning back. "And I hear the way you, Dad—the way you guys talk to—basically all the boys. It's not fair, hypocritical. You're all perverts, but it's accepted because you're all men. Women can be pervy, too."

"Shame in your game?" He shook his head. "And I refuse to see you, my baby niece, as pervy. Shut up with that shit." Now he sounded like my father.

I started giggling. Just like Dad, he's easy to mess with. "I'm just saying . . .You could at least give me a hint." I shrugged. "I heard you guys going at it," I lied, softly punching his shoulder. "I was like your pimp, bro. She wasn't as tired—bet she rode the pony real good." I stopped while I was ahead—didn't want to cause an accident. The vein in my uncle's forehead was throbbing. I was getting on his nerves.

"Enough." He put a hand up to stop me. "You were being a good cousin. Don't call yourself a pimp." He chuckled, reaching into his pocket. "But there's nothing wrong with positive reinforcement. Thank you." He gave me a fifty-dollar bill, which surprised the hell out of me. He was being really cool.

I stuffed it into my purse,_ feeling_ like a pimp, like a boss. "I don't want your money…"

"Then give it back."

"No. It's mine now." I smiled.

He did, too, turning down my street. "You're a real character."

Ignoring him, my nose was practically up against the glass, but there were no other cars in the driveway except for Mom and Dad's. "No car…" I whispered.

My uncle didn't say a word as he left to get my bags out of the trunk.

"Kylie?" Mom poked her head out of the door. She was wearing a bathrobe.

"Did you guys get home last night?" I left the car, slamming the door. "Nobody tells me anything. I could have slept in my own bed."

Mom walked to meet me. "Uh…it was late."

"Where did you guys even go?" That was kept a secret.

Mom kissed my forehead. "Um…around."

I widened my arms in disbelief, and then Dad came out.

"Was she good? She behaved?" He slapped a hand to my uncle's.

"Yeah, because I'm six years old," I grumbled, leaving them to enter the house.

It looked exactly the way it did four days ago. Nothing was out of place, nor did I see a gift for me anywhere. Sad—because I was excited for a second—I trampled up to my bedroom to see if they left anything in there.

Nothing.

My bed wasn't made, my pajamas were still on the floor—

"Hey."

I internally jumped, hearing Damion. "What are you doing here?" It's Friday, and I thought he worked at the hospital six days a week. For someone who's supposedly crazy busy, it seems like my brother comes home a lot. He never visited this much before this term started, and he's always commenting about how third year is hell.

"I did my pre-rounds, and then came to visit." He shrugged. "I switched shit around. I work a full day Sunday. I'm not allowed to be here?"

"You've been coming home a lot more than usual."

He grinned. "The head of the department is Dad's friend, cuts me a lot of slack. Plus, Dad's on the board. If you ever wanted to ditch Texas, you and Peto could always go to NYU."

"What?" I asked.

"Pay me no attention. It's just...with Sonny having a baby and all, I thought...don't worry about it." He waved a hand. "He could probably get Gio accepted, too, is what I'm saying."

"I..." I didn't know what to say. "Oh...Is Amelia coming over?" I rolled my eyes. That would explain it, why he's home.

"Soon . . . we're all going to Sonny's."

"Of course you are." I threw myself onto my bed. "And I'm not invited." When I rolled over, he wasn't even in my room anymore. "Blah," I said without sound, sticking my tongue out.

Then I decided to just go to sleep, curling up with my phone and my blanket. Gio might call. I was tired. Instead of staying in the guest room last night, I'd fallen asleep next to Anthony while we watched a movie. My cousin is a wild sleeper—kept kicking me, and I'd kick him back.

But then, not even ten minutes had gone by, and Dad was in my doorway. "Catch."

Soaring through the air was a set of keys. Sadly, I didn't catch them—I've never been very coordinated, but I dove for them. Like an animal, some savage beast going for a slab of beef, I crawled to grab them, and then jump into the air.

Dad was laughing his ass off. "Come on, silly rabbit."

"I-fucking-knew it!" My voice was so deep and strained, I sounded like a monster.

"Excuse me?" Dad asked.

"Whatever!" I spat. "You use that word more than anyone else I know. Proper language for little girls, my ass!"

"Watch it."

"I'm not a baby, and Mom says it too."

He glared before he pushed me, gave me a nudge that made me stumble, but I knew it was playful.

"Stop!" I pushed him back, but he didn't go anywhere. "Where is it?"

"The garage." He led the way downstairs, and I was so excited I thought I might pee myself.

However, I was disappointed to see the hunk-of-junk parked there.

"Um… What is it?"

"A Honda Civic," Dad said.

I snorted. "You're kidding, right?"

Mom was already there, waiting for us, and they shared a look.

"There's rust." I showed them, just above the rear tire. "Plus, it's…like brown and old. You don't expect me to drive this, do you?" It was more of a punishment than a surprise.

Mom came toward me, but Dad stopped her to speak with me. "You don't know how to drive yet. This will be your learning tool. I was just going to take you around in mine, but I saw it and thought...It was cheap enough." He turned, shrugging to my mother. "I wasn't going to spend a bunch of money for you to wreck it. This is also a perfectly good car—"

"I don't want it. It's junk." I pointed. "I can't be seen—"

"You're a spoiled brat!" Mom nearly shouted. "We give you a car, and this is how you act?"

"But—"

"No. When I was eighteen, I lived on my own—I didn't have a car, and I would have loved this one. I went to school, held a job, paid rent, and my parents never gave me shit!" Mom looked pissed. "And this is how you show gratitude?"

"Well…" I was nervous because . . . Mom was yelling at me. "I—"

"I want your credit cards—all of them. Your allowance is gone."

"Bella—" Dad placed his hands on Mom's shoulders.

"For every hour you spend at that salon, you'll get nine dollars. From now on, you'll get a paycheck, and you can do with it what you will. You're not in school, so I also want one hundred dollars a week. That will cover your room and board here. You can eat with us—you're welcome to whatever's in the fridge, too." She nodded, looking proud of herself. "Every month, you'll pay for your cell phone as well."

I shook my head. "What?"

"Don't forget, taxes will be taken out of your check. Manage your money wisely."

"This car?" I pointed to it. "I, uh, I love it—"

"You're cut off! Until you can appreciate the value—until you can appreciate what _we give_ you, or realize just how lucky you are. You get nothing unless you earn it. You hear me, Kylie Marie?" She yanked on my ponytail.

"What?" I tried not to cry, tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

"I love you." She held my cheek, wearing a hint of a smile. "But you don't appreciate anything. You sit around this house, if you're not moping around the salon . . . You don't help me, you don't do anything, and you just expect the world to be handed to you."

I shook my head. "I'm thankful—"

"Then start showing it. When I can see your work ethic, when I can see how hard you'll work to gain the things we've given you, that's when you can have it all back." She turned to my father. "You've created a monster."

"Me?" He pointed to himself. "I've spoiled all our children—"

"The boys worked from when they were fifteen...No. We _never_ spoiled them." She scoffed.

Dad briefly looked to me, and then leaned down to Mom's ear. "We never had shit growing up...Why not, you know." I still heard his words, and I could see he was nervous. Mom was _that_ pissed.

"You know what? I'm not getting into this. I've asked her to stop it with the credit cards, the shopping...asked her to help around the house, and...I've made my decision. She needs to learn how to be responsible, how to manage her money, because...the free ride is over." She dust her hands off, going for the door, groaning before she disappeared.

I wiped the tears away from my cheeks.

"Uh…" Dad was still here. "On the nights I'm home early, we can take this baby for a spin." He slapped the hood and the bumper fell off. "Fuck."

I sobbed into my hands.

"Now _there's_ a dose of reality . . ." Damion commented from behind me.

I ignored him, still crying my eyes out.

"I'll get it fixed," Dad said. "You're not ready for a new car yet, and I thought this would be fun . . . This is just for practice. Your brothers went to driving school—took the course the high school gave. You decided not to…" He trailed off before continuing. "When you leave for Texas, I'll get you a different one—a newer, more reliable car, so I don't have to worry about you breaking down," he sighed, coming over to hold my cheeks. "I also…you and your brother are more than welcome," he tilted his head, so Damion could hear him as well, "to join us for the Halloween party. You can bring a friend . . . you'll be with your family, and you won't disappear, nor will you drink yourself sloppy like you did last week. Otherwise, it should be a fun night."

I didn't know whether to be happy, or even sadder. It's not like I have money to get a costume now, or a friend to invite. It's only a little over a week away. But then I tried to think of ways to get out of this—ways to get my allowance and credit cards back. Nothing came to mind. "Thanks." I sniffled.

On my way back to my bedroom, I passed Mom. She was in the kitchen, and I obviously had nothing to say to her.

When I tried to close my bedroom door, Damion stopped me. "Just leave me alone." I thought I'd head to the salon. It was still early, and I could make some extra money. Today was Nancy's last day for the week. She's going on a short cruise with her friend, and I could send her home early.

"Just…" Damion pushed me back and closed the door. "I'm here to help you."

"How?" I shouted. "This sucks—all because I hated that car."

"How much money do you have in your account? Your checking account?" he whispered.

I shrugged, picking up my phone to check. After typing in my log-in info, I started crying again. "$73 . . . and $50 in cash in my purse."

"Dad didn't give you money when he left?"

"I went shopping with Aunt Alex yesterday," I whispered. "I'm still not using my credit cards—Mom's being impatient with me. And you just saw . . . I pushed her over the edge." I plopped onto my bed. "Anyway, I burned through my cash. There was a sale—"

"Gimme a break, Ky. With you, there's always a sale. You don't need half the shit you buy. Amelia's the same way—always shopping, spending money. You guys are little princesses with Daddy's credit."

"Screw you." I bit my thumb at him.

"Oh no. Not the thumb." Damion smirked, reaching for my laptop.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Gimme a second. It doesn't matter how much money you have anyway." His fingers hit the keys rapidly. "This is a low, low blow, but fuck it." He chuckled. "I don't even know why I'm helping you."

"What?" I sniffled, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.

"Fuck it." He turned the laptop to show me. "Cheapest flight to Austin is $166 . . . You tell them you're leaving, and that you'll get a job. You don't need their money. You'll be fine without them—you're going to stay with Gio. They know they can't have it both ways. They can't say you'll be independent, while expecting you to still live by Dad's rules. You're eighteen."

My eyes widened. It was a dirty trick—a horrible threat, but it wasn't a bad idea at all, to really do it. "They probably won't pay my tuition—"

"They'll renege," he laughed. "Things'll go back to normal as long as you promise to cool it with the spending, do chores, help out. That's all Mom really wants. While we're at it, she's not your maid—"

"Says the man who brings his clothes home every week." I spat. "For _Mommy_ to wash them." I pushed him.

"I'm busy 'round the clock. Mom helps me out, so what? You don't do shit, and you still . . . don't do shit," he laughed.

"You're right. I can work—go to community college." I smiled. "Thank you." I wrapped my arms around him.

"No," he said. "You're not really going until February."

"Fuck it," I giggled, using his words. "I'll go now—surprise Gio."

Damion shook his head. "You threaten them. It's supposed to be idle—"

"No." I suddenly wanted to start packing. "Can I borrow some money? Just for—just to get me started?" I opened my closet for a suitcase.

"Gio lives in the dorms…you won't be able to just bunk with him forever." Damion hopped in front of me. "Fuck, Kylie…it's just a ruse."

"But!" I held up a finger. "It's a genius idea. Who knew flights were that cheap? Plus, if they want me to be independent—like you said—I'll _be_ independent." I squealed. "Just Gio and me…no rules, privacy…" I was giddy, just with the thought.

"Do what you want . . ." He backed away from me. "If you really wanna leave with Mom being mad at you . . . Also, Dad'll be so pissed at Mom—because of what she did, because what she said was the catalyst behind you leaving . . . _Dad _might just leave."

"What?" I asked.

"That's what happens after they have huge fights. Dad leaves, Mom cries . . . but hey, you do what you want."

I slumped my shoulders. "No…"

"Yes." He nodded. "If you really leave…" He chuckled darkly. "Sonny and Katie don't exactly have good news to tell them later either."

"What's wrong? Is it the baby?" I was in tears again.

Damion shrugged, walking out of my bedroom. "What do you care? You're leaving . . ."

"Hey!"

"Good luck to you." He was being so cold.

"Damion, wait!"

He turned around. "It's supposed to be an empty threat. Don't go for real."

I nodded, letting my suitcase fall to the floor.

In all honesty, I'd vowed days ago to make the most of the time I had left with my family. Gio's my boyfriend, and that's not changing. Soon, we'll see each other every day, and I won't see my family for months at a time. "You really think—"

"I know." He pointed to his temple. "Wait it out. You'll be in Austin before you know it."

After he left, I sat in bed waiting—waiting for Mom to come and apologize, waiting for Dad to come in and say Mom was full of shit.

None of those things happened.

I called Gio and we talked for a while, which made me feel better. We set a Skype date for later on.

I tried on all my shoes.

I made my stupid bed.

I surfed for gay porn . . .

And I forgot that I had the volume as high as it could go.

When some dude moaned, it scared the crap out of me, and I hoped no one heard it.

And none of those things cheered me up.

When a few hours had passed, I gathered all the courage I had and went into the kitchen. Mom was making grilled cheese for lunch since it was so late. Dad sat at the table drinking coffee with Damion, and I stood there—heart in my throat, dry tears still staining my cheeks . . . I made myself cry again for dramatic effect, but I was still really nervous.

"Ca-can I talk to you guys for a minute?" I whispered.

Mom waved the spatula, indicating I could, and Dad turned in his seat.

Damion raised a brow encouraging me, showing his moral support.

Keeping my head up, I kept looking to Mom and then Dad. "I've decided . . . what with being independent and all—and I really wanna thank you both for being so generous all my life. But Mom's right . . . I should make my own money, be responsible . . ."

"It's really for your own good," Mom said. "Money doesn't grow on trees, and soon…your father and I won't be around to help you with everything, or give you whatever you want because you want it. You have to—_have to_—work for things. When you go to school, we'll set up an account for you. You'll have a credit card for _emergencies_ only. Most children learn a lot earlier . . . you can't always get what you want, like that." She snapped her fingers. "You need to learn how to be an adult before you leave this house—learn responsibility. You keep saying and reminding us about how grown you are, but you still act like a petulant child when you hear the word no...and I can go on, but I won't."

"I know." I nodded. "And I hate that I'm this leech . . . that you guys, like, hate me."

"What's not true." Mom and Dad said in unison.

I kept going. "I mean, I can get a job, stay with Gio until school starts—"

"Whoa!" Dad held up a finger.

"Can I finish? Please?" I swallowed.

"Let her talk," Mom whispered.

"I know you'll hate me even more. I know you might not pay my tuition, and that's okay. I'll work until spring semester starts. I can pay my own way. I can—I can start my life."

Dad's leg was shaking, and I didn't know what that meant, but then Mom spoke up. "First of all, we don't hate you. We could never hate you. We love you very much, but . . . if you think that's best."

I felt like someone stabbed me in the stomach. "What?"

She shrugged. "You're absolutely correct. You're of age. You have your own life to live—"

"Fuck that!" Dad shouted.

"Edward." Mom had a tone.

"I can afford my own flight—I can get there on my own. You know?" I nervously bit my lip. "That's all . . . I'll pack and leave tomorrow. Don't try and stop me."

When neither one had anything to say, I went back into my bedroom.

That was when the shouting started. Dad couldn't believe Mom—that she'd give me her blessing so quickly. Damion never said a word, and my parents continued to argue back and forth.

It happened just like Damion said.

They screamed at each other. Mom was actually on my side—saying all of this would be good for me, that I'd grow up, but – as my parents – they'd still be here for me. I needed to spread my wings. They'd pay my tuition anyway.

Then Mom said something about how she'd grown up—being tossed into the world with nothing thrust her into adulthood a lot faster, only I wouldn't starve.

Dad was just so pissed . . . screaming a bunch of things at the top of his lungs . . .

That's when Damion started shouting—telling Dad to let Mom go.

And I didn't know what was happening, until—until I heard Dad's tires screeching.

He left.

And I hadn't gone anywhere yet.

Damion was so wrong; meanwhile, it was a genius plan. I really thought they'd beg me to stay, take back what happened, and things would go back to normal.

When Damion knocked on my door, I ignored him—covering myself with my blanket, my phone forgotten.

When Mom pleaded for me to open the door, I thought about it—but I was half-asleep already, tears still falling from my eyes, and nothing she could say would take away the guilt I felt.

Either way, I knew I wasn't going anywhere—Texas or otherwise—for a while.

I stayed in bed.

When I finally woke up, it was almost dark outside.

Looking out the window, I saw Vito parked by the curb—his nephew Salvatore, who's around when more security is needed, was in the passenger side.

That's when I knew no one was home.

The house was very quiet, eerily so—Damion, Mom, Dad—all of them gone. Meanwhile, I could probably count on one hand how many times I'd been left alone.

Wary, I sent Damion a text massage, even if I was a little pissed at him—asking where everyone was. Gio had called me three times, and I sent him a text—saying I was fine but not very talkative, which is unheard of.

After brushing my teeth, I went to the garage to throw some towels into the wash before I cleaned up the kitchen. I did a quick once over, and then straightened up as I went downstairs.

By the time the towels were clean and ready for the dryer, I saw Damion had messaged me back.

_We're all at Sonny's, even Dad. No worries—D _

Are Mom and Dad speaking? I asked, hitting send.

_Yes—D _

I blew out a breath and took the piece of paper I had found in the kitchen out of my pocket. For some reason, I was scared to read it when I woke up. It was a note from Mom, saying there weren't any leftovers but there were Hot Pockets and stuff in the freezer. Since I wasn't hungry, I decided to watch TV.

Flipping through the channels for nearly an hour and finding nothing, I was surprised—and a bit delighted—to see Maggie in our backyard.

"Can't you take a hint?" I asked her.

She turned, jumping. I'd scared her. "I just—"

"He has a girlfriend," I said. "And . . . you're a bit young."

"He has a girlfriend?" She frowned.

I nodded. "Wanna come inside?"

"Okay." She was literally bundled from head-to-toe, not showing a sliver of skin, and it wasn't even cold out.

"Do your parents dress you like that?" It was like…a Walmart sweat suit or something.

"My mom buys my clothes, so yeah." She plucked her sweater.

"You don't shop for yourself?" I plopped down onto the couch again. "Sit."

Maggie complied, sitting next to me.

"I mean, no offense, but you live on this block . . . these houses are all worth millions. What does your dad do?"

"Our house has been in my mother's family for decades. But, um, my father's a teacher at Brooklyn Tech and he's a deacon at Saint Anselm."

"And your mom?" I asked.

"She's a homemaker." She still wore a frown.

"Are you sad about Damion?" I scrunched my nose.

"No...I don't know. I know I shouldn't be since I don't know him, but...I just poke my head in your backyard to see if he's there."

"He's no one—the last fucker on the planet you should cry over." I thought it was funny, while I also felt bad for her. "You wanna see his room? You can spit on his pillow. That makes me feel better."

Second, I thought, from getting stray cat shit from the yard and putting it in his bed—I've done that to Sonny, too. My brothers think they're so slick, but they scream like girls when they find my surprises.

She giggled. "That's gross."

I shrugged. "You wanna?"

She shook her head no. "I just—that night we hung out? I had the best time ever. He saw me—I was a woman, and no other boy has ever, um, boys don't talk to me. And he said he liked me. I really thought he did. Maybe I'm just boy crazy...like, I want one, not necessarily him, though. Heck, if I know." She tapped her forehead.

"First off, when a guy says, 'I like you', it just means you're cool to hang around, which is likely what he meant. He didn't mean he_ liked_ you, liked you."

"Oh."

I pulled on her sweater. "You got a hot bod under there, and no one can see it. You wanna be seen as a lady? Then dress like one, become one. I'm not saying to dress like a whore, but…guys see even a little skin and think sex."

"My parents—"

"Will get over it." I nodded. "Honestly. People say—you're going to be a nun?"

She sighed. "I don't know anymore."

"Because of Damion?"

"Because I'm eighteen and there's plenty of things—things to think about and consider." She sounded exasperated. "To make a choice now . . . I thought that was what I wanted, but it was really what my parents wanted. I just can't do it. But I have a full ride to Saint Mary's. And all the stuff I love doing for the church? I can still do it without becoming a nun."

"I thought you were seventeen?" I asked.

"My birthday was yesterday." She shrugged.

"Excellent." I rubbed my hands together. "You know what you need?"

"What?"

"A friend . . . I need a friend, too."

"You and me?" She waved a finger.

I snorted. "No, the girl behind you." When she turned, I stopped her. "Yes, you. I'm already with someone. But we can find you a man. That'll be our plan. Operation: Find Maggie a boyfriend. Or, Operation: Lose Maggie's V-Card," I giggled.

"Um… V-Card?"

"Your virginity," I clarified.

She blushed. "That's another thing about being a nun. I get all these sexual thoughts...There's something wrong with me."

"You're human!" I exclaimed, shocked by her admission. "My God...seriously. It's normal to be horny and shit. But...forget about Damion." I shook her. "Forget about the stupid boys at Bishop Ford."

She laughed, nodding her head.

"There's a Halloween party. My dad's throwing it. You should come with me. He said I could bring a friend. We can be fairies!" I got excited. "We can go shopping. I have a little bit of money . . . Do you have a credit card?"

"No," she whispered.

"When do you get allowance?"

"I got it today—"

"Oh, wait. How much did you make off your birthday?" I asked.

"Nothing. I got a gift card to Barnes & Noble's."

"Okay . . . how much do you have? I need to know what we can work with. We can shop tomorrow when you get out of school. I work on 86th Street. We can shop there on my break."

"Um…twenty-dollars. If I don't each lunch tomorrow, twenty-five."

"That's it?" My face fell.

"What do I really need?" She gave me some odd look. "I live at home, my mom cooks, and I go to school."

"Oh." Now my face had fallen. "You probably see me as this spoiled, rich brat."

"Yeah."

I honestly liked that she was so truthful.

"Okay." I smirked. "I have enough—for the both of us. You're eighteen, allowed to party but not old enough to drink. My mom will also be thrilled we're hanging out. You'll be a good influence, while I try to corrupt you."

"Um…corrupt me?" She raised a brow.

"Step one: tomorrow, when you're on your way to school, roll up your skirt—just above your knees," I giggled. "Do it at the bus stop, leave two buttons open on your uniform shirt . . . guys'll notice."

"That goes against the rules—"

"It doesn't when you're _not_ in school—to and from." I nodded. "Come on." I grabbed her hand, dragging her upstairs with me. "I have fishnets—you can wear them under the kilt, but you have to take them off when you get to school. When that last bell rings, you follow the throngs of sluts going to the bathrooms. You put them back on."

"Kylie—" She stopped me, taking a look around the house. "This place is huge."

I waved a hand. "My room's this way."

"Is your other brother home?"

I smiled. "You _are_ a horn dog, aren't you?"

"I was just curious. I saw him for the first time in a long time weeks back...I gave him a note to give to Damion. That's all. He's...yeah, he's handsome." Her cheeks were red again and her face lit up.

I stuck my tongue out. "They're not _un_fortunate looking, but they both have chicks. You don't want either of them anyway. They're dogs."

"I don't _want_ them. I was just curious...The both of them are very nice to look at, though," she giggled, and so did I. Maggie was funny.

Then I had another brilliant idea. "Do you need a job?"

"Huh?" She sounded confused, still looking every which way. "Who are those guys outside? Why are there always men outside your house?"

We'd stopped in the hall near my bedroom. "Your parents don't gossip about mine?"

She shook her head. "That's not Christian. My parents don't gossip at all. Mom says your father is very generous. He gives a lot of money to the church, and she loves your mom's lasagna recipe."

"Oh…" I found it odd, unless she was pretending, that she didn't know who my father was. "You don't know anything about my family—nothing?"

"Um…I know Santino lives on Fourth Avenue. I've seen him go in and out of an apartment building while I was waiting for the bus. But I honestly forgot that _he_ was your brother until I saw him that day."

"Do you just stalk random hot guys?" I laughed.

Her eyes widened. "I just noticed...I'm at that bus stop every day."

"Oh...what else do you know about us?"

"Damion," she smiled when she said his name, "I remember seeing him all the time when he lived here, but I was really little back then. Um…your dad owns clubs? I don't know much besides what I've seen or heard."

"Okay." I nodded. "How long have you been crushing on Damion?"

She let out a gust of breath. "He's dreamy and sweet—"

"And a total butthead. Get him out of your head."

"I know." She groaned, holding her face. "Will he be at this Halloween party? I don't know if I'll be allowed to go—"

"Say you're staying at a friend's house—say we're going to my _cousin's_ Halloween party. I can call your mom and pretend to me mine." I smiled. "I sound just like her. It works like a charm."

"Will he be there?"

I nodded. "His girlfriend probably will, too."

"Is she pretty?" she asked.

"Very, but you're pretty, too. And you have this hot bod under your layers of clothes..." I felt bad for her. "You're skinnier than Amelia, though." I thought that might make her feel better as I entered my bedroom. "Let's order pizza, and then we'll watch TV." I grabbed my phone to call Vito, and that was when I realized how lazy, how catered to, I truly was. Then again, I didn't have the number for the pizzeria that gives us free pizza.

"Okay," Maggie agreed. "I love pizza."

"Me, too." I placed my phone to my ear. Vito was more than happy to send Sal for a pie.

"Can I use your phone?" she asked as I ended the call.

"You don't have a cell phone?" I frowned.

She shook her head. "I can just run back and tell her . . ."

"No, here." I handed her my cell, showing her how to use it, and . . . I guess I just thought everyone had a cell phone. Maggie was short with her mom, just telling her where she was, and that she'd be home later on. "Do you always have to check-in?"

"Always." She groaned. "But I told my mom I was going to confession when I left earlier."

"Confess to me." I sat on my bed and she followed. "Tell me all your sins," I giggled madly.

She did, too. "Besides lusting—having impure thoughts . . . Oh, I took the Lord's name in vain many times."

And she was serious.

I did the Sign of the Cross over her. "You're forgiven. Those are bullshit sins by the way. I used to lie . . ." I got up to go through my closet. "Let's dress you up."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it's fun." I shook my head, and saw the hair dye I bought a few months ago. "Wanna dye my hair?"

"What color?"

My hair is very dark, and I bet it doesn't even come out. "It's red—will probably wash out in a week."

"That's good. In case you don't like it and stuff."

"I can paint your toes . . ." I was over-excited, having a girl to do girl things with. "Your nails . . . Tomorrow, too, we'll go get manicures. The nail salon next to the tanning salon does my nails for free. Oh, did you want a job? A few hours a day after school." Having a buddy might make the time go by faster. "It's seven-fifty an hour, and there's not much to it." Nancy was on vacation for the next week and a half. "It'll be part-time and then per-diem."

"Okay. Cool," she giggled. "Maybe I can get a tan."

I nodded, going back to the bed with the box of dye. "How do you think I stay sun-kissed when there's no sun? You don't want to over do it, then you turn orange." I scrunched my nose. "Stick with me and by the end of the week, I'll have turned you into a total babe. You'll be sexy as hell, dude!"

She nodded. "Turn me into a babe, someone guys'll like."

"Yes!" I fist pumped the air. "We'll get you a boyfriend soon enough."

She still looked sad. "Do you think Damion—"

"Forget about my brother. He has a girlfriend he can't tear his eyes away from, but yes. I bet he'll notice."

Maggie grinned. "Then I'm game—I trust you."

"Excellent." I reached out and hugged her neck.

**/=/=/=/=/**

**EDWARD**

**/=/=/=/=/**

When I arrived at Sonny's, I was still in a very pissy mood. I couldn't believe Kylie, or even worse Bella—to just say it was okay for Kylie to leave. I knew Kylie was fucking around, calling our bluff to get her credit cards back.

For all I know, Damion planted that seed because he's still pissed at me—_my bad seed_ was causing trouble . . . again.

But honestly, it's just money—and there's no shortage around here. Why Bella has to try and teach her now, after all these years of spoiling our daughter, is beyond me. It made absolutely no sense, and she was pushing our daughter away.

Plus, I also hated myself—losing my temper and grabbing Bella like I did.

Especially in front of Damion.

If he hated me before . . .

Throughout the years, we'd always have it out in private, never around the kids. While they're adults now, I'd still rather they never saw that side of me—the side of me that just fucking loses it and puts my hands on my wife.

Bella cried.

Damion looked like he wanted to kill me.

And I just left . . .

It was one of those times where I wished Sonny was home. Things would have never escalated the way they did, or he would have knocked me out before I even reached his mother.

It was too late, but I sought him out anyway.

Sonny was busy cooking when I got to the apartment, while Katie was...I don't know what she was doing. I watched TV and nearly drank a bottle of scotch until Aro and Lisa showed up. He calmed me down, speaking of inane garbage, and trying to get me excited about the baby. We'd look over at Katie and smile.

Still, the unhappy couple wouldn't announce anything until everyone was here. We were only waiting on Lauren and Bella.

When my wife arrived with Damion and Amelia, I pulled Bella into the bedroom. I apologized, and like she's done many times before, she forgave me. Then she told me some bullshit Damion had said to her—it was all a ruse. Kylie wasn't going anywhere, which was something Bella knew—had the suspicion of from the get-go, and why she went along with it all.

After we all sat down to eat, I kept glancing over to Damion. His gaze would fall back on me, ice-cold. He couldn't let go of the way I'd treated his mother, or anything else . . . and that was fine. If he forgave me as fast as Bella, then I'd find that weird.

While we ate—Sonny had made roasted chicken and potatoes—talking stayed at a minimum. There were sides galore, and Bella stopped at the bakery, picking up a nice chocolate cake for dessert.

"She's not going anywhere. Get that look off your face," Bella whispered to me.

I leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are, but stop pouting."

I nodded, stuffing my face with chicken, the guilt still close to eating me alive. "After being away—where we had so much fun…"

"I know." Bella frowned.

We did just get in the car and drive. We wound up in Plattsburgh—our secret get-away, and we fucked all weekend. It was just us—a glimpse of what was sure to come once our house was empty. Just Bella and me . . .

"I love you." I placed my hand on her thigh.

"I love you, too."

Curious, I lifted her sleeve. She was wearing a short-sleeved sweater with this tight pencil skirt. She looked hot, and had my handprint on her bicep.

"Leave it alone." She didn't look at me, but pulled her sleeve down.

Maybe she hadn't forgiven me, maybe this was just a show for everyone else at the table . . . I didn't know, but I still felt like shit.

"Okay." Sonny put his fork down, turning to look at Katie. "The reason we asked you all over today . . ."

He went on to tell us that things just weren't working out between them. It came as a shock to Bella, Lauren, Lisa—it basically and practically brought the females at the table to tears.

We were all rooting for them, every last one of us.

Most thought—while I hoped—they'd live happily ever after, with a baby to boot.

But when Sonny spoke to me at Eclipse that one night, I knew it was coming.

They apologized to everyone, although I had no idea why.

Sometimes . . . things just don't work out.

They explained that they'd live separately but would raise the child together. They'd have joint custody.

That was when everyone fired off question after question.

Bella wanted them to give it more time. Rome wasn't built in a day. Hell, God couldn't even create the earth in one either. Supposedly, they needed more time.

But I knew the real reasons and so did Aro.

Katie couldn't be married to a made guy—a man affiliated with us in any way. Sonny told me that bullshit, too.

But to be honest, if Bella wasn't interested in hearing about my work, I'd never—ever—bring it up. If Sonny never spoke about it, Katie would be none-the-wiser, but she knows too much—from growing up with Aro as her father.

The love Katie and Sonny still have for each other hadn't gone anywhere, I guess. Circumstances are keeping them apart? Keeping them from being together?

After dinner, Sonny pulled me over to the side. He had something to ask me. My son wanted to know if he could buy out the old lady who lives downstairs. He wanted Katie to have that apartment—they could still be close.

I told him to go for it, knowing Bella will be pleased having Sonny, Katie, and the baby within walking distance. Sonny would pay their rent, too, if Katie allowed him. Sonny's hellbent on actually raising this child together—not just alternating weekends.

That's when I spoke up. "But…if you're _not_ with Katie, I mean, I'm sure you'll find someone else," I whispered. "You know what I mean?"

"I do," he said. "And that's something I'll—we'll figure out as we go. That's the last thing on my mind."

"Okay." I nodded. "This shit didn't work out. That doesn't mean your life stops. You'll have a kid—so what. You still need to do you." And I was speaking to him as a father and a friend.

"I know that." He was incredibly sad-looking. "Maybe after the baby's born…maybe she'll want me."

"Come here." I pulled him into my arms, and hugged him tightly.

"Dad, I tried everything."

"I know . . . Sometimes…things just don't work out." I rubbed his back.

"I'm willing to change everything."

"I know," I sighed. "What if—" I stopped talking.

"What?" He leaned away. Sonny wasn't even crying; meanwhile, I thought he was. That's why I grew even more concerned.

"Um . . . What if you…took a break for a while. You weren't—involved?" First and foremost, he's my son—not an associate, not head of a crew—my fucking son.

"We can break the rules. What's the point of being the boss if I can't bend my own?" Lord knew I bent enough for Damion, and he doesn't even have his button.

"What are you getting at?" he asked.

I held my forehead. "We'd keep it a secret—say you're doing your own thing from afar . . . you leave Brooklyn behind." By now, he knew what I was getting at.

Sonny was quiet for a few minutes. "Go on the run? Stay in the cut and live quietly? The Skip's son _skipping_ town?" He spat, disgusted. "All the shit I know...everyone would want me dead. You and Aro, too, for allowing such a thing. They'd stage a coup, and then when it's all done, Caius would be boss."

"Or Jasper," I laughed. "You're getting very ahead of yourself, and I don't want you to worry about who'd be anything. We'd keep it on the hush, but yes—even _I_ couldn't guarantee your safety. If certain people found out..." I nodded, solemnly. "There's a chance they'd never know, though..._if_ you came back on occasions." I placed my hand on his arm. "I never wanted this life for you anyway, but..."

"You'd risk...so much...everything, just for—"

"You're happiness." I nodded. "In a heartbeat. When your daughter is born, you'll understand."

"No."

"No?" I cocked a brow. "I thought you'd do anything—"

He looked into my eyes. "Anything but that. I took an oath. I'm in this until death."

I respected that. "But you'd have your freedom—no more bullshit. You could have Katie and the baby, and…a house in the country somewhere."

"I just can't do it. I can give up Eclipse, the women, the—anything I'd do that would keep me out late. But I won't break the vow I made. I won't—" He brought his voice down. "I won't put everyone in danger for some selfish cooz." His gaze was hate-filled suddenly. "I'd have to question her, her love, if she even accepted that!"

"Relax," I whispered.

"She brought it up once...She just might." He gritted his teeth. "Just to get what she wanted...How can I love someone like that?" He held his face. "And she's not that selfish...has a good heart and can be caring...I just—I can't. This is what I'm saying...the Katie I knew, the Katie_ I fell in love with_, would never. I don't know this new person. She says I've changed...I think I'm the same. She's just different."

"Look, I'd respect any decision you'd make. I never forced you to do anything, and I'm not forcing you now."

"No," he said, looking in the mirror. "Shit is what it is. Katie can get with the program, give us a shot, or we'll stick to the plans we have now."

I hummed, just standing there. "How's Layla working out?" I hadn't been to the club in nearly a week, and I knew we had a new manager.

"She catches on quick—she's doing well. Her attire is all wrong. She stays looking like she's going to a school assembly. Plus, she put all the money I gave her away. I told her I'd take her shopping—I'll take the money out of her pay. She's doing wonderful. She just doesn't look the part. Maybe I'll ask Kylie to come with us."

"Cool," I sighed. "At least that's out of the way. You still studying for the bar?" His books, the practice tests were on his chest of drawers.

He nodded, taking off his shirt. Just like me, he's comfortable in a tank, but this isn't my house. In fact, I was dying to go home and undo my pants—stuffed from dinner. "Yeah…Unc says I'll have a corner office. When the time comes, he'll throw some clientele my way, too."

"Good. What about Eclipse?" I asked.

"I'll still take care of it . . . no worries on your end. With Layla, all I'd have to do is keep an eye on the books."

"I can chill there a few nights a week, too; I already do," I said.

He still wore a long face.

"Hey . . . maybe you need to go out—get a blow job. You and Katie still…" I trailed off, knowing my son is happier when his shit is greased regularly—it clears his mind.

He shook his head. "She's not even interested," he laughed. "All this was because we couldn't stop fucking around… We're trying to draw lines and stick to them."

"Right…that's a smart idea."

"Amelia have any sisters?" he asked.

I chuckled. "Her siblings are a lot younger. You know that."

He groaned. "I'll have to start dating again—actually dating. The thought of going back to the way I was…I realize that, that I want someone, need someone in my corner."

"Right, but how's that going to work with Katie and your daughter a floor below you?"

He shrugged. "Fuck if I know. But it's reality. Same as…I'll have to get used to her dating when she's up to it."

I sat on his bed, thinking his words very mature. "There's no giving it some more time?" It was still terribly heartbreaking. I felt mine was broken right along with his.

"It's been a month. A fucking month. She won't—just forget it. I'm honestly tired of discussing this." He shrugged with this look in his eyes as he went for his closet.

I was quiet as he picked out a suit and a shirt. "Where you going?" I asked.

"The club. Tonight is Layla's first night handling shit on her own. I just—I wanna make sure she's okay. I'll just have a drink with the guys."

"I'm sure she's fine. She would've called you . . . You want me to go?" Hiding there didn't sound like a bad idea. "Maybe you spend too much time there?" When Bella and I were first married, Eclipse seemed to be the source of a few of our problems. "Maybe if you didn't—"

"Please...just stop with the solutions. I've thought of everything. We've spoken about everything...She loves me, but can't accept my lifestyle. She'll fuck me, but she won't marry me." He pulled on his hair. "Get it now?"

I put my hands up in surrender. "Damion shows up again, you kick his ass out. He's not allowed to be there unless I am."

Sonny laughed, buttoning his shirt. "I don't even wanna know. He won't tell me what you two discussed…just says…forget it."

"What?" I was amused. "What'd that fucker say?"

"You're cold—a dick. I told him he didn't have the slightest clue as to who you truly are."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"I told him that you_ can_ be detached. . . but, you know. He's incredibly cunty for someone with balls the size of Texas—lemme tell you. I told him he couldn't have it both ways—give you the _cold_ shoulder while expecting you to be warm…coddling?"

"Right." I still didn't know what my best course of action was.

What I wanted to do was have Damion put the sweat and work into moving up, without him actually doing so. Sonny went through it and survived...starting as a low-man, a grunt, a nobody.

It's kind of like what Bella wants to do with Kylie.

Like it often happens, hours later, I finally understood my wife's reasoning.

Damion thinks he can do whatever he wants with no consequences. He doesn't respect what I do, thinks it's all a game.

Something inside of _me _snapped when I found out what Damion pulled that night . . . his nine, on not only Aro and Caius, but Sonny—and in front of Amelia? Plus, the way it was described to me, nothing happened for him to act so irrationally. He was knocked out, and then hopped up with his heat in his hands. It could have been the blow to the head. I've woken up all disoriented before.

But while a part of me can understand and sympathize, it still doesn't excuse his actions.

Having the last name Cullen does not give him a license to kill; it doesn't mean the laws don't apply to him. If he wants it, he has to earn it.

I worked my way up, did what I had to do to gain the respect, the title I have now.

Same with Sonny.

Who the _fuck_ did Damion think he was?

Sure, I fucked with his head. Most of what I said—they _weren't_ lies—but they didn't need to be uttered. My whole act was done purposely to get a rise out of Damion—to see how he'd handle it.

Meanwhile, he never truly spoke out of turn or lost his temper, which leads me to believe that Bella's words ring true: Damion does fear me, although he tries not to show it.

All I did was embrace that dark side of myself—the part of myself that Damion inherited. I acted like he does; disregard for others, lying, fucking with people's emotions.

It's true; I do that shit on a daily basis, but never with my kids . . . unless it's done in a positive manner. Like, when Kylie asks me if she looks fat, and I go into a spiel about how beautiful she is, how she needs more self-confidence—although that's not true. My daughter is very confident, gorgeous, and she knows exactly who she is, and that she's not overweight. She's not a stick figure, she just fishes for compliments—digs attention, but that's a separate beast altogether.

Either way, you can't drive without a permit—a license—and you can't gain those without doing some driving—learning. While I teach Kylie how to actually operate a vehicle, Damion was going to learn how the thing truly works.

He needs to know the rules.

I also feel like . . . after this exercise is over, he might still choose to walk away, have no part of it. Of course, I was going to do whatever I could to make him miserable along the way, and make sure he'd still be able to…_walk_ away. Things that he'll see won't be unseen and that whole mess.

And lastly, I wanted my son to know me. I realize that I know a lot more about him than I give myself credit for.

But he has no idea who I am . . .

"I think—" Sonny paused, changing into slacks. "What if you did coddle him?"

I rolled my eyes. "Your mother's been doing that his whole life."

"You," he said.

"And I kind of do, too. I'm soft—you see the way I am with him."

"Give it time." He threw my words back at me. "Little by little, maybe he'll open up. If, in your words, being warm isn't working, don't fawn over him. Be the Skip. Fuck him. Who does he think he is anyway?"

"Huh…" I mused; however, that was my original plan.

"Damion's so fucking lucky." Sonny shook his head. "Makes me regret all the times Mom set me up, and I just…" he sighed. "They were probably great girls."

"Caius wants to hook you up with his daughter."

"And have that fucker in my face more than he is now?"

"You don't like him," I assessed.

"He's thirsty...power hungry." Sonny stared at me, biting his lower lip. "Give me your blessing."

"What has he done besides piss you off?" I chuckled.

"He's going to turn on you one day . . . I'm just trying to be proactive."

I nodded, wearing a smile. "Then someone else moves up, gets close, and you'll have the same problem again, and again, and then they'll be no one left." I widened my arms. "I'll always have that problem, which is why my guard is always up and my eyes are always open. I know Caius . . . I know how he thinks, how to keep him content. The hell you know is better than the one you don't. Trust."

"I'd feel better if—"

I put my hand up to stop him, wanting to change the subject. "I never asked . . . How'd that go? Dropping Shorty off that one night?" Now that shit . . . I just did to fuck with Dame, something to give him a push to stake his claim. He knows those rules . . . No woman is truly off-limits until you put a ring on 'em.

"Fine. Luke wasn't even home. Elena was…but Amelia was fast to run into her bedroom. I apologized to Elena—said they got into a fight. Amelia just wanted to call Dame or something—"

"How was the ride, though?" I inquired, keeping my tone hushed. "She okay? Dame treating her all right?"

"She loves him." He shrugged. "She's blinded by love . . . I bet he treats her decently," he said his words slowly, thinking them out. "But even if he didn't, she wouldn't open her mouth." His lips pulled up into a smirk. "Amelia—"

"Stop." To me, it was only a game, but I didn't think I'd create a monster. "She's Dame's. You know that. You didn't make a play for her, did you?"

He raised a brow. "I could have . . . If I wanted to, I could have snatched that up before he even met her." He plopped down next to me. "I'm just being real about it . . . She's attracted to me—that I know. Some shit you just know, but no. I wouldn't do that to him. That doesn't stop me from thinking him lucky . . . Does it make me a dick because I'm jealous? But not so much because of who she is, but because of how_ compliant_ she is?" He held his head, laughing at himself.

I didn't have any comments. "Maybe Katie—"

He groaned. "Again . . . Katie and I are two completely different people now, and that's all it comes down to." He left the bed to grab his shoes.

"Okay. Maybe Amelia has friends?" I raised a brow.

"That are just like her? Yeah, right."

I laughed. "Don't go down that road. Your brother got lucky…don't be jealous, or go for his girl just because you're miserable."

"I'd never. What the fuck? I _just_ said—"

"Relax…I've just—" Rather than get into a history lesson, I stood up. "We'll talk more this week." I kissed his cheek.

"What about Mom?…She's—"

"She's upset, but she'll deal," I said.

"Right."

I left his bedroom.

Bella served me a slice of cake when I went back into the dining room, but I declined. I was too full, too aggravated and disappointed—even chocolate cake couldn't make me feel better.

After saying goodbye to everyone, Bella and I left. She wasn't happy about it, but came with me anyway. It's not like she was being warm to Katie and Lauren—practically ignored them the whole dinner, only conversing with Amelia, and, surprisingly, Lisa.

Dame and Amelia stayed behind, and I said I'd send the car back for them.

"We couldn't even stay for dessert?" she asked, once we were settled in the car.

I told Vinny, my new driver, to drive. "I just…I wanted to leave." I held Bella's leg close to me. "_Sonny_ wasn't even staying for dessert."

"_You_ could have left—_that's what you're good at_—and _I_ could have stayed." She nodded, acting all distant.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper."

"It's not about you losing your temper. Leaving like that?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "We promised each other ages ago—we wouldn't do it, and every time you do it, you swear it's the last time." She turned to face me, getting really close. "Don't make me regret saying this."

I pecked her lips; she was right there.

"The next time you leave? Stay gone."

"Bella!" I exclaimed.

She turned, tears welling up in her eyes. "I put up with a lot of shit—"

"I know you do." I turned her to face me, grasping that chin. "You act like I took off with some broad—left the country. Where did I go? I chilled on Sonny's couch until you got there."

"Still." She pouted.

"Well, fuck you…" I didn't know what to say. "You're stuck with me." I yanked her into my side. "I may go, which is usually for the better, so I don't do some ol' wild shit . . . it's preventative. Sometimes I need time to cool off. But I'll _always_ come back."

She giggled, which was like music to my ears. "I love you."

"I know." I kissed her hair. "Love you, too."

"But—just stop." She dug her finger into my side, and I winced.

"Shit. You stop that," I laughed.

She hummed, and we didn't really need a driver. We were already in front of the house. "Kylie wouldn't talk to me."

"She's not going anywhere either—until the spring," I said, opening the door and taking Bella's hand.

"She just wanted her credit cards back."

"Have you even taken them from her yet?" I snorted, holding her hip as we strolled up the walkway.

"No, not yet," she sighed. "Baby girl needed a wake-up call—that's all. I think the Honda is cute."

I took out my keys to open the door. "It's a piece-of-shit worth pocket change. Let her wreck and scratch that one."

"If it works, let her keep it." Bella shrugged, entering the house.

"After buying Sonny a Lexus for his graduation? Sending Damion to Europe? That's not fair. Sure, she gets a lot more in general, but . . ."

_I _wanted to buy Kylie a kickass whip. I like spending money, too. We came across the Honda on Craigslist. It was my intention to get her a car that was crappy—it has a purpose—but it's only temporary. I didn't expect the wife to go nuts. Yet, I knew Kylie was going to hate it—wouldn't want it.

Bella didn't say anything, going up the stairs.

"Kylie would look cute in a Mini Cooper."

My wife giggled. "True. But as fashionable as she is . . . She'll want a gas-guzzler because she thinks everyone in Texas drives a pick-up."

"She'll love _whatever_ we give her now." I pulled her into my arms, swaying us. "We're really okay?"

She nodded, resting her head against my chest.

I took her hand and spun her around. "What if she was serious?" I kept my voice down, hearing Kylie's giggles down the hall.

"Trust me…she wasn't, but who's here?" Bella left for down the hall, and I followed after. "Kylie?" She knocked.

"Come in!"

Bella opened the door. We saw Kylie and Maggie laughing at something they were looking at on the laptop.

"Maggie…?" Bella looked surprised.

"Um…I invited her in. I hope that's okay." Kylie left the bed to come to the doorway.

"It's fine." Bella nodded. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm well, Mrs. Cullen. How are you?"

"Good, good." My wife looked back to me.

"Um." Kylie started, dancing from foot-to-foot. "I'm sorry." Her voice was hushed. "I'm not going anywhere—I washed towels, and I promise to do more."

"Okay." Bella kissed her forehead. "Thank you . . . we'll talk more about everything else tomorrow—when you don't have a guest."

Kylie reached behind herself. "Maggie says she doesn't wanna mess up my hair. Can you do it?" She held a box out to Bella.

"No." She reached for Kylie's hair. "It's gorgeous. You'll ruin it."

Kylie shrugged. "Whatever . . . Wanna say hi to Gio?" Our daughter seemed just fine, random and energetic, happy-go-lucky, and it made me smile.

Maggie handed her the laptop. Gio and another boy were on the screen. "It's like a double date," Kylie said. "See?"

Bella snorted. "How romantic . . . Hi, Gio!"

"Greetings from Texas!" he shouted back.

"How you doin', darlin'?" Some kid winked at my wife.

"I'm good…"

I pulled Bella into the hall. "'Sup, Peto?"

"Oh…hiya Skip!" He waved. "Tell my father you_ saw_ me."

"Call him," I said.

"I do almost every day, but he doesn't understand Skype or Facetime." Peto pursed his lips. "I'm healthy and alive. Let him know."

I nodded, having to remember to have Kylie teach me how to do it, the video chat crap.

"Okay." Kylie brought her computer back to the bed.

"Did you eat?" Bella asked them.

"We ordered pizza." Kylie had wide eyes, like it was our cue to leave. "When Damion comes home, send him in."

My eyes went right to Maggie, and she was trying to cover her face.

"Have fun, ladies." I pulled my wife into my side, closing Kylie's door. "Let's watch TV."

"Let's get undressed first."

"I love the way you think." I picked her up, threw her ass right over my shoulder.

Our vacation didn't have to be over just yet. Besides, that's the best part of fighting: making up.

**Dun. Dun. Dun. I've cockblocked you all again! Bwa-ha-ha**

******No worries. Lemony, citrusy, sexy times are ahead!**

**Thank you for reading.**

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

**I'm sorry! I know most of you probably want more Edward and Bella (sigh) I'm sorry for not writing about their time away, too. I go/write what speaks to me, and this is how it went (shrug) There's a Sonny arc coming up, so we'll be hearing a lot from him. For those who dislike it . . . Idk what to tell you. Some shit is coming up. LOL. Just ride it out with me . . . I'm still nowhere near finished. **

* * *

**I never do recc's anymore, so here we go!**

**I'm so glad they're reposting these! Adult stories FOR adults. Amazing, really great. Check them out.**

**FIC RECS: Two of my favorites are BACK!**

**Scars and Souvenirs by Ashma0407**

RE-POST...A pending divorce, kids and reconnecting with a lost love. *Working summary* (**Lexi's summary**: Bella is unhappily married, and then she gets a surprise phone call from an old flame, Edward. Life and circumstances tore them apart, but can they reconnect - repair what was once shattered, their hearts?)

**www dot fanfiction dot net/s/8023233/1/Scars-and-Souvenirs**

****** At Last by Itlnbrt**

Edward and Bella find each other while married to others. Go on their journey while they try and find a way to be together and make it work. They have a lot to learn along the way to finally be together, at last.

**www dot fanfiction dot net/s/8533785/1/At-Last**

**Completed Rec:**

**30 Days of Darkness by mkystitch**

I refused to scream. No matter how bad he hurt me I wouldn't give him the pleasure of hearing my voice scream out. My only goal was to get out of this room alive. No matter the cost. *this is dark so I rec that you check out the trailer on my author page*** (She means her page) E/B. Rated M. **

******www dot fanfiction dot net/s/6188506/1/b30_b_bDays_b_of_bDarkness_b**

**Isla De Cullen by Cara No**

18 year old Bella and 37 year old Edward come from both the same world and two different worlds. She's invited to Isla de Cullen thanks to Alice. Will two weeks be enough? Very smutty. EPOV-BPOV "I will do anything to hear him call me 'little one' again."

**caranofiction dot wordpress dot com**


	18. Charm

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**POVs flip in this chap :-) It's basically a setup chapter/fluff, to introduce ch19, which is LONG, LONG, LONG. LOL. But I think you'll enjoy it. I'll post ch19 on Sunday. See ya then!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Eighteen: Charm**

**Bella POV**

**W**ith sadness in my heart, I didn't even get dressed today—taking Kylie's old spot on the couch.

So many realities have come to the surface.

Sonny and Katie are miserable, and that's filled my heart with . . . dread.

Kylie will be leaving soon, although I'm doing my best not to think about it. I know she has to go, and I'm extremely happy that she is. I'll just miss her. Besides those times when she was a baby—when I had to be away from her—I've never been away from Kylie for more than a week.

Edward and I are still a bit awkward—as much as we try to act normal. This always happens after we have shouting matches and he loses his temper. When we got home from Sonny's, my husband whisked me into the bedroom.

Alas, I just wasn't in the mood. But I faked enthusiasm, and to my surprise . . . he didn't notice, or he was pretending not to for a nut, and I haven't been down to fuck since.

It's not like it matters. He's been busy this week. We always have two guys outside. Vito has taken the backseat, and Salvatore has been driving Kylie around. I haven't gone anywhere, yet Vinny—Edward's new bodyguard—was to be at _my_ beck and call, instead of my husband's.

Something was going on. It could minor or big. You never know with Edward. It could be extra precautions, but if we were in danger, he would have notified me by now. I'd know.

I stuck to my guns as far as Kylie was concerned, although I suspect Edward is giving her money on the low. Deep in my bones, I felt we were creating another Esme—another shop-a-holic with a chip on her shoulder, another diva who believes the world owes her everything.

At the moment, she's not in school. She's working, and yet still has everything handed to her.

Aro's janitorial company is still going strong, and I let go of the maid we had—the one who would intricately clean the salon top to bottom—a few times a week. That's Kylie's duty now.

And the look on her face when I handed her the disinfectant . . . to clean the toilet.

That shit was priceless.

She's taking it all in stride, although I did let her hire Maggie part-time. I've taken a bigger role at the salon—to make sure they ALL work and don't loaf around—waiting for Nancy to do everything.

Edward has taken her out driving twice, and she's doing well—has a new appreciation for that hooptie. He takes her to the shopping mall at night, so she can do donuts in the empty parking lot. I hear they have a lot of fun, and I loved it—that they were getting to spend some time together, doing something of substance.

But today . . . while Edward is out and Kylie's at the salon, Ben and Jerry are keeping me company, along with Steve Wilkos. There's nothing better than seeing people worse off than you are when you're feeling down.

I was taking advantage of this time.

As soon as Edward comes home, I'll have to get ready—don a skimpy dress and put on a happy face.

Tonight was the Halloween party.

My husband refused to wear what I came up with. We're going as ourselves.

Our daughter tried to pull a fast one on Maggie's parents, but I spoke to Mrs. Sullivan myself. She was fine with her daughter tagging along—as long as Edward and I were to be there—and I'll never know why kids, my children, try to lie their way _to get_ their way.

Of course, Maggie won't be allowed to drink. But since I know how strict the Sullivans are, I'll look the other way if Maggie just so happens to have a cocktail in her hand—same with Kylie. She's spending the night anyway.

Along with giving her more responsibility, I want her to have more freedom. My biggest fear is her running away—because we've always kept her on a short leash. Once she gets to Texas, she might love being away from us and never come back.

That was Edward's argument, actually. Spoil her, so she doesn't bitch about being on lockdown most times.

It made sense, yet I still hated that my sweetheart was turning into something I didn't like. She needs more of a work ethic.

Sonny and Katie . . . forget about it. That shit just breaks my heart.

Nowadays, Damion and Amelia are doing just fine on their own.

I hear she's going as a ladybug—likely a slutty ladybug—and Damion plans to wear a suit and carry a net.

My husband was 100% correct in his thinking—the one night a year slut-wear is acceptable.

Kylie and Maggie are going as water nymphs—whatever the fuck they are. And I've seen their costumes . . . They're basically wearing lingerie with wings. Edward doesn't like it, but I was able to talk him down. No one will be dumb enough to give Kylie a second glance.

Again, although I want Kylie to work, I also want her to live . . .

When I heard the front door close, I was startled. But I heard giggling . . . It was Kylie and Maggie, and they're always giggling. I wondered why there were here this early.

"Hey, Momma." Kylie had shopping bags from Century 21 with her.

"Kylie…" I threw my spoon into the ice cream carton. "Are you serious with this shit? I asked you to cool it and save your money. What could you have possibly needed?"

"Mom…" Her eyes widened, turning back to her friend.

"Shouldn't you be in school until three?" I asked Maggie.

"Um…I skipped last period. It's a study hall period," she whispered, but I was sure—given the time of day—she'd ditched two periods.

"Does your mother know?"

"What's with the 'tude?" Kylie gestured to me. "And you look like crap."

Maggie gasped.

I grinned. "I guess you don't talk to your mother like that, do you?" I asked her.

"No, ma'am." She shook her head.

"Mommy…!" Kylie whined, crawling into my lap, and she kept going 'E.E.E.E' to draw out my name—Mommmyyyyyy.

I wasn't in the mood, especially since her knee dug into my thigh. "Kylie, please…go upstairs with your friend—"

She wrapped her arms around my neck. "I love you."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing—honest." She leaned away, pushing her messy hair out of her face.

"You need a haircut." Truthfully, it really wasn't like her to walk around this unkempt. But who was I to talk? I haven't shaved my legs or anything in a week, haven't washed my own hair in like three days . . . I have been showering, though.

"I wanna let it grow out. Bangs are last season," she sighed into my neck.

I snuggled her close, because, sometimes, Kylie just does this. "Does your mom treat you like a big baby?" I asked Maggie.

She giggled, shaking her head. "If I'm upset…"

"Right." I smiled at her. "Of course."

"Love on me—my God." Kylie tried to get me to hug her tighter.

She made me laugh, and I squeezed her as tight as I could. "Happy?"

"Yeah…" She backed up. "Now you can have your gift."

"Kylie…you don't need to waste your money on me—"

"I didn't." She pushed the bag into me.

"Oh." I nodded.

"Daddy did. He gave me money and said to get you a costume."

"Oh, geez." I was suddenly afraid to look into the bag. It was probably a barnyard animal—something to keep me covered from head-to-toe.

"It's not bad. I picked them out. Daddy has no idea." Kylie gave me an Eskimo kiss.

"I love you," I whispered. "I just—I got the blues, I guess."

"That happens . . . Love ya, too!" She left my lap, dragging Maggie away. But then she was back. "Dad's bag—his costume is upstairs." She wiggled her brows.

"Really?" Now I was genuinely smiling. It was the gesture—Edward willing to dress up when he never had before.

"Yup." She nodded. "But what are we having for dinner? Can we have pasta? Maybe if I fill up, I won't puke this time."

"I can do that…" I trailed off, really wanting to look into the bag. "But just pace yourself, and you know Dad's gonna be watching. Oh—" I frowned.

"What?" Her face matched mine.

"Your cousin is coming. Since you and Maggie were allowed to go—regardless of age—and you know…because he's a boy, Eddie will be there, and he'll likely tag along with you guys." I gestured to them.

The V.I.P. area is only supposed to be open to our large group—not all the top-ranking guys. We'd have our own bar, a view of the stage, and a small dance floor. They never hired an act, just some really famous DJ that I'd never heard of. Kylie was okay with that. I caught her and her friend trying to dance along with the "Thriller" video the other day. That was probably the highlight of my week.

Kylie narrowed her eyes, waving her finger at me, like I was going to get a good, stern talking-to. "You know…that's genius." She looked back to her friend.

"What?" Maggie asked.

"My cousin. He's harmless—gonna be sixteen in a month or two?" She turned back to me.

I nodded. "December 16th." For some reason, I remember everyone's birthday, especially his since it's so close to Sonny's. "What are you up to?"

"Dame's a dickhead, Ma—"

"Kylie!"

"It's true . . . He started all that trouble—"

"But you listened to him," I said. "You went along with it, and I always told you to think for yourself. You know your brothers can be asses . . . If it doesn't sound legit, don't do it."

"I never thought my brother would-would lead me astray." She started with the theatrics, holding her heart. "And Sonny would _never _do that to me." She turned to Maggie. "You used to stalk him from your bus stop, and you met Sonny that one time…He's really, really handsome. We look alike because we look like my sexy momma. Damion looks just like my dad." She gagged on her finger.

I rolled my eyes. "How could Damion predict the outcome of a thing…between your father and me? An argument no less?"

"For some reason, he was mad at Dad. That's why he did it—persuaded me…Because he knew… and it had nothing to do _with_ me. He knew that playing me would make you guys fight—that Dad would lose his temper, that you'd be pissed at Dad." She tapped her temple.

"Seriously?" I snorted. "Get real. He was trying to help you—"

"No, Mommy." She was dead-ass serious. "I know—I feel it." She held her stomach, which made me wonder what was going on with Edward and Damion. Our son hasn't been around lately . . . although, I figured it was due to Dame keeping Amelia to himself, or the other way around.

I tried to laugh it off, so Kylie wouldn't think too long on it. "Go grab some cat shit—"

"No. We're gonna make him jealous tonight." She nodded, matter-of-factly.

I giggled. "How are you—_his sister_—going to make him jealous?"

Kylie pointed to Maggie, sticking out her tongue. "She is."

"He'll be with Amelia." I didn't have the heart to say that Damion likely wouldn't give a shit—not while Maggie was in front of me. But then I remembered something. "Who's at the salon?"

"Nancy came back from her trip last night . . . She's there, and I even got her candy to hand out to the kiddos. We switched. I'm covering for her on Sunday, she's working this afternoon for me—"

"I thought the new deal—with hiring Maggie—was so there's always at least two of youse there to pick up the slack in the afternoons?" I raised a brow. "When it's the busiest?"

"I can't take time off to celebrate? It's Halloween—"

"You're an adult. You can't drop obligations just to put on a costume . . . and it's not really a holiday," I said. "School's still open. The bank's still open. The mail still comes—"

"Yeah, but it's _still_ a holiday—"

"Actually, it's a Pagan holiday," Maggie whispered, "to honor the dead—something like that."

"Are you going to church tomorrow for All Saint's Day?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Make sure you take Kylie with you." I winked at them.

"Would you shut up with your 'yes, ma'am' garbage. You're making me look bad." Kylie pushed her.

"You do that all on your own," Maggie said.

Kylie gasped. "I love her. Don't you _love_ her?" She attack-hugged Maggie, and I shook my head—actually loving how silly they were being.

"Oh…so, how does Eddie fit into your plans?" I turned off the sound on the TV, knowing whatever Kylie said would be better.

Kylie smirked, facing Maggie. "He grew a lot over the summer. He's really tall. It's not like he looks like a real kid anymore, but he is . . . He still has braces but they're the clear kind. He skipped a grade because he's a smarty-pants nerd."

"Hey." Now she was being a little mean.

She ignored me. "You might even know him. He has the same name as my dad—well, close. Edward Carlisle Cullen?"

"I don't know him, but okay." Maggie nodded along.

"And you're going to be all over him—"

"Kylie!" I slapped my thigh.

"What? Give the poor kid a thrill. She's hot." My daughter poked Maggie's tit. "Mom," she turned to me again, "there's gonna be only men—_actual men_—there. And Maggie's scared of the peen." She whispered that last bit behind her hand.

"No…apprehensive. I've never seen one before." And Maggie just straight up told me that, but she couldn't do it without blushing furiously.

"See? She's scared. She's never seen a penis before, and yet . . . Maggie_ loves_ peen," Kylie teased.

"I don't have to bite the donut to know it's sweet," she replied.

"Right-the-fuck-on!" Kylie gave her friend a high-five.

"Apprehensive . . . as you should be," I agreed. "Kylie how 'bout you and Maggie just focus on having fun tonight? Dance, laugh, get tipsy—"

"She wants to grab Dame's attention, too."

When I looked to Maggie, she actually just shrugged her shoulders like she didn't care.

My daughter continued. "And I'm sure Eddie or . . . I don't know. Someone will whip out a peen tonight."

"Kylie Marie!" I had a hard time keeping a straight face.

"I'm just saying. I don't know. It's possible . . . _if_ she asked." Kylie rocked back on her heels. "I'd say she'd be safe to hit on Anthony, but that's pointless . . . Dame knows all of Ant's secrets."

"Who's Anthony?" Maggie asked.

Kylie waved a hand. "My gay cousin—you'll love him, but it's a secret so don't say anything about—" She made a fist, like she was blowing the air, making a croak-y sound with her throat. And this girl was unbelievable. I had to bite my lips to keep from laughing.

Maggie nodded.

"Talk to Sonny," I blurted, and I couldn't believe I was helping them either.

"Huh?"

"Sonny doesn't have a date tonight." I grabbed Ben & Jerry, heaving my ass off the couch. "Using Eddie won't work . . . He's still a kid, no matter how tall or clear his face is," I laughed. "Damion won't care if…his competition_ isn't_ competition."

Because even if Damion isn't the slightest bit interested in Maggie anymore—_if he ever was—_seeing her with Sonny would sting.

Damion has always been jealous of Sonny, no matter what.

Then I felt bad.

"That's genius!" Kylie's eyes were huge.

"What's genius?" Edward announced.

"Daddy!" Kylie hugged him. "Mom suggested that Sonny could be Maggie's date . . . We were thinking about Eddie, but Sonny's better."

"Oh, Kylie…leave your brother alone." He kissed her head.

"No!"

"It's petty," he said. "And pretty little girls shouldn't be throwing themselves to . . . the wolves—" He moved his arm with a flourish, giving Maggie a look. She blushed, covering her face, and I thought that was adorable.

"Funny you should say that." Kylie waved a finger. "We'll be upstairs . . . and I am calling Sonny." She stuck her tongue out at Edward. "Come on, Mag."

They left and I was finally able to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Them," I sighed.

Edward took my hand, twirling me into his arms. "I've been busy this week."

"I know," I spoke to his chest.

"I've missed you."

"I missed you, too." I wove my fingers into his hair.

He closed his eyes, while I massaged his scalp. "I know you've been blah lately," he opened his eyes to place soft kisses on my nose, "love this thing." Then he bit it, and I giggled. "There's my Bebella."

My face crumbled, but I didn't cry. "It's not you, or us, or that stupid fight we had . . . It's just . . . Sonny's hurting so bad, and I can't do anything." I knew I probably sounded ridiculous, but I had to confess—tell Edward that.

He leaned his forehead to mine. "Sonny's okay . . . He's come to terms with things the best he can—"

"But he shouldn't have to. I know I was mad at her . . . It's Sonny and Katie."

"Like Edward and Bella?" He raised a brow. "They just go together."

I nodded. "I always thought they'd make it work, live happily ever after. I never thought she'd get married, but she went through with it. Then they had this second chance...They fucked up...yet I thought the baby being Sonny's was a blessing, something to push them back together. Only, it turned out to be this disaster."

"They're friends…they still care for each other, and what's to say they won't work it out? I think this was good for them." He nodded. "Yeah. Katie needed to be away from Raul, come clean about the baby . . . They have issues that can't be ironed out flat, but I think _they _need to stop overthinking everything—be friends, get to know each other again before they just jump into it. Once this baby's born…She's going to be healthy and beautiful, just like Nanny Bella, and she'll bring so much joy into all our lives."

I hummed, his words sounding wonderful, but . . . "If Katie's this selfish, nasty person now . . . I don't know. I don't want her dragging Sonny down. Meanwhile, just as recently as the summertime, we'd meet up often enough. We'd go to lunch, church...We even went to the beach. Now, ever since she got back with Sonny . . . She's miserable, he's miserable, but them being together is what's _making_ them miserable."

"And you want them together so badly," he laughed.

"I don't know what I'm saying," I grumbled, puffing my cheeks. "I just want Sonny to be happy, and if he stays with Katie, and Katie stays the way she is . . . it's a recipe for disaster. Because . . . Sonny won't leave her. He'll stay and do the right thing, sacrifice his own happiness and that's horrible."

"We all want them to be happy, but Sonny will get by . . . If they don't get back together? Either way, Sonny still has a new leading lady in his life...coming into his life."

I smiled brightly. "Very true."

"He'll be fine, my love."

I hugged him tightly. "I love it when you do this—you just, just help me see, and you make me feel better."

He kissed my hair, his hands trailing down to my ass. "You do that for me, too."

I smirked, leaning away—knowing I had a lot of shaving to do. I also knew Edward wouldn't give a fuck, but I would. "I wonder what costume Kylie picked out . . ."

His eyes widened. "I forgot all about that."

"Thank you." I slapped his ass.

He grunted, biting his lip, and grabbing a handful of my ass. "You're giving it up tonight."

"Gladly," I said.

"You're gonna do some ol' kinky shit."

"Whatever—you—want." I poked his chest.

"Word?" he asked. "'Cause we don't hafta go to this stupid party—"

"We do." I nodded.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Let's see this costume."

I went back for the couch, taking the bags. "Two bags . . . And Kylie says yours is upstairs." I pulled out a red cape, raising a brow, and looking up to Edward.

"What else is in here?" He took out a red corset—that I hoped would fit me.

"Shit."

"Kylie thinks you're wearing this tonight?" He threw his head back and laughed. "My wife is going to wear this outside, in front of people, in public? Is our daughter on fucking drugs—" He looked around himself. "Where is she? I mean, what are you supposed to be? Satan?"

"Satan?" I laughed.

"The Devil." He shrugged.

"There's a cape . . ." I pulled out the skirt that went with the top. "You can't figure it out?"

"Wolves . . ." He trailed off.

My hips swayed and I grabbed his hands. "Guess you're the big, bad wolf."

Edward growled. "Aren't I always?"

"Yeah." I placed my arms around him. "And I will rock the shit out of this tonight."

"Bella—" Now he had a straight face, taking my arms from around him.

"I'm a grown-ass woman, Edward . . . Seriously."

"You testing me right now?" He advanced toward me. "Trying to pick a fight?"

"No." I shook my head. "I like my costume, and I plan to wear it . . . for you, only you. But I'll say this . . . there is a cape, and it looks pretty big, so you need to calm the fuck down." I placed my hand on his chest.

He slumped his shoulders. "Can't we be something cute? We can go back to the store . . . You can be," he gasped. "We can be the Super Mario Brothers. I'll be Luigi."

"Fuck no." I backed away from him. "Deal with it."

"Fine, but then I don't wanna hear shit when I gotta pistol-whip a motherfucker."

Damn.

Now he got all sexy . . .

"I won't say a word," I whispered.

He shook his head. "I mean . . . Carlisle and Alex are going to be Dorothy and Straw Guy—"

"The Scarecrow."

"Whatever." He shrugged, still a little pissy. "I bet they win best costume—"

"What's the prize? Is that why you agreed to wear one? You got some bet with Carlisle?"

He looked away from me. "Poor Eddie's gonna be a Lollipop Kid, or whatever the fuck along with Blaze and Ronnie. They're going trick or treating beforehand. Karen's gonna be the witch . . . " He sucked his teeth. "I feel bad for that kid, though. Carlisle said he couldn't go to the club unless he wore it."

I snorted. "What's Sonny gonna be?"

"He refuses to dress up . . . bought fangs from the dollar store. I'm guessing vampire. Katie's obviously not coming."

"She's hugely pregnant. Teens at a nightclub, I can see. You know...? The teeth and a suit, though. That'll work."

"What's Dame, a beekeeper?" He scrunched his nose. "That'd make sense if Shorty was a bumblebee, but she's a ladybug?"

"I dunno." I shrugged. "Something—bug. You think we should tell Damion about Kylie's plans?"

Edward shook his head. "Let the girls have their fun, but I don't think Dame's gonna care. He acted like she didn't even exist that one Saturday."

"True," I said. "But…" I paused, thinking, "why is he avoiding this house now?"

Edward shrugged, shutting down.

"Edward?"

"We're giving away a fifty inch plasma for first prize." He smiled.

"All the TVs we have." I waved a hand. "And you care?"

"It's . . . it's all in good fun, but my wife will look hotter than Carlisle's. I already won."

I grinned, gazing up at him, but he was so full of shit. He wants that TV just to have it; meanwhile, he owns the club. IF he's going through the trouble of dressing up, he's just gotta win. "What about Aro and Lisa?" I asked.

Edward grimaced. "Mark Antony and Cleopatra."

"Fuck." I snapped my fingers. "We should have thought about this."

"See?" He pointed at me.

"Shut up," I muttered. "You didn't wanna be Bonnie and Clyde."

"Ant and AJ are going as old-time gangsters from _Boardwalk Empire_ or some shit—got these little Tommy Guns . . . I have a red tie . . . I'll wear my black Armani pinstripe suit and the mask." He pursed his lips. "What are Kylie and Maggie again?" Edward sat on the couch. "While I was passing 86th Street, I saw the cutest shit . . . Thing One and Thing Two. That'd be adorable for them."

I sat next to him. "They'd never go for it."

"Yeah, but they could win," he said.

I cuddled into his side. "I'll get you a new TV for Christmas."

"That's not the point."

"I know." I twirled my fingers into his hair. "Jasper's not dressing up, but Alice is going to be like a pirate beer wench or something."

He scrunched his nose. "Every year, everyone talks about their costumes, and the year I decide to dress up—"

I sighed. "Just stop . . . Go to the store and get a different costume."

He moved my legs off his lap and left the couch. "If I do, we're matching. I'll go right now—Winnie the Pooh and Eeyore? Or _we'll_ be Thing One and Thing Two?"

"Forget it." Now I had something to prove. "I'm Little Red Riding Hood."

**/=/=/=/=/**

**KYLIE**

**/=/=/=/=/**

Maggie looked hot in her costume. The dark blue corset—which let's face, is lingerie—showed off her hourglass figure and pushed her tits out. The bottom, which is like a tutu, flares out a bit, and the wings—we were saving those for last. I'm sure I looked the same as her in green, but it wasn't about me tonight.

Sure, I want to have fun and hang with everyone.

And it wasn't even really about getting back at Dame anymore. I wasn't sure if it was even going to work.

I guess . . . I just wanted Maggie to feel like a princess, sexy and beautiful. We got along amazingly well—the nun and the bratty rich slut. Well, that's what she assumed I was before she got to know me, just like I'd made assumptions about her.

We weren't really wrong . . . but I'm not a slut and Maggie isn't as innocent as she looks. She writes erotica, and she's never even kissed a boy before.

And I wanted to help her before I went away. It wasn't about turning her into a whore-bag. It was about getting Maggie comfortable within her . . . womanhood? Self?

"I don't know if I can wear these." She had wobbly legs, standing from the chair in stilettos. Her hair was the most time-consuming to do. I left mine down and wavy, but hers was down in medium-sized ring curls. They were perfect.

"You have to . . . they complete the outfit." She looked like sex on legs. "I'd totally do you."

She giggled. "You look…wow. Really good, too." She gestured to me.

I turned to look in the mirror, my belly protruding a little bit from that pasta . . . We're all supposed to go out to eat, but I wanted my food digested before I drank. Maggie thought the same. We ate already. Nevertheless, I sucked it in. "We'll be dancing and standing—" I heard voices. "They're here. You stay . . . I'll go get him."

She shook her head. "This is just weird. We shouldn't—"

"It's not weird. _I_ won't be looking. I don't wanna see it, but you should." I left the room, smoothing my bodice down.

My aunt, uncle, and cousin stood in the foyer with my father, making small talk as they trailed into the house. Eddie's eyes found me first, and I ignored him. "Hey, guys!"

"Wow!" Alex exclaimed. "Look at you." She was dressed like a milkmaid or something with braided pigtails.

"I know, right?" I rolled my eyes.

"Carlisle, doesn't she look nice?" Alex elbowed my uncle.

He nodded, looking to my father.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Dad said.

"You said you weren't going to be bitchy!" I shouted, which made my uncle laugh.

"I said you could wear it. I never promised to like it—you and your mother . . ." He grumbled shit under his breath, storming away.

"Men are going to look at you, and they'll be thinking—"

"About sex." I nodded.

"Exactly." Uncle Carlisle finished. "And you don't care?"

I shook my head. "I like the attention. I mean, I have a boyfriend…wish he could see me for real." I could never tell Gio, or even show him this costume. He'd flip his shit. I knew what Dad and Uncle Carlisle's deals were. They're protective. I get it, but…

"It's her body," Alex said.

Uncle Carlisle gave her this look. "You're lucky I didn't make _you_ be the Scarecrow." He stared down at her legs.

She gasped and playfully slapped his bicep.

"I'll be in the den with Ed." He pecked her lips.

My head whipped to my cousin, but he was referring to my father. "Hey." I waved to him.

He waved back.

"Mom's in her room getting ready." I had to get rid of Alex somehow.

She nodded. "I'll go see if she needs any help."

"My friend Maggie is here," I told Eddie.

"See?" Alex nudged him.

"She goes to your school."

Alex's eyes threatened to pop out of her head. "That's fantastic. Go—mingle." She pushed him off the settee. Eddie's on the quiet side, doesn't have a lot of friends . . . and I don't know why. He just doesn't. He hangs with these two kids. When I was at their house, they'd play video games for hours, or he was studying by himself. But last year, when we were in high school together, he was a loner. He doesn't have the best social skills. I'm glad he has the few friends he does now, though.

"I think you look beautiful," Alex said, giving my hand a squeeze.

"Thank you." I watched her walk away, and then my gaze landed on my cousin. "What are you supposed to be? A Keebler Elf?" I cracked myself up and tried not to laugh. "Snap, Crackle, or Pop?" He could have been either with that...weird hat-thing and the shorts. "Oh, you're one of the Seven Dwarves, right? Bitchy?"

"What are you supposed to be? A whore?" He dug into his pocket. "How much?"

"Hey!" I pushed his shoulder. "I'm a water nymph—"

"A nympho? Nice." He nodded. "That was my second guess."

"Listen, fuck-o—" I waved my fist.

He shook his head. "It's bad enough . . . I'm the picture of humiliation—a fucking Lollipop Kid."

"A what?"

"The Wizard of Oz . . . and a water nymph. That's like a fairy, right?" "

"Right." I tapped my chin. "You wanna raid Damion's closet? He's got some nice suits . . . He's got fucking costumes too!" I hit myself on the head. "He was always in those school plays and crap."

"My dad said I couldn't go . . . but I don't even wanna go if I have to wear this." He crossed his arms over his chest.

I nodded. "Come…come meet my friend."

I knew he was following me back into my bedroom. I felt his eyes on me. What I didn't expect was to stop short and have him bump into me. "Easy," I said. "You've been around girls before. Haven't you?"

He gulped. "All the time." He was lying.

I opened my door, gesturing for him to go inside.

"Wow." His jaw almost hit the floor when he saw her.

I giggled behind him. "Go—mingle." I pushed him inside, closed the door, and then went into Dame's room. I knew which costume I was looking for as soon as I tore through his closet. Mom used to have to make them for whichever production he was in. And if I'm not mistaken, he was Romeo when he was a sophomore. But then I found a Luke Skywalker costume, and thought, fuck it. Mom didn't make this one. It was in a bag, hanging from the bar with the picture on it. It was truly one of Dame's old Halloween costumes; that goober always dressed up.

When I entered my bedroom—_and I don't know what I was expecting to see_—Maggie was sitting in my desk chair, and Eddie was on my bed—neither saying a word. "Go put this on."

"Awesome!" His eyes lit up. "Do you have a lightsaber?"

"I might have some gum…in my purse." I pointed.

"No, dipshit. A lightsaber," Eddie said.

I pushed him. "I don't know. Don't call me that."

He didn't say anything—turning to leave my room.

"Wait." I grabbed his forearm. "Maggie, um—"

"Kylie…Please, don't." Maggie was cradling her head, which made me giggle.

"She's never seen a peen before, like a real one…?"

His eyes widened. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Um, duh…I'll turn around." I chuckled.

He trailed his hand through his hair. "You're serious?"

"What's the big deal?" I asked, "Unless you're _not_ a big deal." I gestured to his manly area, wincing. "I get it, bro."

"Well, right now I don't have much to show her . . ." He trailed off. "Don't you know the mechanics—I thought you were with Andino? He hasn't hit it yet?" I never knew Eddie to be so damn pervy. It's better than him being all quiet, though.

"He's…done plenty hitting. I'm going to leave again." I pointed to the door. "You…show her."

"I will . . . When you _kiss_ her."

"What?" Maggie and I shouted in unison.

Eddie put his hands up, laughing his ass off. "I'm gonna go change. This was fun, but if you wanna see my dick—you two better get to kissing."

"Get out, freak!" I pushed him out of my bedroom, and he bumped right into my father.

"You all right?" Dad asked him.

Eddie looked like he was about to keel over and die.

"Deal with that!" I slammed the door, bristling. "He's weird, right?"

Maggie grinned. "I don't know."

I gasped. "Oh my God…you like him."

"He's handsome…but no. I don't like him." She didn't blush or anything. So, no, she doesn't like him.

I shrugged. "You're eighteen. It'd be illegal if you two—" I bumped my hands together.

"Why do you assume I wanna have sex with all these people?" she asked. "Just because I think a guy's cute, doesn't mean—"

"You don't think about it?" I checked on my glittery makeup and my lip gloss in the mirror. "Just—like you see some hot guy in the street and wonder…I don't know."

"Do you?"

I nodded. "Lots of times."

"And you don't feel bad, about your boyfriend?"

I snorted. "Petty fantasies are just that." I pointed to my temple. "Cheating is a whole different ballgame. You know? Just because someone is committed doesn't mean they can't find others attractive."

"Did you see Eddie's face, though? He wouldn't stop staring at me. And he didn't even say a word while you were gone."

"I know! He totally wanted you," I said.

She squealed. "Do I really look okay? Like, sexy?"

"You look amazing!" I promised her. "And you totally still wanna fuck Dame, don't you?" I shuddered.

"I wouldn't go that far . . ."

"Maggie?" I raised a brow.

"Yes, I still find him attractive. That doesn't mean I want to...or I'm going to—you know." She stared up at the ceiling. "I doubt I'd be able to go through with it, even if I had the chance. I'd be so nervous."

"Baiting the hook and reeling it back without a catch would make you a cocktease . . ." I sighed.

"What?" she laughed. "I didn't understand that."

I thought over my words, to see if they made sense, but then I just shrugged. "He has a girlfriend…we're just screwing with him. You realize that, right?" I've truly grown to adore Amelia, and if Dame goes for Maggie, he's just an idiot . . .

"Yeah." Her lips drew a tight line.

"Don't be sad!" I warned.

"I'm not . . . I wouldn't want to be with someone who would cheat on their girlfriend anyway. That's not cool."

"It's not." I smiled at her, at how sweet and genuine she truly is. It's not an act. "This is just my scheme . . . Sonny is better anyway, and he's…well, he's single. But not someone you date. He'd be someone you could have your first kiss with. He's the type of guy you embrace and then let go." I widened my arms. "He's one of those guys who are good for one thing, and one thing only?" I wondered if she got that meaning. "That's what I've heard..." It's true; I've heard about my brother's prowess from a few customers at the salon, and how women like to use him for sex. They know he won't or can't commit.

"He's like ten years older than me. Not to mention, he's just...Santino. What would he want with—"

"He screwed Bianca, who's my age." I pointed to myself. "And we're technically the same age now." I waved a finger. "Both eighteen. Penises do not see morals or ethics or religion. When the brain knows the poon is legal, all systems point to go!" I nodded, pursing my lips. "Men are disgusting, and he's nine years older than you. But a kiss is nothing…once you get over that hurdle…I mean, it's the _other_ stuff you wanna save for a boyfriend."

"My first kiss—I want it to mean something."

I grinned. "Right. Well, I can hook you up, but I can't perform any magic tricks."

"Maybe we should just…" She paused, blowing out a breath. "Like, listen to your mom? She's really cool. I just—I wanna help you get back at Damion, but—I don't know." She shrugged. "I'm afraid to see him again." She rubbed her stomach. "He ignored me last time . . . like I didn't even exist, and that sucked—even if I keep telling my brain not to care. Why's this so confusing?"

"Because you like him, and I don't know why. But even if you didn't like him, being ignored—feeling invisible still sucks—" My phone dinged and I dove for it—hoping it was Sonny.

**/=/=/=/=/**

**SONNY**

**/=/=/=/=/**

Leaning my head directly onto my desk, I hoped to waste some time—fall asleep. I still had hours until I had to be at Midnight Sun—show my face and then go home. There was no point in me going to Brooklyn, only to come back.

Katie doesn't give a fuck about what I do. At this point, we're strictly friends, and I'm slowly getting used to it—getting accustomed to her not caring. It's like it was before, only with no Raul.

Our daughter, who I've been pushing to be named Isabella, still has two months to go. But I couldn't wait for her to get here.

Regardless of wasting time at the moment, I wished there was a way I could snap my fingers and it would be Christmas time already.

I tried it . . . concentrating and snapping my fingers under my desk.

It didn't work.

But then there was a knock, and I lifted my head. "Come in!" I shouted out loud, hoping whoever would hear me.

It was Misty. She sauntered in, half-naked and wearing a pink wig.

"Who are you supposed to be?" I asked.

She shrugged. "No one. I wanted to wear this today." She ran her fingers through it. "Listen," she leaned toward me, "I need Monday off."

I pointed. "Layla's on the floor. She can help you out."

She folded her arms across her chest. "She's a joke—"

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Because we all know you run things." She smiled. "She's mousy, and this place was already eating her up," she laughed. "But seriously…I'd ask her, and then she'd come and ask you anyway."

"Why do you need the day off?"

"I have court, and it might be an all-day thing—"

I grabbed the weekly schedule. "You don't work until nine on Monday. Courts are closed by then."

"Yeah, but when would I sleep?" She raised a brow. "I make more money Sunday nights, although you have more girls on."

"Just—yeah, whatever." I knew she'd keep going—feeding me excuse after excuse until I just gave in. "We're interviewing a few new girls…it shouldn't be a problem, having time off in the future…" I threw that out there.

"Judge might put me in rehab anyway. It's my second DUI."

I nodded, pursing my lips. "I wish you the best of luck."

She slapped my back. "Thanks, Cullen."

And after she left, I went into snooze mode again. But then I received a text from my cousin. AJ, Dame, Amelia, and he were all having dinner at La Bella Italia—a late dinner before we'd all head to the club. It sounded good and I agreed, said I'd be there with my vampire teeth.

I think I picked up the wrong ones. They're like slightly green. They might glow in the dark.

"Fuck." I flicked a Post-it football across the room—wondering if Misty was still here, wondering if Misty had some blow or would blow me.

Bored as fuck, I walked out onto the floor. It was still early and not many people were here, but the dancers were prowling . . .

"Do you need a drink?" Layla asked.

"You're not a waitress," I said.

"I'm just…just being nice." She ducked her head.

I picked her chin up. "Don't look down. Always stare straight ahead."

She nodded. "Okay."

"Yes," I said.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Hey…" I poked her shoulder. "Walk with me."

She grabbed her clipboard, hugging it to her chest and following close behind.

"Just hold it in your hand." I pushed that shit away. "Keep your head up and always have your eyes open . . . this is your floor." I gestured, moving my arm. "In order to run the club—"

"I have to be the club…know what's going on." She listened to me.

"Exactly . . ." I peeped Paula stretching in the changing room.

"She's beautiful," Layla said, "right?"

I shrugged. "Yeah . . . Who else is working tonight?" It'd be weird if I brought a stripper with me as a date tonight, but stranger things have happened. I just didn't want to go to this dinner alone. I'd be fine at the club . . . Midnight Sun. Everyone at La Bella Italia was going to be coupled up. AJ sent me a text earlier; his sister wasn't coming—didn't want to—and I knew that shit already. Maybe he was just throwing that in my face again because he's a douchebag. Anthony is bringing his "friend" Eric, and we all can't wait to meet him. I'm sure he'll be at the club, too.

"Are you lonely…looking for something? An escort? Because you know who's working."

"Who?" I asked.

"Pepsi . . . You always come out when she does her routine."

It's true, lately I have. Again, I don't know Pepsi from anywhere, but I like what I see. She's on the new side, too, only having worked here a few months—this hot Philippine chick with double Ds. Her ass was okay, too.

And she swings from the pole by her fucking legs.

And wearing clothes, she'd look nice on my arm.

"You said you were leaving early . . .?" I turned to Layla.

"I'm taking Jason trick or treating—just in our building," she giggled. "He doesn't really know what's going on, but I'll only be gone an hour."

"Mike'll be here until eleven."

"Yeah," she sighed.

"You okay?"

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. "Do you think we can change the music up?"

"Yeah, do what you want."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up.

"Yeah, really." I smiled. "It's just music."

"Well, we have a diverse crowd…your father's people, they might like something from their era, or even some simple classic rock . . . The girls can get down to that, too."

"I like it."

"Awesome." She grinned, pulling her suit jacket down. "It's itchy with no shirt underneath." Yeah, it was my idea to have her wear it like that—a red bra and just the one button done on the black jacket. It shows off her cleavage, just a bit of her stomach, and the rest of her body was covered—her brown hair flowing down her back and the red heels on her feet.

When I took her shopping, I wasn't much help. I don't know a lot about women's fashion. I just know what I like—what's classy. And I was slowly getting used to seeing Layla without her bleached-blond wig.

"You look great, though."

She winced. "As long as I fit in . . . is it weird that it _feels_ weird to be wearing this much clothing here?" she laughed.

"I dunno . . . I'm always wearing a suit. You'd have to wear like polo Ts at Friday's . . . "

"Oh no! I wasn't saying—I didn't mean to sound ungrateful or anything."

"Jesus. Relax," I laughed, placing my hands on her shoulders. "Look at me."

She did, her blue eyes a bit watery.

"It takes a lot to offend me. I'm a big boy, and I was kidding around—I think suits are better than polo t-shirts." I shrugged. "You have to relax, roll with the punches, because . . . you are expected to socialize."

"Mr. Andino—"

"Aro is one customer out of how many?" I asked. "You have the lists—of people who drop major money in here. Learn it—learn their likes, their dislikes, their drinks, if they like a little something special. We've gone over this." I stood to my full height.

"I know. I'm just afraid I'm going to forget. That's why I carry the clipboard." She showed it to me. "It's all here. The only problem I've had so far is with Mr. Macari—"

"Caius." I spat. "You don't worry about him. He gives you trouble, you come find me. Okay?" Dejectedly, I touched her bottom lip with my knuckle. It was a soothing gesture—not a big deal. I just didn't mean to do it. "You leave when you have to. Mike'll be here."

She nodded.

"Have fun with Jason."

"Oh…" Smashed in the clipboard was a pair of cat ears, and she put them on. "How do I look?"

I chuckled. "Cute."

"How's Katie feeling?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I, uh, you know if you wanna talk about your kid, that's cool. But my personal life—"

"I'm sorry." She rushed out.

And I was apologetic, too. The day we went shopping I did a little venting, and Layla was easy to converse with. She doesn't know anyone. She had a clear view when I told her some of our issues. She told me with time and patience—whether we got back together or not—Katie and I could have a decent parenting relationship. It seemed legit, although I have no idea if she knows about most of the people we cater to.

"If you need me…" I jerked a thumb, going back into the office, but then I wanted a drink.

I went back out to the bar, avoiding everyone. Poured myself some Dewar's, and then lifted my head. Layla was smiling—talking, speaking very enthusiastically to some Japanese businessmen. That's what I liked to see. It's weird with her. She did what she did when she'd dance—she was horrible, nervous, fumbling, and even worse after that shit. But she was likeable—the guys dug her overall cuteness, and I knew—once she had some confidence—she'd be great.

In time, Layla will excel much more as a manager/supervisor than she ever did as a dancer/waitress.

"Yo…" Mike approached me.

"You're here early," I commented.

"I needed a drink." He grumbled, hopping up onto a stool.

Knowing he likes beer, I poured him one.

"Thanks." He gave me a head nod. "She's really not going to be dancing anymore?" He pointed to Layla.

I shook my head.

"You greasin' her?" He punched the air.

I chuckled. "How is that your business?"

"It's not. I'm heading to Midnight Sun later—when I leave here." Mike is a decent bookie—does his business here and then at Twilight. People can usually find him at either spot. He moonlights as a shy, too, lending money to fuckers. He's connected through Nunzio—got his button the same day I did, and yet here he is . . . working for me. "I wanted to ask her to be my date or something."

"She has a kid—"

"I have two—but you know that." He shook his head.

"Ask her…"

"So, you're not?" He made that gesture again.

"No," I said. "You know what happened to her, though. She might not be ready to date."

"I'm a decent guy—single. I'd never disrespect...She's gorgeous." He was sincere and yet full of shit. "I figured you might be. Lori was a dancer once, too."

"I'll be in the office." I tapped the bar, took my drink, and then walked back.

I'd left my phone on my desk, and when I picked it up—Christ—I was surprised, baffled by how many text messages I had. I read Kylie's first.

_Big Brother, where art thou? —K_

_U love me, right? —K_

_Can U do me a huge favor? —K_

_A HUGE favor N I'll neva ask anything again? —K. _

Yeah, that last message has been sent a bunch of times. I bet she copied and pasted it. Then I read the one I received from AJ. My parents, aunt, uncle, Kylie, my cousin Eddie, they were all coming to La Bella Italia, too. Needless to say, taking one of the dancers wasn't an option anymore.

But then my phone vibrated in my hand. My mother was calling me. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby . . . We're on our way to the restaurant—about to be. Kylie said she tried to reach you, but…"

"I—wasn't paying attention." Two of those messages had come in earlier. I'd just chosen to ignore them.

"But you're okay?"

"I'm great," I lied.

While my mother rambled on about how things will get better, Layla came to the door. I let Mom talk, and then opened the safe for Layla. She needed to empty two of the bar drawers.

When she dropped a roll of quarters, because she's incredibly clumsy, it gave me the chance to sneak a stack of marked twenties and quite a few c-notes in—taking the same amount of clean bills out. The girls exchange their shit at the end of the night with the bartender. I changed that shit last year. They used to have to bother me or Dad every night.

There were quarters everywhere, and I enjoyed the view as she bent to grab them all. It was a great opportunity.

"Uhuh…"

"Really?" Mom sounded surprised.

"What?" I shook my head, tearing my eyes away from Layla's ass. Swearing to Christ, I blanked out, having no idea what Mom said.

"She'll be here . . . you work your charm."

"My what?" I scratched my head. "Go over this again."

Mom squealed. "He's gonna do it."

"Yes!" Kylie shouted in the background.

"Of course he is." That was Dad's sarcastic ass.

"Rewind!" I tried to gain her attention. "Mom, what am I doing?"

"You're going to…be Maggie's date for the night."

"Who's Maggie?" I laughed.

"You know…Maggie. It's just a game." She was whispering now. "To make Dame jealous. We both know it's not going to work, but be a good sport . . . Maggie doesn't have the best self-esteem..." These broads and their bullshit, I thought. Not my mother . . . of course. "You'll like her costume, so watch yourself."

"Down the block, Girl Scout Maggie?" I asked in disbelief. "She's my date for tonight? You're serious? Isn't that illegal?"

What Misty said earlier came to mind. I'd eat that girl up and spit her out alive before midnight.

"No, it's not serious. That's what I'm trying to say. Just…come to dinner and flirt with her, compliment her, be her Prince Charming, plant your flag and be…be fucking believable, convincing. There's no harm in it. Do it for your mother."

"Uh, I'm a gigolo now?"

"She's eighteen." That caught my attention, as much as I wished it didn't. Maggie definitely wasn't illegal. "No, you're not a gigolo. I figured since you're not ready to date yet—"

"I'm not?" That was news to me, too.

"Well . . . you need time to figure stuff out. She'll keep you company . . . You won't feel the need to, to seek, uh, hit on some chick or find a date."

"Right." I snorted. "Fine. I'll do my best. I'm not exactly Prince Charming."

"Oh, baby . . . You don't see yourself clearly at all, do you?"

I didn't comment.

"I'll see you soon…Love you, baby." She ended the call.

Sighing, I placed my phone on the desk and stared at it, wondering what I'd gotten myself into.

"Um, everything—everything okay?" Layla dropped a few more quarters, the sound of them hitting the floor and rolling grating on my nerves.

"Need some help?"

"Oh…" She kept cupping her hands over.

"Just put them on the desk." I put my hands over hers, using items on my desk as obstacles so the coins wouldn't escape.

"Sorry for disturbing you," she whispered, just pushing them into the drawer, another quarter falling…

We went for it at the same time, bumping our heads together.

"Shit." I touched my hairline. "You okay? I'm hardheaded."

She giggled. "I don't even wanna try anymore."

"What's got you jumpy?" I went to have a seat.

"I don't know." She looked down.

"Eyes up here." I pointed to my own.

She met my gaze. "So . . . you have a hot date tonight?" Her tone was teasing, which made me think she heard most of the conversation—probably more than I did. My mother's phone voice is obnoxiously loud.

"Well…" I loosened my tie.

"Sorry for asking. I'll just—" She pointed to the door.

"Stay," I whispered, waving her toward a chair. I don't know why I bother. She's always going to ask—for some people, it's compulsory—and I was always going to have the want or need to tell her . . . And I wasn't sure why that was, but it was. "My mother likes to meddle in people's love lives."

She grinned. "You're to be Prince Charming?"

I laughed. "For this…girl who's on her way to college, so she can learn how to be a nun." I shook my head. "It's crazy, but it's a ploy to make my brother jealous or something."

She furrowed her brow. "It doesn't add up."

"Damion—" She frowned when I said his name. "Look, he was, he had a bad night that night. I can't explain him, but . . . you don't have to fear him." If I could only tell her Damion was the one who took Nicki out—not that she knows he's dead.

She nodded, looking down.

I hummed, not correcting her. "Well, he hung out with her one night, and he was mad drunk—everyone's been teasing him ever since. Supposedly this girl thinks she's in love with him—"

"Somehow, I can't see the draw," she commented. "Sorry."

I waved a hand, dismissing that.

A small smile crept on her lips. "You should do it, but don't do it half-assed. If she doesn't have a chance with him, help her forget him. You're good at that—wooing the ladies."

"I am?" I asked.

"You are," she giggled.

"How so?"

"Are you fishing for compliments, Mr. Cullen?" She raised a brow, leaving the chair with the drawers of money. "I have a club to manage." She went for the door.

"All right . . ." I swiveled in the chair. "Just leave me hanging."

She stopped in the doorway. "I'm sure she's not ugly . . . how bad can it be? Worst case scenario . . . at the end of the night, you have a good laugh. Sometimes . . . it's all about the laughs?" She crinkled her eyebrows and then snorted. "You know what I mean. Be Prince Charming, be yourself. Have a good time—"

"Santino," I said.

She nodded, smiling wide. "Santino," she all but whispered, leaving the office.

When she was gone, it was about time to leave. Now that I was meeting them all at the restaurant, I didn't have to waste any more time with menial tasks. After finishing my drink, putting everything away, and locking everything up, I went for another scotch—sitting next to Mike at the bar.

"You're heading over there later?"

Mike kept his eyes on the door. "Layla just left—turned me down."

That made me smile. "Such is life, right?" I patted his back.

"Yeah." He sipped his beer.

I guzzled the rest of my shit, leaving the barstool. "I gotta go. Everything is chill—you can leave when Layla comes back."

"Cool . . . 'Cause you know the freaks come out—not only at night—but on Halloween." He smiled. "The outfits…my God."

"Word," I agreed.

As I left Eclipse, I sent Layla a text message—telling her to call me if anything came up. She assured me she'd be fine and to have a good time.

Midtown traffic was a bitch, especially since I was in a taxi, but I knew I'd be hammered later—too fucked to drive. It was crazy. It took nearly an hour just for me to get downtown—to Little Italy.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

* * *

**I'm so glad they're reposting these! Adult stories FOR adults. Amazing, really great. Check them out.**

**FIC RECS: Two of my favorites are BACK!**

**Scars and Souvenirs by Ashma0407**

RE-POST...A pending divorce, kids and reconnecting with a lost love. *Working summary* (**Lexi's summary**: Bella is unhappily married, and then she gets a surprise phone call from an old flame, Edward. Life and circumstances tore them apart, but can they reconnect - repair what was once shattered, their hearts?)

**www dot fanfiction dot net/s/8023233/1/Scars-and-Souvenirs**

****** At Last by Itlnbrt**

Edward and Bella find each other while married to others. Go on their journey while they try and find a way to be together and make it work. They have a lot to learn along the way to finally be together, at last.

**www dot fanfiction dot net/s/8533785/1/At-Last**


	19. Shaky and Jack

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**Hella long, but this is already a part two. Blah. I didn't want to split it. So, here ya go!**

**Enjoy THIS MONSTER of a CHAPTER!**

**Starts where the last chap left off :-)**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Nineteen: Shaky and Jack**

**SONNY POV**

_**D**_inner—the small party they were having at La Bella Italia—seemed to be in full swing. The restaurant itself was empty, leaving my family to occupy the main dining room. I was able to see them—actually hear their loud mouths from the cab, although at night this is a quiet street.

Shaking my head, I was robbed—paid the driver, and then left the car.

To my surprise, Damion was standing on the curb, looking down the block while he smoked a cigarette. With his hand in his pocket and wearing the pinstriped suit, he resembled my father so much it was scary. Without glasses, his chin pointed up instead of keeping his head down; he seemed confident as well.

The getup he was wearing was cool, though. He must have gotten in on the gangster bit with my cousin. He had a hat tucked under his arm.

"You look good," I said.

He grinned, nodding slowly. "Figured I'd join 'em—Ant got it for me. We all got dressed here except for Amelia. We walked into the restaurant . . . four gangsters and a ladybug. Sounds like some fucked-up movie title." He was laughing, which was refreshing, but that one night . . . it started the same.

"That was cool of him . . ."

"The shit Amelia got me is still upstairs in AJ's crib—fucking beekeeper. She bitched but got over it quickly—wanted to fuck me after I put this shit on." He jerked his head. "What are you s'posed to be?" he asked, blowing his smoke into the air.

"The Great Santino—obviously." I widened my arms.

"Nice." He pulled from the smoke, pausing and appraising me. "I gotta go see your guy—get myself a few new suits."

"Just go—he'll hook you up."

He nodded, flicking his cigarette into the street. "Well, if I'm gonna be working _with_ Dad, I'll need to look the part." He said that like it was supposed to bother me.

Little did he know he was to work as a low-man. Jeans and sneakers are just fine for that shit—doing Dad's bidding, anyone's bidding really, fetching drinks, making sandwiches, picking up food orders, bringing cars around, collecting, and everything else under the sun—every one of my father's whims.

Dame was to be a mountain-mover, and I knew why our father was doing it. He wanted to put Dame in his place.

It's not the easiest job, especially for him with his last name—he'll likely be the oldest dude, too. A lot of it is hanging out and waiting, doing tasks and then coming back to whichever place Pop sets up shop for the day. It's not like he'll be attending sit-downs or anything. He'll be waved away, bunched with the rest of the kids hoping to make a name. It's like being forty and working as a cashier at McDonalds, meanwhile, your boss is a nineteen-year-old punk.

I knew I was going to have fun with this.

"Right," I said, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from chuckling. "You'll do good."

He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm not exactly interested."

"You should have thought about that before."

"All of it or none of it—I get it."

"As long as you do . . ." I smiled.

He sighed, which was more of a growl. "We should head in." He went for the door. "Look," he stepped closer to me instead, "you gotta help me out."

Apprehensive, I gestured for him to continue.

"Fucking Maggie is in there . . . She keeps staring, and Amelia might scratch her fucking eyes out before dinner's over."

"What do you want me to do about it?" I already knew what was coming.

He shook his head. "I don't know." Maybe I was wrong. He's never been the best with common sense. "Amelia says everywhere we go—she acts like I got chicks propositioning me at every turn. It's just—crazy coincidental. Talk to Maggie, flash her your Colgate smile, your cock—I don't give a fuck. Just help me out."

"Okay."

"I don't understand why she has to be this way. I arrived with her. I'll be leaving with her. I'm _her_ man!" He was very passionate about this shit.

"She loves you," I said.

He stopped to smile. "Craziest shit ever, and she has no idea—how many times a day I ask myself how I got so lucky. I'm not going anywhere—fucking Maggie . . ." He blew out a breath. "Thanks." He patted my shoulder. "But you don't have to—like, it's not serious. Just occupy her time."

There it was.

He wanted me to do this but not really do it. Yet, Mom and them want me to go for it—or something. I was confused; however, I had the basic knowledge of the task at hand.

"No worries. I'll do what I can." I grabbed for the door, but he stopped me.

"Just don't touch her—"

"What?" I asked, like I heard him wrong.

"Don't—" He massaged the back of his neck. "Whatever." He grumbled, stomping into the restaurant.

It seemed—whomever's intentions—were working well, already fucking with his head. They needn't bother, though. His head's a fucked place already.

Everyone was all smiles as I went around the table kissing cheeks. I stopped to shake Eric's hand, briefly wondering what my uncle thought about his presence. Everything seemed chill, though. Eric was younger, likely the same age as Anthony—twenty-one—and he came up to my shoulder, a short stocky guy with sandy brown hair and really dark eyes.

I'd met AJ's new honey a few times already. Melanie was a recent grad of some fancy cooking college, and AJ was thinking about his dick when he hired her—red and black hair, the dyed kind, piercings, tattoos, tall with long legs and a pretty smile. She resembled a pin-up chick.

Lucky for him, she's a fantastic cook. She was also here at the table. Melanie wore the rags she usually does when she's working, and after saying hello, she went into the kitchen—said she'd be back with my usual.

Not one to complain about a pretty chick grabbing my food, I found it convenient that the chair next to Maggie wasn't taken. It was saved for me.

Before I could even look at Maggie, my sister demanded my attention. "Sonny!" Kylie was drunk already or on her way, and she hugged me around the neck. "I've missed you."

I kissed her hair, looking down to what she was wearing. My gaze flashed to Dad's, wondering if he'd lost his mind. "Put on my jacket—" I went to shrug out of it.

Kylie laughed. "Oh, big brother . . . I'm not wearing it—don't fight me." She left my lap, going back to her chair, and she hit me in the face with her wing.

Looking back to my father, the man was engrossed in conversation with Carlisle and Aro with his arm around Mom. I had no idea what she was supposed to be—draped in red. The Kool-Aid pitcher? Her hair looked nice, though—down and curly with a red ribbon.

We had a cast of characters at the table, including Luke Skywalker and a ladybug. She was the only person I didn't greet—didn't want Dame to . . . get the wrong idea. If they really wanted to fuck with him, they should have me do something as benign as wink at Amelia.

Nevertheless, I had her attention for some reason when I looked around—she was staring at me, our eyes met, and I gave her slight head nod, thinking she should be paying attention to her man.

"Hello," I said to Maggie.

"Hi." She kept her eyes on her lap.

"Remember me?" I snapped my fingers for a drink.

"Santino," she whispered.

"What was that?" I cupped my ear, getting closer to her.

"Santino." She turned to me, dressed like Kylie in a skimpy getup. Her outfit was a dark navy blue, and it went well with her fair skin tone. She looked good—almost _too_ good and _too_ grown-up. This wasn't going to be that difficult.

"Don't fuck her—you won't get rid of her," Kylie whispered in my ear, leaving her chair again. She was the life of the party, going over to sit between Anthony and Eric.

"What'd she say?" Maggie asked.

I shook my head. "You had a birthday recently…?"

"Yeah." She nodded, her cheeks flushing.

"Relax." I placed my hand on her forearm, and she developed goose bumps. Rubbing them out, I leaned farther into her to whisper, "I've been briefed . . . you're fine—don't be nervous." When she nodded, I said, "Now giggle and smile." When she did that, I touched my nose to her neck. "You look…you're gorgeous." I breathed into her ear.

She blew out a breath, her shoulders slumping.

"Wish I _really_ had your attention…"

"You do," she whispered. "I'm—I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I touched her lips with my thumb.

She swallowed loudly, and then squirmed in her seat—lightly brushing her thigh to mine.

That was when I leaned back in my chair, welcoming my drink, and giving myself some credit.

_I could charm the habit off a nun._

My food wasn't far behind my drink. The Steak Pizzaiola was amazing—it always is—and Maggie and I made small talk while I ate.

She giggled and smiled a lot—was so fucking adorable—and I was halfway through my meal when I realized she wasn't stealing glances at Dame anymore. Whatever I was doing was working, but I wasn't doing much.

With the chastest of touches, I had no idea if our behavior was bothersome to my brother.

When I took my last bite, I realized I didn't give a fuck. Maggie was good company, and she'd look fuckhot on my arm as we walked into the club. Regardless of how young she was, she was curvy and sexy and beautiful. One of the things I'd remembered about Maggie was that she had those big eyes. She still did, but up-close they were gorgeous and framed with these long-ass lashes.

And I couldn't tell if her eyes were hazel or light brown. Every time I gaze into them, she finds her lap, her hands, something else more interesting.

The girl was oozing sexual frustration or repression. Whichever one, she looked like she needed one good fuck, and then she'd be okay.

Could I do that?

Would she _let _me do that?

Either way, as we were all piling into cars to head uptown, I felt really good—the best I had, not since I got back together with Katie again, but from way before I even got my heart stomped on.

With Maggie tucked under my arm, we shared a limo with Damion and Amelia, Kylie, AJ, Anthony and Eric, and Little Eddie. The rest—the "adults" were riding in another limo.

My brother and his girl laughed at something they were looking at on his phone. That little fucker Eddie sat in the corner, looking out the window, but every few seconds he'd stare down at Amelia's legs. Kylie was still entertaining my cousin and his boyfriend, while AJ wouldn't stop fucking staring at me.

"What's up?" I asked him.

"Nothing." Now he wouldn't meet my gaze.

"Too bad Melanie couldn't come," I said.

AJ, who was sitting opposite me, frowned at his phone while his thumbs texted. "We close in a couple hours…she might stop by."

"Cool." I played with a lock of Maggie's hair. "You okay down there?" She had her eyes closed, grinning and inhaling my jacket.

She straightened up. "Yes."

"Awesome." I chuckled, yanking her tighter into my side. "No worries. You're fine." And I wanted to say sniff away, but that'd probably embarrass her.

The glitz and glamor of the night wasn't lost on Kylie or Maggie, first-timers to Midnight Sun. Their eyes were big, and I had one on each arm as we walked in.

"This place is huge . . . and so many freaking people!" Kylie shouted, and she'd already started dancing her way in. I had to grab her before she ran away. Her eyes were bugging out by the crowd alone, and I know her. She probably wanted to go to the dead center of the dance floor and shake her ass; she enjoys being the center of attention.

"V.I.P. is this way…" I steered them clear of the main level, even the lobby, ducking down the side corridor, ushering them up the stairs...while my sister bitched and moaned, but she knew it was "going to be like this".

Mom and Dad were behind us, other family members were in front of us, and we didn't stop until we were all nestled in our private slice of the club.

Once inside, I felt better—having Kylie out of the public eye. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out what would be the best way to hurt Dad or me—even if fucking with our actual family is a no-no, not fair game. Fuck killing us. If someone ever got ahold of Kylie or Mom—one of our women . . .

I knew Dad was thinking the same—his eyes going back and forth—to the woman on his arm and the one on mine. And then his shoulders relaxed the same as mine did when we had a seat.

With one look alone, I knew he didn't approve of my date either. Sure, she's young, but the young ones are fun, and some don't look youthful at all—curvy and built like women with the same mindset as most men.

One would think they'd hold sex back until you committed to them, but they actually give it up faster.

With older women or the ones who know better . . . Shit. They practically want your social, or a copy of your credit report. I enjoy the company of older females, too. Most are phenomenal in bed. They've been having sex for however long, and they fucking know what they like. They have no problems instructing a dude like myself, either.

I'm not talking middle-aged, just those who are old enough to know how it's done and young enough to still want it...morning, noon, and night.

Basically, I can get down with broads old or young—all of them—depending on if I like what I see. I do have standards, and I do _not_ just fuck anything with two legs. I just don't discriminate based on age, and I have limits on that shit, too.

But . . .

Young hearts tend to run free. They're not worried about the future or any of that bullshit. It's all about the moment—how they feel in _that_ instant. There's no prerequisites or expectations. Shit. They're passionate as fuck, too. They think with their hearts—feel with their bodies—not so much their minds. They want to get a nut, and are just as inquisitive and open—again—as most guys.

Dad didn't approve and I didn't want to rub his nose in it, as I had no intentions of deserting Maggie. I pulled her to a different table, across the room from my parents. Kylie wasn't forgotten, but she seemed more interested in Anthony and Eric than her own friend, and our little cousin followed her lead. The group sat on the opposite side of the room, and my sister kept hooting, hollering, and dancing around—like a fairy in some fantasy world garden or something. I don't know—with the wings flapping and her smiling so wide . . . I was happy; she was safe and having a good time already.

"You'd think she never sees people or something," I said to Maggie. "Like we keep her locked up."

"She's a people person—very likeable, agreeable, and she's not shy."

I nodded. "Very true—"

"She said she wants to focus on Public Relations—maybe work with celebrities." Maggie spoke of Kylie, and it sounded like very high regard. At the restaurant, she told me all about how my sister was supposed to turn her into a "lady", turn her into this man-eater. Kylie had done a good job.

"And you?" I was waiting for her to bring up the nunnery, so I could say she didn't look like a nun. It was to be a corny joke, but Maggie would like it.

Her eyes widened. "I have absolutely no idea." And then I realized my date was still in high school.

Eighteen—legal or not, young or not, down to fuck or not—how fucking pathetic was I?

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I don't know." I was honest.

She crossed her legs, turning into me, her knee touching my thigh. "Um…I might go into nursing."

"That's cool. You like helping people, no doubt?"

She smiled. "I do." She flipped her hair, and this was a different side of Maggie. She seemed more relaxed, more open, confident…

She probably wanted my attention since I'd backed off, and I liked that.

Turning, curiosity piquing my interest, I saw what she was looking at. Dame and Amelia had yet to settle on a place to sit, gazing down to the club and standing at the bar. I caught my brother look our way, not once, but twice.

"Still…?" She knew what I was asking.

She shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know."

"Why are you doing this?" I pushed her hair behind her ear.

"It was Kylie's idea."

"You do everything my sister suggests?" Raising a brow, I scooted even closer to her.

Her eyes widened. "God, no. I could never do _everything_ your sister suggests," she laughed.

"Be straight with me. What's the deal with Dame—you're truly interested in him or what?"

"I find him attractive...have had a crush on him for ages...I don't know." Her face fell.

"And how do you feel now? After chillin' with me all night?" My hand snuck under her hair to gently run my finger up and down the nape of her neck.

She sighed, moving around, tilting her head; I was making her squirm in her seat even more. I loved it.

"Hmm?" I wondered if she'd answer my questions.

"Well, right now I'm confused…" She looked up to the ceiling. "I mean, he was really nice that night, but he's not the same. We were drunk when we hung out...but he hasn't been terribly nice to me since. He won't talk to me either—acts like I don't exist. I think—I think I liked him more when I thought he liked me. Now I realize that he _never_ liked me. I built him up as something major in my head—made that night seem like a lot more than it truly was, a chance encounter?" She rambled and it was cute.

"And then you…you're just—you're _you_—Santino." She pointed to me, and yet her eyes were somewhere on my chest. "You, you take my breath away, and when I look at you, really look," she met my gaze head-on, "I can barely think straight." She was fast to turn away. "Crap."

"Whoa..." I didn't know how to respond to that, but it made me smile.

"I talk too much anyway."

"No," I disagreed. "You're honest, and that's refreshing."

"See? I mean...you're being all…and I'm all…" She collapsed back with a sigh, as though she was exhausted.

I laughed, nearly hovering over her. "You're adorable . . . but you need to relax. Can you do that?"

"Can you tell me what _you're_ thinking?" Whether she knew it or not, she was good—looking at me the way she was through her lashes, playing with my tie, her tits nearly spilling over her top because of the way she was half leaning away.

"I'm thinking…I'm lucky to be here with you tonight."

She licked her bottom lip, almost panting.

It was definitely a mixture of both—repression and frustration—and I wondered if she'd ever had an orgasm before, self-inflicted or otherwise. I wasn't stupid. Nuns don't have to be virgins. They just have to take a vow of chastity. I wasn't worried about ruining her for Jesus or anything, and she didn't know what her future held anyway.

For all I know, she could be all Sunday School-like; meanwhile, she's this freak on the low. With Catholic girls, you never know, but I _do_ know because I went to Catholic school all my life . . .

_Virginal, innocent, my fat cock._

"And . . . I'm wishing you weren't hung up on my brother." I frowned, getting closer to her—her eyes were calling me, all bright and shiny and lust-filled. "But I know this is just a game. Right?"

"Um…I like you both."

I grinned. "You can't have us both."

"I don't know if I can have anyone." She held her chest, exhaling.

"Good answer." I sat back, placing my hand on her thigh. "I'm down to play. You tell me when it's too much. Deal?"

"Well, yeah…you can touch me and stuff—"

"Don't say that," I laughed. "Don't tell me that…because I will."

"What if I want you to?"

_There it was . . ._

I had a feeling she knew exactly what she was doing. While I'm as nice as they come, I would fuck her—but I'd never be her boyfriend. It wouldn't look right.

"Wow…my heart is just like…wow." She placed her hand on her chest again.

I kissed her cheek. "You'll be fine. Calm down and enjoy the music…when a waitress comes by…I'll get you a drink."

"I like apple martinis."

"Those are pretty heavy." I pulled her into my side again. "They're sweet—you wouldn't think them strong, but they are...they're kind of like you."

"They go down smooth," she whispered.

"Bet you go down smooth, too." I quickly kissed her cheek again, thinking I could go for one myself—a drink with a side of Maggie.

Then, lo and behold, while I turned to find a server, Damion—Dad's new minion—was coming over with a small drink tray.

And it was filled with Appletinis.

"Mind if we join you guys?" Amelia asked.

"By all means." I gestured to the table, the night getting better and better.

After sliding into the booth-like seat, Dame doled out the drinks, and then we were all quiet while we got comfortable— Maggie and me readjusting ourselves for company, which was odd. We were more into it while no one was watching.

"What should we toast to?" Amelia asked.

"The moon," Damion said, lifting his glass.

"The moon?" Amelia scrunched her nose.

He shrugged, and then kissed her shoulder only to grin—resembling a little boy.

It made Amelia giggle, and she'd never know what it was about.

That day—that epic Saturday—many things happened. Maggie gave me a note to give to my brother, Katie came by, I found out I was going to be a father, and then—sometime between Katie and I fighting and Aro showing up—I handed the note off to Dad. He smiled and read it aloud, and we were alone.

In Maggie's letter, she spoke about how magical the moon was—how it was responsible for lovers and the like, and how mystical it was, the powers it has. Yet, Dame swore he'd never read it. The rest of it . . . it was about how he made her feel—liberated and like a lady, sexy—her heart aflutter . . . some poetic bullshit. I'd listened to my father in a daze, digging her words, thinking them deep and passionate, as he rattled them off. But what she said was pretty; like her, it was very honest and heartfelt.

_If only all women were that up front about things…_

Ever so curious, I wondered if I could make her feel that way. It's ironic. I'm sitting here with Maggie, but her mind was probably someplace else—on my brother. And I didn't know Maggie from anywhere, didn't love her or think I ever could.

I just wanted her . . .

She'd be like a palate cleanser. She made me feel good, happy—like Layla does, and then thinking of her confused me even more.

I never think this much unless it's Katie-oriented, and I was trying my best not to let my mind dwell on her.

_She_ doesn't want me.

Tonight I wanted Maggie, and tomorrow I'd likely want Layla; meanwhile, I probably wouldn't have either.

My behavior might make me a dog.

Maggie's age might make her young.

Layla's new position sort of makes her off-limits. I can't be fucking my managers, because when we stop fucking, they quit.

There's always the possibility of more where anything is concerned these days. I'd opened myself up to the concept of dating, only the idea…when I never had before. I was still unsure about it. In two months, whether I'm ready or not, I'm going to be responsible for another human being. I was going to be a father, so nothing—nothing could be set in stone yet.

But tonight was tonight, and I hadn't gotten laid in a minute, practically a whole-fucking-month. Katie and I only shared two good nights amongst a bunch of nightmares. It was the longest I'd ever gone without pussy, and it was starting to fuck with my mind: the way Layla's ass looked in those pants, the way my dick responds when Maggie touches my fucking arm, like I'm fifteen, and the mere thought of tits makes me come in my pants.

Maybe Maggie would give up this crusade, and I could head down to the main floor—pick up a sweetie and hit up a hotel, let go for the time being.

"To the moon." I sipped my drink, staring down to her.

Maggie wore a frown, following my lead, and I didn't know what that was about.

It bothered me. "Hey." I touched her cheek. "You're too pretty not to be smiling."

She grinned. "Thank you."

"You're name's Maggie, right?" Amelia asked her. "I'm Amelia." She put her hand out.

"Nice to meet you." Maggie reached out to shake her hand.

I was going for nonchalance, the sweetness of the Appletini bothering one of my molars. While I peeped Dame peeking Maggie, I took out my phone to make a note—a reminder to make a dental appointment.

"Everything okay?" Maggie had wide eyes, staring at my cell. "You don't have to leave, do you?"

"No…I just—" I put my phone away. "That was rude of me."

She surprised me by nestling into my side. "So, how long have you guys been together? You make a gorgeous couple." Maggie surprised the fuck out of me again, and Damion almost choked on his drink.

Amelia looked to Dame. "What are we calculating by?"

He didn't reply, focusing on her hair, playing with the strands.

"About a month," she answered Maggie.

"A month—wow," she giggled, and Dame glared at her.

When he slowly focuses, that calculating stare...

I didn't want to know what he was thinking, and I tightened my hold on Maggie—as if his thoughts could harm her.

I'd fucking lay him out, son him again—in front of his girl, and everyone at this club—if he stepped out of line.

He'd met the both of them within the span of one day. And all Maggie and Damion ever did was chill for a couple hours, but Maggie's tone was insinuating something.

I grinned, liking my little pet even more.

"It feels more like a year." Amelia's tone was teasing as she shook Dame's thigh. "Right?"

"Best month of my life." Damion pulled her into his side, and then claimed her mouth.

"Huh." No one heard Maggie but me, and she was fast to look away. "Where's Kylie…?" She stared above my head—her tits in my face.

"She's up here, somewhere." I placed my hand on her hip, my eyes zeroing in on her cleavage, but then she plopped back.

"Yeah…she's dancing over there." She waved her arm. "She saw me."

"You need her for something?" I asked, and I knew I should step up my game—do something to avenge that kiss, but I didn't want it to be obvious.

I laughed at myself—at how into this I truly was.

"What's so funny?" Maggie's hand came to rest on my thigh.

"I was thinking about something." I pushed her hair off her shoulder. "Nothing important."

"Party people!" Kylie announced, drink in hand, and then she eased her little ass between Damion and Amelia, separating them. "Hello, my loves!" She put her arms around them both—Cockblocker Number One on the prowl.

"You having a good time?" I asked her.

"I am. This place is so cool, right?" She looked to Maggie.

She nodded.

"Oh…look at them," Kylie shouted in Amelia's ear, pointing to us. "They so want each other—their body language, how they're inclined..."

Amelia was giggling. "Santino, you never struck me as the cradle-robbing type." There was some venom in her tone.

"Eh…it's an old hobby." I kissed Maggie's temple.

Amelia had wide eyes as she faced Kylie—not expecting that answer.

Fuck it, I thought.

"I'm supposed to turn down the attention of the hottest chick in this club?" I asked.

Amelia mocked looking wounded.

"I love you, Sonny! I love you!" Kylie sang, rising from her seat. "But I love this song more . . . I'm kidding." She landed a wet one on my forehead, moving on and going back over to Anthony and Eric. They weren't dancing or anything, but they both came to life when my sister was near. I was glad—Anthony needed a buffer for tonight. He introduced Eric as his friend and nothing else. My uncle was more than polite to Eric, too, speaking to him, trying to get to know him. Yet, Anthony was still nervous as fuck.

But then I saw Mom, making her way over, and my eyes—my_ fucking_ eyes. What's been seen can't be unseen, and that's when I knew my father was out of his mind. She was practically naked, dressed in red lingerie and a teeny miniskirt, and I guessed she was supposed to be some kinky Little Red Riding Hood.

I took off my jacket.

"Don't bother," Maggie laughed, helping me right it. "She'll fight you."

"How'd you know—" I started, wondering how she picked up my thoughts.

"Hi, guys!" Mom had a drink in her hand, too. "Your father's busy…"

"He is?" I asked.

"Caius just came up."

I looked back. Sure enough, Caius and Nunzio sat near Dad, Jasper, and Carlisle. I thought tonight the V.I.P. room was to be exclusive.

"Alice never came." Mom grumbled. "I was looking forward to seeing her. You guys need more drinks?" She glanced around, and then turned to snap her fingers—indicating we needed another round.

"Feelin' social?" I asked.

"I look hot . . . I got it. I'm going to flaunt it."

"Well, shit." I toasted my half-empty glass to her before I finished it. "Good for you, Ma."

She grinned, pinching my chin. "You look happy."

"That's because I am," I answered.

Mom palmed my cheek but glanced to my date. "Are you having a good time?" she asked Maggie.

"Yes…a lot of fun. Thanks for letting me come along." She sounded so sincere.

"You're welcome any time . . ." Mom chose to sit on the table, turning her back to Dame and Amelia. "My boy just got his heart broken—"

"Ma—" I didn't expect her to say some shit like that.

"Promise me you won't break it again?" She grasped Maggie's hand.

I shook my head, thinking her ridiculous.

_It'd be the other way around._

"It's safe with me," Maggie assured her.

Mom sighed, looking around. "I'm gonna go dance with your aunt—we'll make a Kylie sandwich." She was watching my sister, laughing. "She brings a whole new meaning to 'dance like no one's watching'." She stood up, only to lean into me. "Seriously…go for it. She's eighteen," she whispered.

"Mom…" I grasped her hand, kissed her palm. "Don't worry about me, or…what I do. I'm fine, and—"

"Regardless of the situation—a woman who makes you smile like that...?" She widened her eyes, and I didn't think she was drunk either. "I'm going to dance." Then she left us, and I was glad she kept all of her words hushed.

"Did you want to go dance with them?" I asked Maggie.

"I don't dance."

"Neither do I." I scrunched my nose.

"What was up with Mom?" Dame jerked his chin. "She scolding you…to place nice?" He raised a brow, looking from Maggie to me. "Telling you to keep your hands _off_ the goods?" It sounded like his own personal message to me.

I sighed, shaking my head and looking to Maggie. "Actually, no."

"What?" He acted like he couldn't hear me.

I shrugged, willing to let the subject die down. "Did you wanna take a walk?"

Maggie nodded. "Sure."

I stood up, extending my hand.

"Where you going?" Dame asked. "There's too many people. You should just stay up here . . . But where are you going?" He leaned forward, about to leave his seat.

Internally, I was full of glee. Kylie's plan to make him jealous was working; however, I was done with this charade, wanting to have a good time. Sitting here with Damion and Amelia was beat, especially in this moment when I wanted all of Maggie's attention. "Why you so nosy?"

"Yeah…why _do_ you care?" Amelia asked him, and Dame sat back.

Either way, I pulled Maggie into my side again, and we left the room. She didn't say anything, wrapping her arms around my waist as we walked. No one commented about our departure.

Knowing the ins and outs of this club, I let myself in to Jasper's office.

"What's this place?" Maggie looked around.

"Office." I thought it was obvious with the desk and all. "There's a bathroom in here if you need it…"

"I'm okay." She backed up to the door.

"Hey…I just wanted to show you something," I said, afraid she was scared of being alone with me.

"Oh…"

"Come here." I pointed to where I was standing, and she came willingly. "I'd never do something you didn't like, didn't want me to—I'd never step out of line or hurt you. This is your show—remember that."

Her cheeks were beet red, as she grasped both my hands. "Thank you . . . you're so nice. Is this the real you?"

I smiled, glancing at my watch. "No. I turn back into a pumpkin at midnight." It was ten to.

Maggie giggled. "I'm serious…or do you change like—"

"I'm me—the way I am now—_is_ the way I am." I shrugged. "Take me or leave me . . . Sometimes I get moody." I winked.

She blew out a breath, bringing our hands up to entangle our fingers. "What did you want to show me?"

I brought her hand up to kiss her wrist—letting my lips linger, watching her blush extend to her neck and ears, her chest heaving. I couldn't believe I could have this much of an effect on a woman.

It drove me wild inside, and I hadn't even gotten to the good stuff . . . yet.

Would we ever get to the good stuff?

I had no idea.

"Come on." I turned, going to the filing cabinet to grab a blanket. "I thought—I thought you might be missing a friend."

"A friend?" She was still breathing heavily, seeming confused.

"Trust me," I said.

From there, we went down another corridor, and up another staircase, and then a ladder. We went up to the roof. It was only a few stories high—maybe six, though there's only three floors. The place is just huge—used to be an old warehouse.

"Wow . . . look at it." Maggie jumped up and down, pointing. "It's so big. Like you could pull it in." She yanked the air, giggling.

"You're adorable." I fanned out the blanket. "Sit with me." This time I took off my jacket for Maggie, knowing she might be a bit cold.

"I'm burning up."

Funny thing, so was I.

I folded my jacket, discarding it, and crossing my ankles.

"Why do you carry that?" she whispered, looking down.

I did, too, to see my Glock. "Does it make you uncomfortable?" I'd hide it someplace up here if it did.

"No…just curious. You wouldn't shoot me."

"Of course, not . . . then I might never get to kiss you." I touched her cheek.

She, like, cradled my hand to her face, which was very sweet. "You want to kiss me?"

I nodded.

Maggie grinned, her eyes darting everywhere but to me.

"Hey." I touched her cheek. "If you're not—"

"I was thinking." She came back to me. "You can…kiss me."

"Thank you." And then she waited, but I wasn't ready yet. "I will . . . when you least expect it." I waved a finger.

It made her laugh, and then her eyes fell to my piece. "Are you, um, are you a police officer? Kylie never mentioned what you did."

My brows rose. "I'm . . . an officer of the court."

"A lawyer?" she asked, and I didn't think she'd pick up on that.

"Soon, I will be. I'm studying for the bar."

"Wow. That must be intense."

"Baby," I laughed, just thinking she was the cutest, sexiest… "My life can be intense—the things I get into, but not really. I'm pretty average."

"You're anything but. You're special. I can tell already." She scooted closer. "It's full." She gazed up. "Crazy things are said to happen on Halloween and when the moon is full."

"I bet." I moved closer, too, tossing my nine to my side to hold her.

She leaned back, resting against my chest. "It's beautiful—"

"Not as beautiful as you." Her hair smelled like vanilla, her skin sweet.

"We're not around them anymore. You don't have to lie, pretend to—"

"I'm not," I whispered. "You might think it mystical and powerful, but to me . . . that thing is just a big blob in the sky. You're prettier."

"Mystical and powerful?" she asked. "Did you, um—"

"Yes, I read your letter." My nose skimmed her ear. "Please don't get upset. I liked it a lot." I crawled my fingers along her thigh. "Seriously, the moon's got craters, and like a bunch of gray dust or whatever. It's got nothin' on you, and you're officially a hottie." My fingers brushed her sides. "Kylie did good, but she didn't do much."

She squirmed, giggling. "That tickles."

I stopped, behaving myself, just content to hold her tight, and we became quiet. We heard the traffic in the street, car horns, and voices trailing up. The floor below us vibrated from the force of the music inside.

And it was great.

But just having her in my arms . . . I kept hugging her tighter and tighter as my dick became harder and harder, and all I was doing was studying her cheek, her eyes that stared at the sky, the smell of her hair and skin invading my senses. This was sensual in a way that was very innocent.

She had this appeal about her—

"Maybe we should go back down?" I suggested. The night had carried on a bit. Maybe Dame and Amelia had left, but it was still early . . . Maggie could chill with Kylie, and I could . . . do what I set out earlier. Only now, I'd be finding a chick and imagining it was Maggie.

She sat up, turning around to face me. "Why?"

I shrugged, watching her hair blow in the breeze. "I think we achieved our goal with Dame...you could have fun with my sister."

"Oh." She nodded slowly, hugging herself. "Does, um, my age bother you?"

"Does my age bother _you_?" I nudged her with my leg. "I'm twenty-seven."

She smiled. "I can't imagine…what a guy like you is doing with a girl like me. Like…how I snagged your attention—if I really did." She held her chest. "You seem interesting and like…you could have anyone here." She frowned, looking down. "I talk too much."

"No." I lifted her chin with my finger. "But you do have my attention . . . and you probably always will now. I've noticed you. You know? No more flying under the radar for you. Like I said, you're officially a hottie." She'd mentioned something earlier about Kylie helping her with that, too. She didn't mean to tell me, but it sort of came out. "You still thinking about my brother?"

She gulped a half-gulp, like her mouth was too dry. "Not since—not since we were downstairs, and that's only because he was across from me. Now _you_ have my attention."

I nodded, liking that—digging her honest answer.

Out of nowhere, her face fell, and she shivered.

I draped my jacket over her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"I'm happy to be here with you, and—"

"Tell me." I rubbed up her biceps, trying to warm her.

"I liked Damion for a while, and now I can't understand why—why—I don't anymore."

"Rebound," I said. "I'm going to guess you like me—"

"You're cool." She nodded.

"Yeah, and I'm on your mind, and then with the next guy—you'll forget about me." I stared into her eyes again. This close I could see that they were a mixture of blue and green.

"That's the thing…right now, in this moment, I don't know if I could ever forget you. But Kylie said—" Her eyes widened. "I can't tell you that."

"Yeah, you can." I poked her side. "What'd she say? I promise I won't get upset."

"She—she said, you're the type of guy girls use." She looked incredibly sad. "Like, for certain things…you don't commit, which makes you good for…I don't know, but I do know. She said you could never be my boyfriend, which is—it's disappointing, but expected, and that makes it okay?"

I had no idea how to reply to that shit. That didn't make it untrue, because it was, and I wasn't upset.

"You're mad."

"No," I said, leaning into her. "She's right . . . Can you be honest about something else?"

She nodded, that little pink tongue making a quick swoop on her bottom lip.

"What do you want?" I asked. "What could I do for you? Give me a clue, because…I'm a little confused here. You're—you feel—" I, Santino Cullen, was tongue-tied. "You're giving me mixed signals, and I don't want to hurt you—do something to scare you."

"I, um, I—my heart beats so fast when you look at me like that."

I chuckled.

"And when you touch me—" That had my attention. "I just—my stomach. Um. I think I know I really like you, not like I liked Damion. Um. It feels different when you..." She swallowed, making an "ung" noise. She was nervous. "I want—I want you to kiss me—here—under the full moon. It'd be special in a way . . . a way I could only dream of." It was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard.

"All right," I whispered. "Like I said, this is your show, so—it's your call…" I trailed off, leaning forward to gently place my lips to hers. They were soft and dry, and I didn't deepen it, and she made no move to back away. Her eyes were closed.

Taking a chance on fate, I closed my eyes, too—palming her cheek, pulling away to lick my lips and come back, giving her a few short kisses in succession. My stomach was filled with excitement—just because I was giving this to her, fulfilling a simple, silly wish.

When I backed off, still unsure, she kept her lips pursed—had my shirt fisted, and I'd just noticed that shit. "Wow." She cleared her throat.

I sighed, huffing out a breath. "Yeah."

"Your face is red." She touched my cheek.

"So is yours…" Maybe I was embarrassed, maybe I felt a little sad, recalling a kiss just like this one—one that happened almost fifteen years ago.

And in this moment, sitting here with Maggie . . .

I almost felt like weeping—incredibly disappointed with life in general, because I was very happy for that brief amount of time while we were kissing. But I also felt awakened in some way . . . I wasn't sure.

"Was it bad?"

"No." I quickly snatched up her hand. "That was—" It woke something up inside me. It was sensual, it was sexy and chaste, and it drove me wild. "That was great."

She sat up, getting on her knees and coming toward me. I thought she was going to kiss me again, but she wiped under my eye.

"It's the wind." I felt like such a pussy. What the fuck was wrong with me? I couldn't even remember the last time I cried, or teared up. It just happened.

She smiled brightly, and then wrapped her arms around me.

A grin broke out on my own face, and I hugged her back, adjusting her so she sat in my lap. "You're an amazing girl, Maggie."

"You're amazing." She placed her hand on my hair, weaving her fingers into it, massaging my scalp. "It's soft."

I hummed, nuzzling my nose to her cheek. "Can I really kiss you now?" I wanted those lips again.

"Okay…" She leaned in first.

This kiss was nothing like the last one—where that one was like ice, this one was fire. She wasn't shy—opening her mouth, letting me explore hers while she pulled on my hair.

Maggie was overzealous, which overwhelmed me.

When she moaned into my mouth, things went a little crazy—in the best way. It was still her show, and she must have been overcome by something. She was just doing, kissing my neck, biting my earlobe, going back to my mouth, and all I could do was pant up to the moon—thanking that fucking gray blob for being so fascinating.

"Stop." I placed my hands on her shoulders to control myself, stop myself from—

"Am I doing it wrong?" She pushed her tits into my chest.

I laughed. "No, no . . ." I tried to even out my breathing.

Maybe as a teenager . . . maybe I had more patience for this, although back then it seemed like I didn't have any. Maybe it was because—back then—I didn't know what came next, how it would feel.

"We're, um—" I spoke, while she started kissing me again. "I just—" She bit my lip, sucking it back into her mouth, only to moan again. Then she went to my neck. "Christ...You're _very_ good at this." I acquiesced, running my hands up her back.

"I Google and write about kisses like this . . . the butterflies, the fireworks. I didn't think it was real—possible." She nipped me just under my ear.

"Whoa…" I tilted my head, that shit felt too fucking good, and she was correct about the butterflies. Fuck me. I couldn't even remember the last time those fuckers invaded my stomach.

"It's—it's supposed to be instinctual—just do, don't think." She patted my cock, like testing the waters. "Was that okay?"

"D-do whatever you want." I cleared my throat, tilted my head, giving her all access to my neck—her mouth felt so good there. "Go with your instincts." I was willing to be her test subject, while I also tried to think about anything—except sex, or else she'd get, not only kissed, but fucked under the full moon.

"You can touch me. I mean, you can do something." She let her weight drop, wrapping her legs around me, and I thought that was a very bold move on her part.

"Where?" I tried to focus, swallowing the lump in my throat. "You—you tell me."

"Why are you nervous?" She pulled back and stared at me. "You're making me nervous. If I'm doing something-something wrong..."

"No, baby . . ." My hands held her cheeks. "Everything you're doing is great. I'm enjoying myself—too much." I had to replay my words to see if they made sense. "You're a great kisser."

"Good!" She crashed her mouth to mine, our teeth knocking together as _she_ almost knocked _me_ the fuck over. She stuck her tongue down my throat, and I sucked hers back—wanting it, needing it—and then she kissed along my neck again.

"Fuck," I breathed, her kisses making me insane, and I was seconds away from throwing her down and . . . "Baby... stop."

"Why?"

"Uh," I shook the mental cobwebs away, "when I usually—" she scraped her teeth along my jaw, "do stuff like this, I don't think—like you said. I just do, and I can't do that with you."

"Why not?" the temptress asked, rubbing her hands up my chest, going for my tie. It was loose already and she pulled it off, staring into my eyes as she started to undo my buttons. ". . . tonight is special." I think she told herself. "We should take advantage of it . . . I'm wet." Now that shit was aimed at me, her bottom grinding into my cock. "You're so hard. I didn't know they got that hard—feels like real wood," she giggled. "Big, too." Her gaze flashed to mine.

A growl vibrated through my chest, and I quickly brought her down to my side, hovering over her fast—thinking I'd get her off, and then go_ jerk_ off in the bathroom. If that wasn't a flashback to my teen years, I don't know what would be.

"You're a man—a real man . . . my God—Good Lord in heaven." She moaned, her hips coming up to meet mine. "Your arms and shoulders are strong." She rubbed up my biceps. "Your chest—"

"What do you want?" I asked, running my finger over the tops of her breasts.

She squirmed, something close to a whine coming from her mouth. "I'm on fire." She tore my suit jacket away, and her skin—her arms, her chest . . .

"I know, baby," I whispered, staring down at her. Christ. She was beautiful, just like that—head tossed and turning, mouth partially open, her body . . . "Tell me how to put it out."

"I just—I need—Um." She pulled me down to her, placing her mouth to mine. I groaned, pushing my cock onto her, running my hands up her legs, enjoying the smoothness of her skin, sneaking my hands under the fabric to palm her ass.

"Oh my God," she said into my mouth.

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't be sorry. Don't be sorry," she chanted, shaking her head.

"Okay." I couldn't help it; a laugh escaped me.

She blew out a large breath, calming herself and sitting up.

I was disappointed, thinking we were done, although this was torture . . .

I withdrew my hands.

"Can you, um…" She lifted her hair, half-turning her back to me. "Get the zipper."

I was still between her legs, leaving one hand on her hip, as my other reached. Loving the slow burn as her back was exposed to me, I kissed the small birthmark on her shoulder blade; her skin paler in the moon glow. My nose skimmed, enjoying the smoothness of her skin.

She just had beautiful-fucking-skin.

Maggie shivered, turning back to me, but now she was nervous—I could see it in her eyes. "Um, no one ever—" She hugged the top to her chest, looking down. "I've never, um," she held the fabric even tighter against her breasts, "No one's ever seen me."

I searched her eyes, willing her to trust me, willing her to _show_ me. And I waited for her, at a loss for words and eager as fuck.

When she started shaking, that fire turning to embers, I placed my lips to hers—giving her corset a gentle tug with my thumb and forefinger, barely pulling it.

She let go of it to wrap her arms around my neck, her body not as rigid, relaxing within my embrace—trusting me.

I kissed every inch of exposed skin, going over and over her neck, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts without looking—and I avoided her mouth until she melted back, closing her eyes.

She was there—at that crazy place. I knew, because I'd been there for a while, and I wanted this so badly . . .

"Maggie…"

"Yeah?"

I didn't answer her, scooting lower to finally see her tits.

For a man who fucking sees them all day long, I was _over_-the-fucking-moon to get to these bad boys. "You're gorgeous." They weren't big at all—crazy shit I'm used to—maybe a C cup, her nipples—these teeny pink things. When I took one between my teeth, licking between them, Maggie fucking…She screamed, her body jolting and holding my head to her chest.

I smiled, suckling and tweaking the other with my fingers.

She kept moving her hips. "Oh my God, Santino—oh my God." She clawed at my back, and I hoped she'd draw blood.

I loved it.

Moaning against her skin, my lips trailed down to her stomach, but then I looked up to her—pausing, waiting for her to open her eyes. They were half-hooded, lazy, and yet so full—they said a lot, and I didn't think I needed to ask . . .

"Can I take this off?" I was talking about her bottom piece—whatever that short skirt thing was.

She nodded, placing her hand to her heart.

"You okay?" The wicked grin on my lips couldn't be masked.

_I was like a pig in shit right now._

"Don't say no," she whispered.

"What?" The image in front of me was gorgeous; I wanted to take a picture.

She wet her lips. "Don't say no."

"Okay." My eyes trailed down, knowing I'd do anything she asked me.

"M-make love to me."

. . . except that.

"Um…"

She was coming back down from that cloud, looking around. When I realized what she needed, I grabbed my suit jacket and helped her put it on. "Tonight's special . . . and—but I understand if you don't—don't want me."

"I want you." It was possible I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted any woman. "But are you sure? I—I—just—This would be your first time?" I guessed.

"Yes…" Her eyes filled with tears.

"No, no, no, no—" I fussed over her, holding her cheeks, and softly kissing her lips. "Don't, please, don't."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry either." I smiled. "My first time? It was—it was really special. There was a bed, and—I actually sprinkled rose petals, and we were so in love, but scared . . ."

She smiled. "That sounds nice."

"Exactly." I pushed her hair back, out of her face. "I want you—you have no idea how badly, I do. Maggie, I'm not lying when I say you're beautiful, and I—"

I couldn't believe I was being undone by Girl Scout, Virgin Mary. But who the fuck was she going to tell? I had no reason to lie or hold back—not with this stuff. And the way I felt in this moment . . . how happy I was . . .

"I _could_ make love to you." I wasn't sure if she knew what I meant. "I wouldn't want to fuck you and bounce—you deserve better than that. You—my life is so fucked right now."

"You're having a baby with your ex."

I nodded. "Kylie told you." Looking around, I grabbed her corset. "Lemme help you put this on—"

"No." She stopped my hands, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I wrote about this—a rooftop in the fall." She kissed my cheek. "This would be—it'd be—it'd be amazing."

"Um, don't you want to save it for—"

"You are special." Her lip quivered. "You're kind, sweet, nice . . . you're handsome, and when you touch me—I think I'm going crazy."

"It hurts," I whispered, turning to capture her lips.

She groaned a whine, pulling away. "Kiss my neck...please."

I grinned while I complied, licking, nipping, and kissing, and I wanted to leave a mark.

But I couldn't.

"No, no matter who or where, it's going to hurt," she said through rapid pants. "Santino, please—touch me." Her hips came up to meet mine, and I let my weight drop, taking her into my arms, coming up to push against her hard—loving the way her eyes widened.

"You like that?" I did it again, creating friction, and we were playing with fire again.

"Hmm, yeah." She pushed back against me, widening her legs.

And I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by.

She frowned when I sat back on my legs, but smiled when I rubbed my hands along her thighs.

"You trust me?" I asked.

"Yeah." She leaned up on her elbows.

After unhooking her garters, making quick work of them, I pulled her bottoms away from her hips—her legs came together as I pulled them down and over her heels, and then I loved the sight of her feet touching the ground, her legs spreading.

Maggie's chest heaved, her breasts going up and down under the jacket while she stared at her body, and then up to me.

She trusted me enough—that much was apparent—to surrender, to be as helpless as she is and give me all this control.

It was a gift I didn't intend on squandering. "You're beautiful." She was natural—not bare, nor was there a landing strip—just a tiny bushel of curls.

She grinned, goose bumps sprouting and spreading. "I'm getting c-cold."

"Don't worry." I brought her leg up to kiss her ankle. "I got you." Slowly, my lips went up her leg until it bent at the knee, and she threw herself back down.

Biting the inside of her thigh made her squeak, and going higher—nuzzling my nose—made her relax, her hand coming to rest on my head.

That move—her fingers weaving into my hair—spurred me on, and I placed a chaste kiss on her mound. "You trust me?"

"Uhuh," she breathed.

Licking my lips, I got comfortable—my dick hurting from lying on the ground—and resting on my elbows, bringing my finger up to softly run it along her slit.

"Holy—"

Looking up to her, she was biting her fist.

"Don't . . . I wanna hear you." I made her stop that.

She made a noise, agreeing, nodding, and staring down at me.

Maggie might have been cold, yet there was nothing but heat coming from her pussy. Spreading her lips, my finger rolled along her clit and trailed down. She was soaked, her heady, delicious scent hitting my nose. "Have you ever, uh, had—"

"No," she said. "No, oh my God—don't stop."

I nodded, twirling my finger and increasing pressure. "You need to breathe, even if you think you can't—you need to scream, breathe, and relax." I smiled, kissing her thigh.

"Okay. Okay. Okay."

My finger went lower, my lips got closer to hers. What I didn't expect was her to jump when I placed an open-mouthed kiss on her clit—softly sucking for the briefest of seconds.

"Stop!" she shouted. "It just—it just—"

"Breathe." I inhaled deeply and let it out to show her.

"It felt too good. I couldn't take it."

"Baby, just breathe."

She mimicked my motions, making me grin.

"Can I…?"

She nodded, melting back down, and there was sweat dewing on her forehead.

Moaning into her made her body shake, and I dug that. I enjoyed this immensely, licking every inch of her pussy, not even focusing on technique—just needing to—my finger circling her hole. When she bucked her hips, my fingertip entered her.

She was a virgin, snug as shit, and I was afraid—terrified that I might not fit.

"Keep—keep—keep doing that." She pulled my hair, clamping her thighs onto my head as I focused on her clit, my finger knuckle-deep, massaging, probing, hoping to open her up. "More…" I didn't know what she meant, but I introduced her to my middle finger—going around and around, in and out.

"Hmmm." I groaned, and I couldn't get enough of her pussy. It was perfect; she was delicious.

"Yes…yes…oh my God…yessss!" Her voice was shaky and loud, her thighs threatening to suffocate me, as she rolled over to her side. I wouldn't let her get away from me, following her. "Oh!" She came around my fingers, her fucking hand fisting my hair—rubbing her pussy into my mouth where I just flattened my tongue.

"Whoa…" She blew out a breath, her body still shaking wildly, and I withdrew my fingers to suck them back into my mouth. "I think—I think—yeah. My God . . . that was—"

I couldn't find words to say either—my mind blank, staring down at the crazy beautiful mess below me. Her hair was wrecked, she looked spent . . . "You okay?" I found something to say.

She was wobbly as she tried to sit up, get on her knees and crawl to me. "That was amazing, and—" She kissed me deep, and I snuck my hands under the jacket to hug her naked body to me tight. "Hmm—that's what I taste like?" She stuck her tongue down my throat again, and I brought her back, hovering fast, grasping her hips and pulling her closer.

Maggie withdrew her arms from my neck to fumble with my belt and zipper, and I thanked God for that. People always joke about blue balls, although I'd never truly experienced it—being aroused to the point of pain before, before tonight.

"Your belt—" It was stuck, and I groaned in aggravation, undoing my pants quickly. Nevertheless, I didn't do anything else, just opened them with the hopes that she'd touch my cock.

It was official; I was fifteen again.

"Can I see it?" she asked into my mouth.

I paused, leaving her—bringing my pants down to take out my dick.

Her eyes went wide, her head tilted. "Can I—"

"Yes!" I rushed out.

Her fingers were cold as they touched the head.

And she had no idea what she was doing, but she was driving me crazy. "Wow, the skin is soft...but it's like a rock." I barely heard her as she poked along my shaft.

"Grab it." My voice was strained.

"Okay." Her touch was too delicate, so I took her hand, wrapping it around my cock—showing her how to tug.

"Fuck." My back arched, my lips touching her hair. Maggie's hand felt fantastic. "Lie back." Lightning fast, I reached for my wallet.

She threw herself down, her legs wide as she softly jacked my dick. Maggie could hardly reach me, but my hips moved in time with her touch.

"You still…?" I showed her the condom.

She gave me a nod, her thighs shaking again.

"Shhh…it's okay." I placed my lips to hers. "It's going to hurt going in . . . um—" She had no idea how much I wanted this, needed this, how eager I was to be inside her.

"It's all right." She held my cheek. "I know."

Putting the condom on was easy, having the balls to fuck her was a whole other matter. I was scared, because . . . I had no idea. "You tell me to stop…if you want me to. Okay?"

"I won't—"

"No." I leaned on my arm, staring down to place a lingering kiss. "You tell me."

"Okay," she whispered, holding my shoulders.

"You need to breathe . . . remember." I gulped, and I couldn't believe I was still hard with all this thinking going on. "You need to relax, or it's going to hurt more."

She inhaled, exhaled, and pulled me down to her mouth again—which was my best refuge yet. I kissed along her neck, going down to her breasts, and then back up to search her eyes. "Maggie…"

She was turned on again, slightly thrashing, and I decided to go back to what I was doing—while I also grabbed my cock, pressing it to her clit and sliding down, placing it at her entrance—deciding to let instinct take over.

When she was relaxed, mewling, sighing, my thumb twirling around her clit again—my hips moved forward. She gasped, tightening, and I groaned—swearing her pussy was going to chop the head of my dick off.

"Relax…shhh." I soothed, breathing into her ear. "You want me to stop?"

"No." She calmed, her hands going from my shoulders to cup my neck. "Just—"

"Baby...look at me." I held my breath, staring into her eyes as I slowly, and painfully, entered her. Maggie didn't make a sound, her gaze never leaving mine. She was soaked, I glided right in, but there was a lot of resistance, obviously. "Breathe." I blew out my own shaky breath, watching tears spill from the corners of her eyes. "You're okay." I kissed each one away, licking the salty taste from my lips; pausing and letting her adjust, but I'd picked up a slow rhythm with my thumb again—knowing that by now, she had a pleasure and pain thing going on, and I hadn't even fully entered her yet. "Talk to me," I said, my voice octaves higher than usual. I had to clear my throat.

"It—I feel—too full—I don't know," she whispered, her body rigid, like she was afraid to move, so I did.

Very slightly, I slid out to come back, claiming her mouth again. She kissed me, the vigor of it going from slow to fast as I picked up the pace a bit. I stretched my neck, my hips and eyes rolling, swearing I never felt anything as good. "Fuck…you don't know how good you feel, baby. You have no idea." My heart swelled, my body in a state of euphoria, and I tried to maintain myself—didn't want to lose control. "Shit." I was still going too slow.

"You feel . . . it doesn't—doesn't hurt as—as much." She spread her legs a little more.

As I let out a groan, I grabbed them, wrapping them around my hips—going deeper with each thrust.

And the way she was pulling my hair, kissing and biting on my neck, even if she was still afraid to move . . .

All too soon—_a lot_ sooner than usual—I whispered, "I'm—fuck." I came, going as deep as I could, my hip bone nearly digging into her ass, I held her so tight, went_ too_ deep—letting go, planting my palms on her head to get closer, and Maggie moaned out her pain.

"I'm sorry—" I grabbed the base of my cock, making sure I had the condom, as I pulled out—and I was still coming, but I hated that I'd caused her to cry. "Are—you—you—" My heart was threatening to beat out of my chest.

Maggie was curled on her side again, holding her pussy.

"Hey…" My cock forgotten, I lay behind her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Thank God." I smiled, kissing her shoulder, my heart filled with joy. I was fucking ecstatic, yet worrisome. "Are you sure?"

She turned over in my arms, and she still had tears streaming down her cheeks, but she was smiling. "I just had sex."

I nodded. "You did."

She giggled into my chest, all of which just made me happier. "It wasn't bad."

"Thanks." I kissed her forehead.

"No, I mean, like, it was amazing." She sat up, only for her face to crumble. "It was beautiful. I feel—I feel so much."

I wasn't being a douchebag, but I let her get a good cry out while I tore off the condom and threw it away from us. There was blood on it and the blanket below us. It wasn't a monumental amount, but it was there, and I had no idea what was normal or not. I've only ever been with one other virgin, and that was a very long time ago. Even though, that only other time, I'd lost my virginity, too, I couldn't recall a lot about it anymore.

Then I fixed my pants, tucking in my shirt, as she wiped her eyes—coming back down.

"You all right?"

She sniffled. "Yeah."

"Good." I grabbed her bottom-skirt-thing and helped her back into it. She let me dress her and straighten up her hair, combing it with my fingers while I'd occasionally kiss her. Those lips . . . her pouty mouth kept calling out to me, and I wanted to keep her smiling.

Her makeup was a mess, but she was still gorgeous, we'd take care of that before she saw anyone.

"How—how long have we been up here?" she asked.

I shrugged, and all I knew was that it was still dark out. My phone had various missed calls—all from family members wondering where we'd gone—but it was only a little after two o'clock. I bet they were all still here—drunk as skunks and having a great time.

"Have a drink with me?" I helped her up from the ground.

She smiled. "Yeah."

Taking her hand in mine, we went back inside. I stood guard outside the bathroom in Jasper's office, noticing no one had even come in here. I bet they figured I actually left the club with Maggie or something.

I smiled, shaking my head, as Maggie left the bathroom.

"Before you ask…I'm okay," she giggled. "I had sex."

I laughed, gathering her into my arms, while something important came to mind. "We did—we had sex." She let me kiss her silly.

"But . . ." Now I _was_ going to sound like a douchebag, and I knew it. "I don't have a problem with your age, but others might—especially given how close you are to Kylie now, and my family. We should keep this between us—something special—that only _we_ know about."

She nodded. "Okay. I get it. My parents would kill me."

"Right . . . exactly." I was glad she seemed cool with that.

"Can I tell Kylie, though?"

"Yeah…just tell her not to tell nobody," I laughed, kissing her—because she had a mouth I couldn't stop kissing. "You ready to go back out there?"

She straightened my tie for me. "Yes."

"How's your...?" I looked down.

"Achy but okay. I promise."

"Good." I kissed her forehead. "Let's get that drink."

Feeling like I was on top of the world, we trailed back up to V.I.P., only this time she had my jacket on. Her steps were slow, so we didn't speed up there. She said her legs were still shaky—and I thought that should be her new nickname, Shaky. She made me feel that way, and she's always shaking . . .

To my complete and utter astonishment, we weren't bombarded with questions when we'd made our presence known. The party was still going strong—people laughing, drinking, and Kylie was still fucking dancing.

"There you are!" She was the first to shout for us. "I'm so drunk! And I missed my Maggie-Mags!" She leapt at Maggie, and I made sure they didn't fall to the ground in a fit of giggles.

"Where'd you go?" My father sidled up to us. "I'm responsible for her, and you just take off?" He seemed drunk, too.

"We went for a walk," I said.

"Walk, my ass!" Kylie spanked herself.

"Oh, Jesus." Dad groaned, slumping his shoulders, but his comment was in reference to Kylie.

"Come on, Skip! Let's do another Jager shot thing!" She jumped up, and then hung from my father's neck.

I chuckled, massaging his shoulder. "Let go . . . have fun."

He smiled at me, mouthing, "You, too", before he ushered my sister to the bar. Mom was there, just as bombed as Kylie—singing along to the music with Alex.

The room was filled with more people from the organization, and I made sure to stay away from those tables—giving curt head nods as we walked. Tonight, I didn't want to associate with any of those people, or be dragged into something. Tonight, it was about having a good time.

"Dude, I haven't seen you all night." Anthony slapped his hand to mine, as I kept my arm draped over Maggie.

"Where's AJ?" I tried to look around, but it really was crowded now, the lights dim.

"He was here . . . looked for you, too. Melanie showed up . . . they're downstairs dancing, I think."

"Cool," I said, reaching for his drink. He let me have it, and it was a vodka tonic—not exactly my thing. "Try this." I gave it to Maggie.

She coughed, handing it back to Anthony.

"Sorry." I kissed her hair. "I thought you might like it." As I picked my head up, I locked eyes with my brother, but he was fast to look away. "We'll be at the bar." Wanting to avoid Dame and any drama at all costs, that's where we went—where I asked for a bottle of Jack, and an Appletini for Miss Thing—Shaky, who couldn't stop smiling.

"I thought you were supposed to be, be—" Mom was slurring her words, "the vampire tonight."

I sipped from the bottle, keeping Maggie in my periphery. She was laughing with Kylie and Alex. "That was before you called and asked me to be Prince Charming."

"Yeah, but you gotta a bite." Mom poked my neck, and I didn't know what was there, nor did I care. She gasped. "Did Maggie give you that? Little Hoover, you!" She slapped Maggie's ass, making her jump, and that bothered me.

"Look at yourself," I said, taking her drink away. "You're supposed to be—" I wasn't sure what to say, but the way she was dressed, the level of drunkenness . . . It was too much.

"I'm a lot of things, Santino!" she shouted, getting scrappy with me and sounding like my father.

"What's good?" Dad asked, yoking her into his side.

"He's being a party fucker-upper, Skip!"

Dad winked at me. "He's just looking out for you, love. You're a drink away from puking. Slow down."

Mom fixed her hair, standing straight. "I'm not drunk."

"You're a fucking liar!" Alex was just as sloppy, joining us and nearly knocking Mom over.

"Where's Ed?" I asked.

"Oh my God!" Alex screamed, and my heart leapt.

"He's with Carlisle." Dad pointed.

Alex held her chest, leaning into Mom.

"Remember when you thought you lost him at, at the Bronx Zoo?" My mother was about to piss herself. "So, you got him a leash…"

Alex was bent over, almost drooling on herself. "He used to—he used to—" She couldn't even talk.

That's when I started laughing, because, my family knows how to fucking party. It was something to be proud of.

"Hi." Maggie pulled on my sleeve.

"Hey." I put my arm out, and she nestled into me. "You want another one?" Her glass was almost empty.

"Sure." She finished it off, turning for the bartender, keeping her back to me.

I ordered her another one, placing my arms on each side of her, trapping her to the bar. In this light she was even prettier, if that was possible. "I want to kiss you so bad." I breathed into her ear. "You don't even know."

She reached back to rub me over my slacks. "I think I do."

"Hmmm." I sucked her earlobe into my mouth, which made her squeal.

"You're making me ache even more," she said.

"Good." My hand spanned her stomach, holding her to me, but then someone tapped on my shoulder.

It was my mother. "You guys are a thing? La-like for real?" she asked.

I lightly pinched Maggie's side, and when I caught her attention, I winked. "We're getting married," I said. "I asked and she said yes."

"What?" Mom was just shocked—blank face and wide eyes. "Edward!" she screeched.

"Oh my God, shut up." Alex pushed her.

"Don't push me." Mom pushed back.

"Just stop!" Alex got her again.

"Bring it, bitch!" Mom slapped her chest twice quickly with both hands.

I wrapped my arm around her waist and hoisted her up to a barstool.

"Look at you! Swooping in like Superman!" She smiled at me.

"Stay there," I said.

When she gave me the finger, I knew it was all good, especially when the song changed and the ladies screamed.

"I had more fun on the roof," Maggie said, sipping her drink.

I bit my lip, just smiling down at her, because I did, too. "What do you want to do?" I guzzled the Jack—I would appreciate a nice buzz at this point, but would settle on getting a hotel and snuggling with Maggie.

She furrowed her brow, placing her hand on her stomach. "I'd actually like to sit down."

I laughed. "Just sit down? Pick a seat."

She grabbed my hand and led me toward the only empty booth we could find.

"Try this." I handed her the bottle.

"No," she declined.

"Smart girl." I relaxed back with Shaky and Jack, and I never would have imagined my fucked-up, boring day ending this way. "I'm glad you came tonight." With my arm around her, my hand snuck under the fabric of her top, my fingers tweaking her nipple.

"Me too." She melted into me. "Kiss me."

Not giving a fuck anymore, I was about to, but then . . .

"Where did you guys sneak off to?" Amelia came sliding into the booth opposite us, and where Amelia goes . . .

"'Sup?" My brother was appraising me again, his eyes settling on my right hand, which withdrew itself from Maggie's corset. "What's that?" He jerked his chin.

"Where'd you guys go?" Amelia asked again.

"We went for a walk," Maggie told her.

"Dude—" Dame hit my shoulder.

"What—nothing," I said.

Damion seemed hesitant, but then sat next to Amelia.

"Wait…I gotta pee." She stopped him.

"You just went."

"And I gotta go again—move!" She pushed him, and I laughed—the most mundane of conversation amusing at this point.

Damion got up and let her out of the booth, and then sat back down.

"You're not coming with me?"

My brother cocked a brow, his gaze a bit vacant. He was tipsy, too. "Do I have to wipe you? I will, I mean, you lemme know."

Amelia shook her head, stumbling away.

"Go," I told him. "You're going to let her go alone? Even if we're in V.I.P., fucking look out for your girl, man."

"It's right there. I can see it from here . . . Why don't you go with her?" He stared at Maggie.

"Um…" She looked up at me, and I actually wanted a moment alone with Dame.

"Go 'head…" I stood up to let her out. "I'll be right here." I stayed so I was facing the bathrooms, leaning on the back of the booth where Dame was sitting. Then I watched her go, her gait wide and her stride slow.

"What are you doing?" Damion asked me.

"Nothing. I'm chillin'." I sipped from the bottle.

"Well, what the hell _was_ that?"

"What are you talking about?" I played stupid.

He shook his head. "When Amelia comes back, take her to the bar . . ." He sat back, loosening his tie. "This shit with Maggie isn't sitting right." He was making up a bullshit issue. "I should talk to her."

"No," I said.

"What's the big deal?"

"'Cause you're going to fuck with her head." I shouted. "You're not interested, you got a girl, just leave her alone—"

"She's staring at me, sneaking into the backyard—"

"That was before . . ."

"Before what?" He stood up to face me.

"Before me." I spoke slow and stared into his eyes so he'd understand me.

"Oh, you're going to turn this into something it's not? I'm happy in my relationship. I love Amelia—"

"Whoa!" I laughed. "I don't even know what you're talking about anymore. You don't have to defend your shit."

"I don't know either." He grumbled. "I'm with Amelia; meanwhile, when I see Maggie . . . I've been avoiding the house because she's always there with Kylie."

"That's why? The truth?" I asked.

He nodded, pushing his hair back. "I don't even know what to say . . . but I have to say something. Please, get Amelia another drink."

I shook my head. "You're not going to talk to Maggie. Fuck, bro, don't even look at her. You're in love? Chill with your girl, and let _me_ worry about Maggie."

He looked around himself. "Why—since when do you give a fuck? I don't understand."

"Since—" I paused, watching the ladies exit the bathroom.

"Just do me this favor."

"No," I said, hopefully for the last time.

He cocked a brow, smirking. "No, shit. You're interested?" He pointed to me. "She's a virgin, which really isn't your type. You should just stick to the girls at the club."

"You should just stick to thinking about your own girl—"

"She's all I do think about!" Maggie and Amelia actually went to the bar by themselves. "I want to tell Maggie to back off."

"You don't have to—I took care of it." I guzzled, guzzled, guzzled that Jack, my brain finally a bit foggy. Damion was grating on my nerves, and, now, I had to piss. But I knew—once I walked away, my brother was going to . . .

"Come to the bathroom with me."

"You need me to hold your cock? Why does everyone have to go the bathroom together?" He laughed, plopping back down into the booth.

Since Amelia was around, lingering in the area, with Maggie—no less—I went to take a piss. I actually had to concentrate, my cock a little sore, but I was fast to run back out after washing my hands.

By now, they were all by the bar, Damion standing behind Maggie, leaning his nose close to her hair.

I reached around him for her hand, pulling her away.

_Motherfucker thinks he's slick._

"What'd he say to you?"

"Who?" she giggled, slamming back her drink.

"Damion."

"Nothing." She smiled up at me. "Why?"

"You feeling better?"

"I'm fantastic," she sighed. "I'm amazing. You're amazing." We sat in the same booth as before. "We're all amazing!"

"Good." I kissed her cheek, draping my arm around her. "After tonight, um . . ." I tilted my bottle back for liquid courage. "Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?" It'd been ages since I asked any woman that.

"Me?" She looked confused.

"Yes, you." She was so fucking cute. "Tomorrow, or the next day, I dunno. We'll do something. It doesn't even have to be dinner. We can hang out."

"Like a date?" She reached for the Jack and actually took a sip. "That's nasty."

I laughed. "It can be whatever you want it to be." I just knew I wanted to see her again. "A date." I nodded.

"Yes . . . but . . ." She put her head down.

"What is it?" I turned her chin up to me.

"I'd have to meet you somewhere. You can't just—pick me up at my door, this older guy." She was definitely tipsy, talking so carefree.

"Well, Bay Ridge is a small neighborhood . . . Remember those complications—things that made my life complicated?" I asked.

She nodded.

"I just can't have you showing up at _my _door. Understand? Although I'm sure you know where I live—and I don't mean my parents' house."

"Your ex lives with you."

"Yes," I said.

"Do you still . . . um, with her?"

"No." I think I knew what she was getting at.

"But . . ." She blushed, looking away from me. "Um—"

"Don't hold out on me now." I tickled her side. "Talk to me." I felt like I'd bared my soul to her for some reason, that we had…something.

"Can you pick me up from school one day in your car?" Her words were slurred.

"I can do that," I agreed.

"It's a really nice car and everyone thinks I'm a loser—"

"Fuck them." I pulled her into my side for the hundredth time, hoping she'd stay there. "After you graduate, you probably won't see those people ever again."

"True," she mused.

"Trust me. Everyone goes their separate ways—" I stopped talking when Aro came sliding into the booth.

"Wassup, Sonny?" He didn't look happy.

"Nothing." I shrugged. "You having a good time?" He was dressed like a Roman soldier, which made it hard for me to take him seriously—that red feathered hat thing on his head, strap under his chin.

"Not really," he said.

I laughed my ass off. "You look like the fucking _Trojan Man_!" I sang it like the commercial.

He gave me a tight-lipped smile, and then looked to Maggie. "Hon, can you give us a minute?"

"Stay here," I told her, leaving the booth. "What's up?" I wanted Aro to follow me.

"Sit." He pointed down. "You go." He stared at Maggie, jerking his thumb.

"Just—" I stood back, letting her leave, wishing we'd never left the roof. It all happened in a matter of seconds, but while Maggie kept looking back at me, I peeped Dame get closer and closer to her. Aggravated, I sat down. "How can I help you?"

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked. "My daughter's at your crib, sleeping in your fucking bed, and you're here—traipsin' around with jailbait over there. Please, give me a fucking reason, as to why—" he stabbed the table with his finger, "I should _not_ fuck you up right now."

I shook my head, thinking he wasn't up on current events. "Aro, we're not together. We're just friends. It didn't work out—"

"I know all that. I still find it highly disrespectful. She's still living with you."

"Look, your daughter didn't want me. She's living with me because she has no other place to go—"

"No, you just wanna have your cake and eat it, too."

I pursed my lips. "All right. I don't want her to go, but only because I have plans—plans that'll benefit us in the long run once the baby gets here."

He just kept shaking his head.

"What?" I asked him. "We're not together."

His gaze slowly came back to mine. "You're an embarrassment. You embarrassed me, Katie, yourself—"

"Why? Because of these nosy fuckers?" I waved a hand.

"Yeah, because somehow . . . it got back to Katie—what you're doing. Why I gotta be on the phone with her for an hour, while she cries, because of your dumb ass? It's like youse are back in high school."

"Somehow?" I smirked. "You mean AJ? Your son has a big mouth and should close it."

"Doesn't matter how she found out—"

"No, it does." I shrugged. "Loose lips sink ships. You feel me now?"

"That's not the point—"

"It is," I said. "Because whether it's secret info or not—none of these motherfuckers would have opened their mouths. Who talks to Katie? No one but your son. He got her upset for no reason, not me. I was here minding my business, and if Katie truly gave a fuck? She would have accepted my marriage proposal, or told me I couldn't fuck around—she never did."

"Well, she does give a fuck." He was pissed, sitting there grinding his teeth. "Just go home and settle your shit."

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, "because now_ I_ don't give a fuck."

"Sonny—"

"While we're at it, why's AJ even in my business?" I asked. "You better watch. Next he'll be telling Aunt Lee-Lee all about Layla—your favorite Eclipse girl."

"We're not talking about me—"

"Why the fuck not?" I asked. "We're getting personal." I waved a hand between us.

"Go home. She's upset. Just go home and clean up your mess—"

"No. I'll leave when I want to. Katie hasn't even called me, so I don't know what kind of show she's putting on for you and your son. Don't you understand?" I laughed at myself and the situation. "You're a sensible guy, Aro. Please." The last thing I was going to do was plead my case to Aro. He can either understand or get the fuck outta my face.

"If I didn't say anything . . . I bet you would have gone home and crawled into bed with her, like nothing was wrong—"

"Whoa . . . what I do when I get home is abso-fucking-lutely none of your business." I chuckled. "And what's wrong? I'm having drinks with my sister's friend. Since when is that a crime?"

"And now you're going to sit here and lie to me?" He inched closer to me.

I widened my arms, throwing myself back.

"It's also embarrassing when everyone's coming up to congratulate you, on becoming a grandfather, but your supposed son-in-law has taken off with…whoever the fuck."

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you. I'm sorry things couldn't work out, but I did everything I could." I brought my voice down. "And I took a walk—nothing happened."

He threw his head back and laughed. "You're covered in glitter, lipstick on your collar—fucking bite mark on your neck . . ."

"You're acting like I cheated on you. I did nothing wrong. We're. Not. Together." I said it even slower this time.

"And you're going to go home, let Katie see you like that?" He gestured to me.

"Maybe she should." I shrugged. "My world—my life doesn't stop just because Katie's hormones fluctuate. She'll go back to not giving a shit tomorrow. Trust."

"Looks like Shorty moved on to Dame, though." He stared away from us, and I didn't even bother to turn around. "Maybe she's into couples . . ."

"Shut your mouth." I was so sick of him. "You wanna swing at me? Make a scene? Fucking do it so I can get on with my night." I drank from my bottle.

"You guys broke up—like what? A week and a half ago?"

"No, we_ told_ you guys a week and half ago. Can you stop? Are we done?" I was ready to swing at him, although I dug the concerned father routine. "I never, ever, during my whole entire life—never have I disrespected Katie. If we were together—"

He shook his head. "You can't see my point."

"And you can't see mine!" I shouted.

"You pushed her to leave Raul—"

"Oh, leave that motherfucker out of this!" I was ready to get up and walk away.

"He was a nice guy—"

"Aro," I chuckled without humor, "Please."

"She's my daughter. I'll never apologize for looking out for her—"

"And I respect that, but you don't know all the facts. If hating me—breaking _my_ balls—makes you feel better about the situation, then by all means." I widened my arms. "But I've asked you and my family the same shit—let Sonny and Katie worry about Sonny and Katie. I'm taking care of her. I'm doing the right thing, regardless. We live like roommates…" I paused, "and given that—given your own personal history with a living arrangement like that, I expect your privacy and discretion—especially since we work together."

He wasn't honoring our "don't ask don't tell" policy, although I never needed it before, like I don't need it now.

"I'm single. What Maggie and I did or didn't do is no one's business."

He put his hands up. "I guess you told me."

"Don't get cunty—"

"Shut your fucking mouth. I'm so tired of it."

I didn't say a word, silence—by the grace of God—falling upon us.

While I sat there and drank, he sat there and stewed. He was angry with me, when he had no reason to be.

"Shorty's walking funny—you stuck your cock in that little girl?"

"Whoa!" That came out of nowhere. "I don't know what your real problem is, but you need to go settle that shit." It was obvious—based on his watered-down argument, regardless of if Katie really called him crying, which might not have even happened—that I wasn't the real source of his misery.

He reached out, yoking me up by my collar, and I slapped his hands down. "You really wanna do this?" I asked, standing, ready to lay his old ass out.

"You're not even worth it," he said, which was unlike him, and if he really had grounds to be upset with me, I'd be knocked out by now. "You're a sad man, Santino."

"Now I'm sad…" I actually looked around for Dad, wanting him to come check his friend.

"Katie's seven months pregnant…with your baby. She's living with you." He poked my chest. "I still can't believe you just left her to come chill here."

"You don't know what you're talking about." None of this was any of is business, yet I was being very nice about this. "But with trying to placate Katie, I haven't seen my family in a while. I've hardly seen them at all since Katie's living with me. And she was more than welcome to come, but she didn't want to. She didn't ask me to stay home either—"

"There's still a chance you'll work shit out. You could show some respect . . . In my eyes, you're still doing her dirty." Then he just abruptly turned and walked away.

And that was when my father finally decided to drop by. "What was that about? He looks pissed."

"Where were you five minutes ago?" I asked.

"Across the room, watching." He pointed.

"Right," I laughed. "He thinks I did Katie dirty, but we're not together. You get it, right?"

"It's not what you did," Dad said. "It's how ya did it—very publicly and around Katie's friends and family." He patted my back. "Get it now?"

Honestly, it still didn't sting or register.

I massaged my forehead. "Can I stay at the house tonight?"

He shook his head. "Maggie's sleeping over."

"You don't trust me to go to my old room and sleep?" I asked. "And I bet Dame is staying there, too, now, right?"

"Amelia will be there—"

"That'll stop him . . ." I looked over to Amelia, who was nearly passed out, leaning on the side of a booth. Dame and Maggie were chatting it up at a neighboring table.

"Fuck." Dad stared at the same scene I was. "Did'ju fuck her?" He slapped his hand on my chest to stop me from walking away.

"You know what?" I smiled. "I did, and it was fan-fucking-tastic."

"That's little Maggie, man . . . I didn't want Dame with her, and _I definitely don't_ want you with her. She just turned eighteen, for fuck's sake. She's Kylie's friend—"

"So you equate Maggie with Kylie. I get it." I rolled my eyes. "Between Mom, Kylie, and even Maggie herself . . . You mean to tell me, I can have the keys and the gas, but I can't drive the car? She's not your kid."

"Get away from me." He pointed. "I don't even wanna look at you."

Groaning and drinking, I walked right over to Dame and Maggie. I had no shame, was genuinely curious as to what they'd be talking about for all this time. "You wanna leave?" I sat next to her.

"Okay," she said.

"Whoa…where you going?" Dame asked.

"I dunno . . ." I was honest. "Just not here."

"Oh." Dame nodded. "I grab Amelia and we'll—"

"No," I told him. "You're not invited." I pushed Maggie's hair behind her ears. "We can do anything you want."

She grinned, holding my hand to her cheek. "I'm supposed to sleep over—"

"I know, baby." I kissed her temple. "But you don't have to. We can duck out, do something. Just us."

"What the fuck?" my brother shouted.

I ignored him, a small smile creeping on my lips. "Unless you wanna stay here and talk to him." I jerked a thumb to Dame.

"No," Maggie giggled. "Let's go."

A bright smile was on my lips now, excited to be able to spend more time with her. "Cool—"

"Can I talk to you privately?" Damion asked.

"What now?" I stared at him, and then to Shaky. "Can you give us a minute? Don't disappear. We're leaving in five minutes." I pecked her nose.

She scrunched it, smiling widely as she stood up, still holding my hands. "I'll just…" Maggie tilted her head—just away—before leaving the table, and I think she was getting used to this shit by now. She went right over to Kylie, and they started whispering back and forth. When my sister's wide eyes met mine, I knew Maggie'd told her what we did.

And for someone who needed to speak with me, Damion hadn't uttered a word. "What?" I asked him. "Like I said, I'm leaving in five."

"Sonny, she's a kid—"

"Get the fuck outta here with that shit. You're like a dog with two bones!"

"What are you gonna do? Run away with her? Dad—her dad, they'd hunt you down," he laughed.

"She's old enough to vote, join the army, smoke; she's old enough to smoke my cock—"

He was fast with the Aro move, grabbing onto my collar.

"Really?" I asked him, wishing a motherfucker would at this point.

"She's a good kid—don't fuck with her," he said, letting me go. "Why do you think I kept my distance? It's not right."

"You're telling me what's not right?" I pushed him away from me, and he came flying back at me.

He got in my face. "You're going to use her—spit her out, and then—"

"No, bro . . . you don't get to care. You don't get to worry about her." I stepped closer to him. "Worry about your own girl—"

"You kidding me with this shit?"

"No, I broke _into_ that shit . . . understand? That makes _her_ mine—that means, _you_ step off. You don't talk to her; you don't even fucking look at her." I seethed, damn near close to clocking his ass out. "You hear me, Dame? I don't know what games you're playin', but she ain't interested. She's mine—"

"What's going on?" Kylie wedged herself between us.

"Br-broke into?" Damion stuttered.

"You heard my words; now heed my warning," I said, taking a deep breath to calm down.

"Guys, come on…" Kylie pushed us away from each other, and Damion was the first to swing.

As I ducked his fist, I pushed Kylie out of the way, and then knocked his ass flat onto a table—squeezing his neck when he was on his back.

There was a flurry of movement around me, and I was torn away from him before I could even say or do anything more. "Relax!" Dad was in my face, Carlisle and Anthony holding me back.

And Kylie was helping Damion sit up.

It was comical.

"What the fuck is up with you?" Carlisle whispered in my ear.

I shrugged him off, looking to my father. "Keep Damion away from me."

"I think it's best you left," Dad said.

"I was thinking the same." I smoothed down my shirt.

"Don't even think about leaving with Shorty…"

Gnashing my teeth together, I held my forehead, held my breath.

"Fuck, Sonny. I don't know what's so special about her, but she better be at _my _house before your mother wakes up."

Suddenly, I was grinning at my father—couldn't believe he'd cave like that, when he'd never, in my whole entire life, done it before, let me get away with something.

"Thank you," I said.

He patted my back as I went to seek out Maggie.

She was standing by the bar and she seemed nervous—likely because of the scuffle.

But as soon as I put my hand out . . .

She took it.

"Are you okay?" Her eyes trailed about my chest, settling on my face.

"I'm good. Nothing happened." I kissed her knuckles.

"You're so strong..." she sighed. "You just—like you slapped him away like he was a fly or something." She stepped closer, rubbing her hands up my torso.

I grinned. "I work out a lot."

"I bet." Her face was red. "What was that about?"

"You," I said. "Regardless of what he said to me, I can see right through him. Your little plan worked like a charm."

She looked down.

I lifted her chin. "You should be smiling."

Maggie shook her head. "It was all for fun." She shrugged a shoulder. "You guys fighting—"

"Happens all the time. We're brothers." I chuckled.

"Either way, I'm not worth it."

"You're wrong." I kissed her forehead. "But if you still—if there's a chance you still like him—" I didn't know how to continue. Maybe she was just listening to my sister, used me to lose her virginity, and nothing meant anything to her.

"After...after the roof—I mean, how can you ask me that?" Her chest touched mine. "I can't explain the way _you_—you, Santino—the way you make me feel." She grasped my other hand.

"All right." My smile was so wide. It likely lit up the darkened room. "Did you want to leave, or stay here?" No matter how much I wanted to chill, I wasn't going to make her.

"Leave," she whispered.

"Let's go."

Tucked into my side, we left Midnight Sun without another word to anyone. The main floor had cleared out some—close to closing time. Then we were on the sidewalk, and I was watching out for cabs.

"Where did you want to go?"

She shrugged, entwining our fingers. "I don't know," she giggled.

"We could go to a hotel, but…" I didn't want to seem presumptuous.

After all, we'd already fucked, and I was content to cuddle, just hang out for a while, needing to just fucking relax and let go. "You decide—are you hungry?" That idea came to mind. "We can hit up a diner, and then . . . by that time Kylie will be home."

"My clothes are there—"

"I can buy you new ones. I don't want you to worry about some stupid shit like that." Okay, so I really wanted to hit up a hotel here in Manhattan, and stay away from Bay Ridge. I'd take her to Barney's in the morning, spoil her ass rotten before I brought her back—whenever that would be. I didn't give a fuck about the shit my father said. He'll forget, not give a fuck by morning.

"What?" She thought that was funny. "You don't have to—"

"Hey." I held her tighter. "I'd want to, and you can't wear this tomorrow." I looked down to her skimpy outfit. "Not for nothing, I bet you're freezing." I pulled my jacket that she was wearing closed.

"Well, Kylie said we'd be going from cars and then into places..." She looked to the street.

But then I held her close, the tightest I could, roaming my hands down her back. I didn't know what had come over me . . . I wanted a do-over, a chance to make up for what we did on the roof, but we didn't have to fuck again if she wasn't up for it.

In the end, Maggie was agreeable with whatever I wanted to do, which made it easy once we'd gotten a taxi.

"Waldorf-Astoria," I told the driver.

**Thank you for reading.**

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

**How was that? I've never written a "virgin" scene before. (shrug) I still think it's hot. SONNY is hot!**

**Edward is up Next!**


	20. Gotcha

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**WOW! The response to chapter 19 was mind-blowing. LOL. I've read each and every review, and I would like to thank you all for leaving me . . . _most of you_ left kind words...*snort* while some of you did not like the Sonny/Maggie pairing. It's okay. I just hope you all stick around. They are but one part of this story/crazy cast of characters. THANK YOU!**

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**VERY important A/N at the bottom. Please read. **

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Twenty: Gotcha**

**Edward POV**

_**F**_or the first time in a long time, I was home alone. I'm a grown-ass man, and yet I wanted to utilize this time—while Kylie and Bella are at the salon—to maybe pop a porn into the DVD player and jack my cock. It'd been a while since I did that—had time to just sit back and relax.

Since I didn't want to get caught . . .

Bella acts like me whacking off is cheating on her with my hand…or an indication I don't get enough.

Sometimes, a guy just likes to grease his own weasel and watch some ol' nasty shit.

When I found out Bella and Kylie were staying until the salon closed—_I'd called under the guise of bitching about my dinner, because I bitch about that a lot_—I lined up two shots of Jack, and then tried to figure out what video I'd watch. It'd be something kinky—something Bella wouldn't watch but would giggle at and critique. She doesn't appreciate a select few of the fine films I have—like that lesbian orgy, vampires from space one. It's the lesbians I dig. The rest is just an added visual bonus. I don't understand why my wife doesn't like it. She enjoys that fantasy crap.

It was quiet, too, which made me twirl around the kitchen like a child.

_Ahhh . . ._

Silence.

With excitement in my heart, I skipped up the steps, and then the motherfucking doorbell rang.

All I could do was stare—stuck, disappointed—while I wondered who would dare disturb me. The world doesn't know I was about to masturbate, but fuck . . .

When I saw who was at the door, I was fast to open it. It was Mr. Sullivan—Maggie's father. "Hello," I said.

"Is Maggie here?"

I shook my head. "No. Everything okay?"

"Lord in heaven . . ." He held his forehead.

"Sir?" I inquired.

"I know she's been spending a lot of time with your daughter. They run in and out of our house, too—"

"Was she working today?" I never bothered to ask about Maggie being at the salon. Why would I?

"I—I—" The man looked close to tears. "I don't think so."

"Come in." I opened the door wide for him. "Have you tried calling her?"

"Maggie doesn't have a cell phone." He kept his head down. "We haven't seen her in days . . . Well, her mother is staying with Maggie's grandmother—she's ill."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.

"The Lord will be taking her shortly . . . I've been working 'round the clock, and then I have commitments at the church. Our daughter has been ditching Mass, but…as children get older they sometimes go against the grain. We're trying to-to have faith in Margaret." He had a bit of an Irish accent or something.

I nodded.

"I trusted Maggie was at school, or here. You and your wife have been very kind to let her stay here while her mother is out of town."

"Excuse me?" I, personally, hadn't seen Maggie since Halloween.

He didn't elaborate about that, still very upset. "I didn't think—and now—I haven't seen my daughter in days." He met my gaze. "But I figured she was here…then the school called. She hasn't been to school in two days either—it was a teacher checking up on her. Supposedly, I called her out sick two days in a row. _Is_ she sick?" The poor man was beside himself.

"Hold that thought—don't get upset. I'll call my daughter." I gestured for him to follow me up the steps. "Please, have a seat."

"Are you sure she's not here?" He craned his neck, trying to see down the hall.

"She's not. Please—relax." I pointed to the settee to keep him from wandering around.

He politely declined, choosing to pace around the great room instead.

My leg bounced, my temper getting the better of me as I called the salon. Bella picked up. "Is Maggie there?" I asked.

_"No…"_

"Well, where is she?" I kept my voice down.

_"How should I know? She works per-diem, Edward."_

"Put Kylie on—"

Bella groaned, but did as I asked.

_"Yellow?"_ Kylie sounded cheerful.

"Where's Maggie?" I asked.

_"I…home?_" My daughter was lying.

"Try again," I said. "And why does her father think she's been staying here?"

Silence.

"Kylie, I swear to Christ—"

_"MaybeBecauseShe'sBeenStayingWithSonny. I gotta go._" She hung up on me.

"Motherfuck—" I was ready to throw my cell across the room, but I had to calm down. Maggie's father was here—and if I was in his situation . . . Fuck. I should loan him a nine and take him to Sonny's crib.

But I thought Katie was staying there? She could be staying with Aro or something. When he gets pissy with Sonny, he avoids me, too—that's the fucked up part about our kids dating and having problems, and . . . having their own kids.

I haven't seen Sonny since Halloween either . . .

Hearing about him from others—actually, that he's been canceling sit-downs and such—I shrugged it off as he left Eclipse before I got there, or we'd missed each other. He's hardly been at the club, which was why I didn't question or call him when he canceled meetings. I knew about him not being around regularly. He was supposed to be slowing down for a bit.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes?" I whipped around, my hands full of my hair. "Oh…Maggie's working. She'll—she should be home by—" I forgot what fucking time it was now. "They close at nine."

"She's at the shop?"

I nodded. "I don't know why she missed school . . . She hasn't been here during the day. I promise you that."

"I knew this would happen." Motherfucker was beating himself up. "Her mother was always very strict—now, we give an inch and she takes a mile."

"Kids do that," I whispered, sticking my hands in my pockets. "I can call the salon—tell my wife to send her home right away . . ." Having a hunch he wouldn't ask me to do that, I called his bluff to get him out of my house.

"No, thank you. I'll see her when she gets home. Thank you." He shook my hand, and then I walked him out.

As soon as his ass crossed the street, I grabbed my keys—getting into my car, while I also called Sonny's cell phone.

Driving the few short blocks, I'd managed to call him eight times—all calls unanswered. I should have called Eclipse, but I was already jumping up the stairs to the apartment. "Open up." I banged, hearing music playing.

"Who's there?" It was a female.

"Edward—Edward Cullen. Is Sonny—"

Katie opened the door for me, and she looked even bigger than when I saw her weeks ago. She had tearstains on her cheeks. "I thought you were Sonny…"

"Where is he?" I asked, walking in.

She sniffled. "I don't know. I haven't seen him in days. He comes home while I'm not here," she cried.

"Don't cry." I patted her back.

"He leaves cash, gets groceries, and leaves me vague notes . . . Like I'm a dog and this is my kennel." She spat, her tone laced with venom.

"Whoa . . . relax."

She rubbed her stomach. "He's not answering my calls. I called my dad—"

"You did?" _Well, I thought that was just great._

"He said if he saw him…he'd send him home. I have an appointment today, so—I'm hoping Sonny didn't forget."

"What time?" I looked to my watch, seeing it was a quarter to five. Maybe I could drop her off, and then go find Sonny.

"5:15 . . . If he's not here already . . . I'm just going to cancel my appointment. I don't feel like going anyway—we were supposed to do this stuff together!" She hiccupped. "I'm sorry."

"He'll be home tonight," I said. "You have my word, but..." Okay, so a large part of me wondered why she cared. She blatantly ignored Sonny while he was here . . . but it's just like a woman to want him when he's gone.

"You relax. Okay?" I leaned over and kissed her hair. "He'll be home tonight."

Then I was a flash of movement running down the steps. Believe it or not, the tanning salon is opposite Sonny's apartment, on the other side of the avenue. He could actually keep an eye on it from his window if he wanted to. You'd think Katie would waddle in there from time to time, but she doesn't.

And that's an issue for a different day, I thought as I ran across the street.

"You!" I pointed to Kylie.

"Edward?" Bella stared at me.

"Get over here." I called our daughter over with my finger.

She kept her head down as she walked closer.

"Where's Maggie?" I knew if I found Maggie, I'd find Sonny—or vice versa.

"Sonny's really happy—" She had the nerve to smile wistfully.

"What?" Bella asked, coming from around the counter.

Kylie put her hands up. "My name's Paul and that's on you-all."

"My name's Dad, and if you don't tell me, I'mma be mad!" I pulled on her ponytail.

"Edward!" Bella slapped my hand away.

Kylie wore a pout, and I cautiously glanced at all the customers waiting in the lobby.

"That's child abuse!" Kylie bitched.

"You're an adult—so it's just abuse, and if you don't tell me—" I waved my finger.

"Call her—"

"Maggie doesn't have a cell phone," I said.

"Sonny bought her one."

"What?" Bella and I asked in unison.

"What's the number?" I dug out my phone.

Kylie did the same, pulling up a text log.

I tore the phone out of her hands. "Hey!" She grabbed for it.

Since I can't follow those things well anyway, I just handed it back to her—while I tried not to beat the info out of her. "You know where she is," I said.

Kylie bit her lip, looking to Bella and then to me.

Bella advanced toward Kylie. Our daughter doesn't fear me, but Bella has the ability to scare the shit out of her—same thing with the boys and me. "Tell your father where she is, or I'll make your life so miserable—"

"I spoke to her this morning." She rushed out. "Maggie—she said something Walrus. I couldn't make it out. They were—they were doing it, and I hung up." Kylie shrugged.

"The Waldorf," Bella said.

I gritted my teeth, holding my breath, my body shaking.

"Edward…calm down." Bella placed her hands on my biceps. "We have customers…"

"Daddy, are you gonna go there now?" Kylie was smiling. "I miss Maggie-Mags...Can I go with you?"

"Yes," Bella said.

"No." I shook my head, because I'd never clip Sonny in front of his sister, and Bella knows that.

"Mom trumps you...I'm getting my purse." Our daughter skipped to the back.

I took a step forward, for Kylie, for her neck, and I wasn't even sure—

"Edward?" Bella whispered.

"I'm going to explode." I gritted out.

"Deep breaths." She puffed her cheeks, exhaling as she ushered me into the break room.

"Did you know?" I asked her.

"No." She snorted. "I figured since Damion and you have beef, and now Damion and Sonny have beef, that's why no one was getting together. You boys have your secrets—"

"Just stop." I didn't want to fight—fighting with Bella was the last thing I wanted to do.

"And now you'll have beef with Sonny. I shouldn't count on seeing anyone until Christmas or until Dame has no clean underwear and he's tired of chafing!" She was yelling at me anyway. "Fix this shit, or tell me what's going on, so I can!"

I didn't say anything, wishing a motherfucker would . . .

"And Sonny's seeing Maggie…what's the big deal?"

"The big deal?" I asked. "Sonny's almost thirty years old!"

"He's twenty-_seven_." She rolled her eyes.

"And he's sleeping with a child!" Now I was just sad. "_You_ think this is okay? Carlisle pulled a stunt like this back in the day—"

"Candace was sixteen...and before they met up again, had Ant, it was a one-night stand."

"Still...Sonny with the different women." I groaned. "Look, I get it. I was the same way before I met you—"

"Sonny..._my son_, is nothing like that old Carlisle." She scoffed. "Sonny respects women."

"My brother taught Sonny everything he knows as far as broads are concerned..." I trailed off.

"My son is not a douchebag. Maybe he sleeps around...maybe he likes sex. Fuck. _We all do_," she sang. "He's not committed. He knows how to treat women. And she's not a child. She's the same age as Kylie, so you_—only you—_see her as a child, but they're young women." She picked lint off my coat.

"Shorty's _in_ high school. Sonny graduated _ten years ago!"_ I didn't know why she had no problem with it. "Neither one has been home in days . . . and Little Miss Tramp's been skipping school—"

"Now she's a tramp?"

I ignored her.

"Maggie's not a whore," Kylie said.

"Get!" That was all I could say to her, and she ran away. "Our twenty-seven-year-old son is shacked up at the telly with a CHILD, and neither has been seen in days. Sonny has a baby on the way, and he's buying his girlfriend a cell phone—motherfucker probably doesn't even have a crib yet!" I ranted.

"She's eighteen, and now that I know her . . . I mean, I was against Dame being with her, but she was seventeen then. Regardless, it's a passing fling." Bella waved a hand. "It makes him happy now, when Sonny's been miserable for months. They're not breaking any laws…"

"Ha!" I shouted. "I wish it was that simple."

"Your personal rules don't count." She grumbled, fluffing her hair. "Furthermore, I can't believe _I'm_ okay with this and _you're_ not."

Bella stared me down. "Sonny and Katie aren't together . . . I was upset at first. But what's he supposed do? Wait around for her like some dog, waiting for her to throw him a bone...? Not my son." She rolled her neck, the 'tude coming out. "And Aro's just a hypocrite. He lived with Lauren for months while he was fucking this one or that one . . . Then he runs off and gets married in secret in Hawaii . . . while the ink isn't even dry on _his_ divorce. You see Aro—" She waved her finger. "You tell him if he places a hand on my kid, I'mma pop a cap in his ass."

And my anger was gone, because now I was trying not to laugh at her.

"Also, Katie is _just_ like her mother . . . miserable, crying wolf or playing the Saint card. Fuck that." Now she was waving a fist. "Katie cheats on her husband, leaves_ said_ husband because she's carrying _Sonny's_ kid—puts him through all this emotional garbage over a bullshit issue, manipulates him, but my son is a the bad guy...? I don't fucking think so. She likely realized she just…the feelings weren't there anymore. How else can she just turn her back?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

"It's best we let them work it out."

"Ha!" I pointed at her. "Look at you—pulling this high and mighty bullshit. You're all in their business—gossiping with Alex all the time."

"Get out, 'cause now you're pissing me off." She pushed me.

"Kiss me."

She grinned, pecking my lips. "Don't be hard on him—you can't help who you fall for. Plus, like I said, I think this is a fling. Let him have his fun. You know how Sonny is—he's like you—he's _not_ like Carlisle when it comes to women and relationships. He probably wants to spend money and dote, and Bitch Katie is probably too proud."

"There was a time when you were too proud—"

She shook her head. "I was poor, and you never get something for nothing. I was afraid of the power—"

"Shut up. I'm leaving." I placed my lips to hers, while she laughed into my mouth. "I want a blowjob later...and we watch Vampy Hoes from Mars."

"Go!" She pushed me out, and Kylie wore a grimace. "Yes, I blow your father." Bella waved her away, too.

I threatened to pull my hair out before I even reentered the car.

"Can I drive?" Kylie asked.

"No—"

"Why?"

I groaned. "Because we're going into Manhattan—"

"Oooh, the city!" she laughed, entering the car. "Can we go to Saks?"

"No." I joined her, placing my seatbelt on and starting the engine.

"What if we shopped for Mom?"

I paused, thinking about that. Maybe we couldn't do it beforehand, but afterward...? It might calm me down. I love buying Bella shit because she never buys anything for herself. "Maybe another time." Heaving a sigh, I reached to put some music on.

"Maggie's so lucky . . . I wish Gio was rich."

I snorted, forgetting about the radio. "You don't wanna know the filthy things Maggie's doing for those gifts. I'm not calling your friend a whore, but if she wasn't doing anything . . . she wouldn't be _getting_ anything—"

"Hell...I do filthy things for free! Fuck it. Gio should buy me shit—oww." Yeah, I yanked on her hair again. "I'm just saying…"

Before I kicked her ass out of the car, I turned to face her. "Kylie, baby girl—" I went to touch her cheek, but took my hand back—afraid I might strangle her. "You don't ever have to buy me a birthday gift or a Father's Day gift—ever again—never, ever, ever again—if you just stay quiet—while I drive."

She opened her mouth to speak.

"No." I waved a finger. "Think of how much money you'll save—and how many ugly t-shirts I don't have to pretend to wear."

She gasped.

"Please," I begged. "We both know I'm not the World's Greatest Dad!" I mock punched her shoulder.

She folded her arms across her chest, looking out the window. "I don't wanna talk to you anyway. You're on a roll!" She barked. "In a few hours, _all_ your children will dislike you." She stuck her tongue out.

And I reached for it.

"Th'addy—what the hell?" She pushed me.

And I sighed, collapsing back, because she was right.

Damion fucking despises me—thought he was going to be a hit man or something special. But the only interesting job I have him doing is collecting, at least that shit was fun for me—and he can't even do that shit right. He comes back empty-handed, "They didn't have the money," so I have to send him back with another one of the guys and a fucking bat to get my motherfucking money.

He doesn't think that logic makes sense. If they don't have the money, beating them won't make people produce it.

That motherfucker's wrong.

You'd be surprised how big an incentive a broken leg is.

_People pay me._

Damion doesn't like chillin' with the other low-men. He's dating Amelia, and they're all pigs who serial cheat on their girls.

He's not fitting in at all—gives me a hard time _all the_ fucking time; meanwhile, he's hardly ever around. Damion is too busy with school. And that's why he doesn't get along with those other dudes. My son is a lot smarter than them. He's on a whole different level education-wise.

Damion still wants to do what he wants when he wants to do it.

And I'm not giving in—not one inch.

"You're a mean, miserable man! And I know you get laid—"

"What?" I looked to Kylie.

"I hear you guys all the time. Do you know how emotionally scarring that is?" She was fucking with me.

"Shut up—"

"Mom's a screamer."

Okay, so maybe she has heard us.

"Oh, can we go to Eclipse?" she asked.

"What?" I shouted, and I didn't even know she knew Eclipse existed.

"You gave me my first Jager shot . . . you can pay for my first lap dance." She batted her eyelashes. "And I wanna feel a silicone boob." She gasped. "Can you get me implants?" She pushed her chest out.

"Get out!" I pointed. We were still parked in front of Sonny's house.

"I was kidding! You can't take a joke. My God…" She sniffled, and I leaned over to see if she was really crying. She wasn't. She was faking. "Why are you being so mean to me?"

"I'll give you one hundred dollars if you don't say another word—"

"One-fifty." She wiped her eyes.

"Deal." I put the car in drive.

"Can I say one more thing though?"

I put the car in park. "What?"

"I love you."

I jutted my lower lip out. "I love you, too, baby." I pinched her cheek.

"And I'm silly . . . I talk a lot of smack, but . . . I just do it to get your attention." She stared out the window. "I'm not nasty."

"I know." I nodded. "You say what's on your mind—you have no verbal filter, and that's what makes you honest and endearing."

"You think so?"

"I know so." I wondered if we were done now.

"Well . . ." She paused. "Can I say one more thing?"

I gestured for her to continue.

"I gain weight in my ass, and I want bigger tits."

I fell forward, banging my head against the steering wheel.

"That's all . . . If I didn't get the rest out, it would haunt me forever. You can go now . . . I won't say anything more."

I just stayed there, waiting, because there's _always_ more.

"What's the point of us having money if we never spend it? We never even go on vacation. Give it to me . . . Mom with her crap." She grumbled.

I smiled at her. "_I'm_ wealthy…and you don't wanna know the things I've done…to get the houses, the cars, the ability to cater to some of your whims . . . Maybe you're like this—this outspoken because you like to get a rise out of me. But trust me when I say, I've seen it all, I've done it all, and _I've got that fucking t-shirt._ You don't surprise me—you annoy the fuck out of me. There's a difference. I also tend to sugarcoat for you . . . so know that I love you. But lastly, I want you to know that I'd sooner put a hole in your _fucking_ head before I got you a pair of tits_. Capisce_?!"

Like I said, Kylie doesn't fear me. She blinked, wearing a hint of a smile. "What if I was really, really flat-chested? That's just cruel—"

"You are my child, which also means I can cut you off whenever I goddamn please. One fifty, and I'll buy you a new purse."

"But—"

I shook my head rapidly.

"Fine." She finally gave up.

**_/=/=/=/=/=/_**

Bella and I haven't been to the Waldorf in years, and I didn't know any of the workers. When I approached the desk, I was told that Mr. Cullen didn't want to be disturbed—he wasn't taking any calls, and the douche at the desk wouldn't give me a room number.

It's not like I could pistol whip him, making him tell me, or try to finagle the upper-hand.

Kylie was with me, all a bright-eyed wonder, staring around—staring at all the different people, really. I don't know what's all that fascinating about other people—strangers.

But I know, despite my daughter's big mouth, she truly is sheltered.

"Look, this is cheap!" She held up something for me to see from the gift shop.

"Get over here now." I pointed to the ground.

She frowned, putting the bag down before skipping over.

"Send Maggie a text message," I said.

Kylie dug her phone out of her coat pocket. When the cell came out, I saw that the pocket was ripped something awful, and I wasn't sure if it was supposed to look this weathered—old. She's had this coat for years, but if she needed a new one, she'd buy one, right? I worry about stupid shit. But it wouldn't surprise me if Kylie saved her money for pocketbooks or shoes, forgoing a winter jacket. I want my baby to be warm.

"This warm enough?"

She actually sniffled, her nose still pink from being outside. "Yeah," she sighed. "It's my favorite coat—had it for five years. It's tight now," she frowned, pulling on it, "but I won't let Mom throw it out . . ."

"Okay."

"What do you want me to ask Maggie?"

"Tell her that you're here—you ran away from home, and you need Sonny. Make sure you say you've run away—Dad's a prick. You're here in the lobby…alone." Even if he'll only worry for five minutes, I was glad. He'd get a little bit of his own medicine. A large part of me just sympathized with Mr. Sullivan. If Sonny finds out his baby sister is here in Manhattan alone . . . He'll give up his room number quickly. I just hope he doesn't run down here like an ass. Then it'll definitely be an argument.

"Oh…that's good." Her thumbs moved rapidly. "But what if they're having sex again? We might be waiting down here for a while. Who checks their phone when they're—"

I covered her mouth with my hand.

She licked my palm, but it made me smile. "We'll just have to wait and see," I said.

"You can…buy me something while we wait?"

I raised a brow, gesturing to the gift shop.

_If it'll keep her quiet . . ._

"It'll be like a souvenir of our trip together," she giggled. "We can pretend to be spies, or ohhh!" She jumped. "We can be ninjas and we need to get into the hotel room without being seen," she whispered, taking slow big steps.

Each of my kids do this . . . I can be pissed, very fucking angry, or aggravated at them, and then two minutes later? I'm reminded of how blessed I am—how much I fucking love them, how much I wished I could take away any ounce of sadness or pain . . . give them the world on a string if I could.

"Come here," I said.

She grimaced, walking back over to me.

I hugged her tightly. "I love you."

That changed her face. She smiled brightly up at me. "I love you, too, Daddy." She sighed and sniffed me, which is something Kylie just does. She stores scents away for memory, like Bella. "You always smell the same. You and Mommy smell like home." And I wished she was always like this. She's not fucking around either. I know when my Kylie Cat is being sincere, or when she's sucking-up, or when she's trying to push my buttons—which is always—or when she's trying to be funny.

All of our kids—they have this dry, perverse humor, but they're OUR kids. I didn't expect any less.

But back to Kylie . . . Maybe I do baby her, and maybe her behavior, her manner of acting is a reflection of that...my fault. I'm not sure, but she _is_ immature for her age. Then sometimes, she can be logical and profound. Mostly, she's silly and random JUST like Bella.

"I know." I rubbed her back. "So do you…Did you know, despite being a pain in my ass, you're my favorite?"

"You say that to all your kids . . ." And she was 100% correct.

And I still feel like shit for lying to Dame about that—telling him that Kylie was my favorite. It's impossible for me to pick one, even if I don't like some of the things they do.

I haven't told Dame he was my favorite in years.

"Oh, look. Mom likes stuff like this." She left the embrace, going over to these shiny little knickknacks.

A purple crystal turtle, a Hershey Bar, and a hair clip for Bella—that Kylie picked out—later, we got a response from Maggie.

And fucking Kylie wanted to buy them champagne to celebrate their love . . .

And what the fuck was the point of the purple crystal turtle? Why do they even sell shit like that?

Nevertheless, they were in a suite on the thirtieth floor, and Kylie was instructed by me to start crying.

"You did it in the car."

"I know but you made me happy…you know I like shiny things, like diamonds. Hint, hint, wink, wink." She nudged me.

"What'd you do with Julie's engagement ring?"

"Mom took it." She frowned. "Said a perfectly good diamond—especially one that big—shouldn't go to waste. But Dame didn't want it . . . She intended on changing the setting, so that when Dame pops the question to Amelia . . ." She rambled, speaking rapidly, and I tried to keep up. "But Dame has_ some_ class. He refuses to give Amelia something that used to be Julie's—says it's tainted by her bad juju. And Damion's not the type to believe in juju or God, I don't think." Her gaze met mine. "He might be a Satan worshipper."

I laughed. "You're still angry with him? He's mad at me, you know. Not you or Mom…" The elevator came and we walked on, Kylie quickly pressing the button.

She shrugged. "Mom said she was going to try and get his money back—he bought it off that guy on 86th Street. And I'm not mad at Dame-y Bear no more." She pouted. "I got my revenge and it's up in that hotel room. I can't believe it worked, but now my meddling screwed with Damion and Sonny." She blew out a breath, getting misty-eyed. "I feel bad. But if Dame loves Amelia, why does he care about Maggie and Sonny?"

"Your brother likes to keep his options open . . . And Damion doesn't—he doesn't connect with people that often or easily, and regardless of being drunk, he connected with Maggie. I'm sure he liked Maggie, but…he knew he was too old—he tried to stay away and he did. From the looks of it, Damion was actually looking out for Maggie's best interest—not so he could actually be with her."

"You buy that crap?"

I nodded, although I wasn't really sure. "Dame's not the type to care easily either. He was trying to protect Maggie from Sonny, knowing how your brother is with women. And men…we like to covet. Do you know what that means?"

She nodded, a smirk appearing on her lips. "Of course."

"And if Sonny was interested in Maggie, he would have gone for her anyway—whether you and your mother put him up to it or not."

"I'm just—I'm small, so I gotta be creative when getting them back. They can't get away with anything."

I smiled and pinched her chubby cheek. "Get to crying."

"Okay." She wiggled her hands. "Tell me something sad, messed-up." We stared at the numbers rising on the elevator.

"Um…" I racked my brain. "Your mother and I are murdered, but we leave you nothing—"

Her lip quivered.

"All of which places you in . . . jacked-up clothes that aren't trendy, and you were just robbed, but all they stole were your shoes. Gio dumps you because you're broke, but you get the last laugh . . . he's hit by a bus on his way back to his crib." I snorted a laugh, trying to compose myself. "And you're on the bus that hits him, because without us there are no drivers. Oh, we left some money to Damion, but he's a stingy fucker—"

"Stop." Kylie was in tears.

"Decapitated puppies, sliced up kittens—no wifi, um—"

"I said stop!" She was blubbering.

"You go into a severe depression and gain fifty pounds . . . all in your ass."

She hit me, and I laughed, but by then the bell had dinged. We were on their floor.

"You go to the door. I bet he's watching the hall, but you stall him—give me enough time to burst in like a motherfucker."

She nodded, wiping her eyes.

"You know we'd leave you something—"

"I know."

"—to bury us with."

She cried, leaving the elevator.

Kylie never looked back to me, and I took my nine out—knowing I'd blitz Sonny with it if he tried to lock me out.

"Get in here." Sonny was only wearing boxers, had a nine in his hand, too, and I straightened out in a doorway. "Tell me what happened."

"I just—I just—" Kylie sobbed, while Sonny tried to push her into the room, but she resisted.

"Just come in," he said, still shoving her inside.

Then Kylie held onto the doorway. "Now, Daddy, now!"

That wasn't stealthy at all, but I ran in. No one stopped me, and I was fast to close the door behind myself.

"What the fuck is this...Kylie and Skip Comedy Hour?" Sonny chuckled. "You could have called—"

"I did!" I exclaimed. "I called you eight fucking times!"

He scratched his head with his gun, grabbing for his phone. "Oh...but you didn't leave messages."

While I gritted my teeth, I took a look around. It was a lover's paradise—Jacuzzi, large flat screen, a sitting room, a small kitchen, but I didn't see Maggie anywhere. "Where is she?" I asked.

"I'll find her—"

Sonny stopped his sister from going to the bedroom. "I'll get her."

Kylie gave her brother the finger while he had his back to her.

"Stop," I told her.

"Strawberries and champagne?" She grimaced and studied their room service cart. "Dark chocolate truffles…"

"Awww, come on. I'm sure Peto hooks you up with warm soda and some watermelon."

She was crying again. "I want romance, dammit!"

And I was laughing, trying to channel all that fucking anger I had.

Where'd it go?

But then this was Bella's plan from the start—why she sent Kylie along.

"Screw them. I'm having some." She poured herself some Cristal. "You want?" She plopped a strawberry into the glass.

"Fuck it." I took it from her, and then sat on the couch. When I adjusted myself, my foot slipped. Looking down, it was a used condom.

I thought about picking it up and flinging it at my daughter, just to watch her scream and run around the room.

_Yeah, I was in playful mood, too._

"Check them out. Furry cuffs?" She made them dance, sounding like some wise guy. "Jesus…she'd never seen a penis before nine days ago . . . look at her, a pro." She turned back to me. "Maggie never saw a penis before Halloween. They did it on the roof of Midnight Sun. Can you believe it?"

"Sonny...? Yeah, I can believe it." I sipped the champagne.

"Sonny must be packin'..." She giggle snorted. "As soon as she told me, I noticed her walking funny. That's so gross." She tossed the cuffs down. "To me, Sonny doesn't have a peen."

I didn't comment.

She gasped. "I bet Sonny bought her a bunch of clothes, too." Kylie's eyes darted around the room. "He's not cheap, either. Where would they be?"

"The bedroom?" I asked.

"But Sonny's clothes are all over...Oh, maybe . . ." she tapped her chin, "they're sex fiends. She was probably naked the whole time, Daddy, and she stripped him down when he came in." She nodded and looked like she'd solved a mystery. "And—"

"Stop," I said.

Kylie shook her head. "Maggie's gotta make that dolla, dolla bill, y'all."

I chuckled, wanting to hug her again.

"Cash rules everything around me," she rapped. "I still remember that song from when I was little," she giggled.

I nodded. "I remember . . . C.R.E.A.M: get the money—dolla, dolla bill, y'all," I sang.

She pointed at me, rocking back and bopping. "Catchin' keys from across seas. Rollin' in MPV's, every week we made forty G's—"

"Respect mine, or anger the TEC-9 . . . Ch-pow! WU from the gates now." I was laughing my ass off.

She danced into the kitchen. "There's no food—Maggie must be starving." She raided their fridge. "Imagine if he cuffed her to the bed as like—his sex slave?" Her eyes widened. "I doubt her poon was THAT good." Maybe if that came from someone else's mouth, I'd raise a brow or chuckle.

I didn't comment about that. "Room service—they've likely been ordering room service." I stood up. "Go see what's going on. If I do—"

"Oh, yeah!" Our pervert-baby-mush ran back into the bedroom.

I sat there, sipping my champagne—thinking my son had class. All his designer suits were lying haphazardly around, his shoes, too…but it looked like there had been no maid service in a week. How long had Maggie really been staying here? I wouldn't put it past Sonny to make sure she got to and from school. But they knew they'd be discovered soon, so she skipped these past two days?

"Whoa…that's like the biggest bed I've ever seen. You could have an orgy on it."

"What are they doing?" I asked.

"Oh, Maggie's crying. Now she knows we're here to get her, and she doesn't wanna leave. I wouldn't wanna leave either…just saying. Look at this place." She twirled around. "You wanna order food?"

I shook my head.

"Sonny would pay—"

"No."

"Please?" She put her hands together like in prayer. "I've never had room service before, and I don't wanna go home yet. It'll give Mom a break from seeing my stupid face—"

"Stop saying that." It pissed me off.

"I'm always up her butt. I'm lonely...and right now I'm hungry." She rubbed her belly.

"We'll hit up a drive-thru, get you and Maggie a couple Happy Meals, get Mom some nuggets and shit," I sighed. "The three of youse can chill if her pop's doesn't freak—"

"Mommy doesn't even eat chicken nuggets. Shows how much you know." She scoffed.

"Excuse me? Fucking chicken wraps then."

Kylie wore a frown, hugging herself. Her demeanor had completely changed. "We should have a late dinner. You can take Mom and me out. I don't want McDonald's . . . We never do stuff like Uncle Carlisle and Alex—"

"What?" I asked.

She shrugged, looking down. "They eat together...Mom and I eat, and then you eat when you come home. They're like a real family? No one's ever fighting. They laugh and talk, and they're just together. Not divided by petty bullshit or whatever." She waved a hand, sort of sounding like my wife. "I just...I liked it there. Uncle Carlisle is always—"

"We're a real family, too. I just tend to be busier than your uncle." I scratched my eyebrow. "We'll do some shit this week."

"Promise? 'Cause today was really fun—"

I nodded, pointing my finger. "Go get your friend…If I have to leave this couch—if I see that little girl naked, someone's getting hurt. Help your pops out, Ky," I pleaded.

"Touch-y, touch-y." She ran off again. Then she came back really fast, walking backward. "They're coming out now."

By the time she said that, they were already in my line of sight. Maggie was a teary-eyed mess, tucked into Sonny's side, and my son looked sad too.

"Explain," I said. "Both of you—have a seat."

Sonny kissed her hair, bringing her over to the other sofa. Maggie was fully clothed—if wearing one of my son's button-down shirts is considered clothed. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" he sighed.

"Mr. Sullivan came knocking on _my door_, wondering where his daughter was. Apparently, she'd been staying at my house for over a week." I was calm, and I didn't raise my voice.

"I was taking her back and forth, but…" Sonny shook his head. "Can _we_ talk in the other room?" He pointed.

I nodded. "Sure." Playing the part of Mr. Nice Guy was going to pay off. When, or if, I punch Sonny in the face—because I know it might happen—he'll be taken aback.

Bella and I have the same California King that was in the bedroom. I don't know why Kylie was so fascinated. Especially since, these days, she spends more time with Bella in our bed than I do. And this room was gross, worse, than the sitting room.

"Homegirl can't clean?" I looked around.

"For what? It's a hotel." He plopped onto the bed. "And I don't want her doing anything…being here was for us, like a retreat. I don't know. If _I_ wanted it clean, _I'd_ clean. The bed's pretty clean—"

"You've been fucking on every other surface in the suite?"

He raised a brow, not saying a word.

"What the fuck is going on here? Level with me. Be nice to me. Please." I pleaded. "I asked you to bring her by the house that next morning. You _never_ showed up—Kylie said Maggie had been home for hours when I'd asked her. Now I know your sister was covering . . . And here we are nine days later." I widened my arms. "And you're on vacation? I'm guessing you don't leave your precious Maggie to go to Eclipse."

He shrugged. "I haven't really been doing anything—"

"But that little girl."

"She's not a little girl. Stop with that." He sat up. "Layla's got everything under control. I was there yesterday—"

"And Katie? Does _she_ have everything under control?"

"I—I really—I don't know." He cradled his head.

"You have no idea what you're doing—thinking with your cock." I spat.

"Are you kidding?" He smirked. "It's nine days later—_nine days_—and the thought of Maggie leaving . . . I'm not _only_ thinking with my cock. I don't know what it is just yet, but I'm crazy about her."

I nodded, trying to absorb his words. "You're going to take this relationship out into the open?" I asked. "Openly _date _a high school student at your old-ass age and status?"

"Uncle Carlisle is like thirteen years older than Alex—"

"High school," I repeated.

He shrugged. "It's only for seven more months, and then she graduates—"

"Fuck." I groaned. He spoke about the future, which means he is serious—to a degree. "You should end this now. A clean break. Youse had your fun, and now it's time to say goodbye—"

"Fuck that."

"You don't know what's going to happen when the baby comes. New parents—there are feelings involved—you guys might be able to patch things up."

"I don't want to. We'll have joint custody. I'll have my child a certain amount of time, and Katie will have her the rest of the week. People do it all the time."

"Why haven't you gone home? Aro asked you to go home on Halloween—to take care of Katie. Something was wrong, and…it's not like you not to give a fuck. You always take care of business, and…it's nine days later. Regardless of your problems, Katie's pregnant." How he could be so neglectful, while she was carrying his child, was beyond me. During each of Bella's pregnancies, I was like her slave and I enjoyed it. I doted, took care of me and mine. "No one can find you—you're not answering her calls, anyone's calls. What if something happened?"

"I check my messages—"

"Talk to me—be straight," I said. "You're being irresponsible...You're not a kid anymore, Sonny. Fuck. You didn't even act like a child when you were one." He was always eight going on thirty.

"Katie's an adult, too. And she never wants my help anyway—never cares if I'm around."

"But something was up with her."

"Nothing was wrong with Katie. AJ told her I was chillin' with some—I think they called Maggie a little whore—and Katie felt a certain way about it. She can't have it both ways . . . And I asked her. She said she didn't give a fuck about what I did. We're not together, and now we're not technically living together. I'm doing nothing wrong."

"To just bounce without telling her? Aro's after your ass, which places me in a spot."

"Fuck him." He snorted. "Aro—hell, you too. You guys have connections. Like you keep saying, it _has_ been nine days. I'm in Manhattan, flying under the radar for nine days? Aro hasn't been looking, or trying very hard to find me. He would have done so—same with you. No one noticed I was gone until Mr. Sullivan showed up, right?"

"Katie was crying her eyes out when I went to your crib. You forgot about a doctor's appointment?" I asked.

"Shit." He puffed his cheeks. "I did forget. I still took care of her—left her money and food, although I'm sure she can feed herself. I'm being a nice guy. Why can't I be happy? This is the happiest I've been in…I don't even know."

"Maggie's leaving with me, and you're going home tonight. You want Katie out? Tell her to pack a bag and hit the bricks—man up. She's not destitute—she's gotta job, various family members she could stay with."

He groaned. "Tomorrow. I'll drop Maggie off at school tomorrow—"

"No. Mr. Sullivan expects her home by nine tonight. That's what I told him, and I'm keeping my word." I nodded. "This baby is going to be here before you know it, and you're too busy buying your girlfriend a cell phone and a new wardrobe. How is all—everything going to fit in?"

"I have no idea…but I'm not ready to say goodbye to Maggie," he whispered.

I shook my head. "What's so special about this broad?"

"It's a feeling—how I feel when we're together. I'm having the best sex ever—Christ. It's mind-blowing…and it's not kinky or dirty, it's just us…we—we make it special." He swallowed loudly, and I'd honestly never heard him speak with this much conviction. "We talk and talk, and I don't mind. She knows me. I'm able to talk to her. It's NOT just sex. It's not_ just _anything—" He pulled on my sleeve. "She hasn't even pried—about what I do for a living. That's—"

I rolled my eyes. "What the fuck should she care? You have cash—What should she care where it comes from? She might be using you."

"No way."

I put my hands up.

"She didn't want the phone or anything. _I wanted_ to get those things for her, especially the phone…so I could reach her when we're not together."

"Right," I said. "Have you spoken to Damion at all?"

"Nope…I don't even want to see him—all the head games and all the lies. I'm just so tired of _everyone_ and _their_ bullshit. Every day . . . I'm pleasing. I walk around trying to fix problems and make others happy. Maggie—why should I let her go because _others_ are uncomfortable with _us_ being together? My stomach does flips when I say her fucking name. I've never felt this way before, either."

"Not even with Katie?" I asked.

"Maybe when I was twelve . . . I don't know. I don't remember."

"She's eighteen, Sonny."

He didn't have a comment.

"You'll be twenty-eight next month."

"I don't care if she doesn't care . . ." he laughed. "Earlier, I was trying to teach her how to blow me—"

"I don't want to hear about it." I rushed out.

"But you always—"

"No." And I felt sad, that I denied him this. "I feel youse being together is wrong . . . To be honest, I never thought you guys would continue on past Halloween. Plus, I didn't want trouble or a bigger fucking scene, so I gave you my blessing to leave with her—thought it was all in good fun . . . But, son, what good can come out of this? You get her knocked up, too? She's not ready to settle down like you are."

"I didn't do that with Katie."

I shrugged, because it didn't make a difference, although I believed him.

"It was a lapse in judgment—we didn't use a rubber."

"Bottom line, you can't stay in hiding," I said. "That stops now."

"I'm not hiding or doing anything. I'm staying here—giving Katie her space."

"Or you're just scared to go home. You know she's going to get on your ass, or maybe when you face her you'll get the warm fuzzies."

"No . . . when I leave this hotel room? I'll be entering reality again, where everything fucking sucks," he spat.

"Well, you can't do this when you have a kid." I looked back to him. "Just pick up and leave."

"Then…it's a good thing I'm doing it now, and I wasn't leaving my child—who's not even born yet. I wasn't necessarily leaving Katie either. While Katie's there, I obviously can't have Maggie over. Now _that's_ disrespectful…I know better, although Katie's made it clear—we're done. She put on some act for her father to start trouble."

"You really think so?" I asked.

"I do."

"And what if Katie were to want you back? Now or after the baby's born?" I raised a brow.

"I can't predict the future. But at the moment, I almost have hate in my heart for her. She fucked with my head for years…and when I finally thought I got her back…Fuck her. I just don't care anymore."

I sighed, leaving the bed. "Dress your doll, and then say goodbye to her."

He grinned. "That's cute—my doll." He looked like a little boy, something I'd never seen in him, even when he was one. "I call her Shaky."

"I don't want to know why."

"She shakes when she comes—gets excited." He shrugged. "Once she leaves she'll probably get grounded."

"You see?" I nearly shouted. "You're dating someone who can get punished. Sonny, please!" I held my head.

"She's eighteen—just doesn't have the balls to tell her parents. What can they do? Seriously? If they kicked her out, I'd get her an apartment, or—"

"She's not even your type. There, I said it." I faced him. "She's not even…incredibly built like a woman. You like blond amazons with huge racks and all the makeup."

He laughed. "I've fucked a variety—_a variety_—of women. I don't want to go back to that—"

"So, you're sticking with Maggie? Because you don't wanna sleep around anymore? It's not one or the other, and nothing is set in stone. I'm just saying…it'd be smart to wait until the baby is born—living arrangements are sorted—before you dive into a relationship with someone. And I mean anyone, not just Maggie."

"No!" he shouted. "I'm sticking with Maggie because I think I'm falling in lo—"

"Don't you dare!" I cut him off.

"It is what it is." He smiled widely.

"Have you told Maggie about…these feelings?" I whispered.

"No…I don't want to scare her."

"And two weeks ago she was hung up on Dame. Don't do this to yourself." I pulled on my hair again, wondering if they'd—my children—make me go bald. "You think you're falling for her already...She's going to break your heart. She's eighteen, and you need someone who's ready to settle down. You talk all this shit about Katie…about what she'd make you do, are you ready to saddle Maggie—at eighteen—with a husband and a stepchild? 'Cause if she's as far gone as you are, she'll ditch college, get knocked up, and then resent you by the time she's twenty-one."

"I haven't thought that far ahead—"

"You're having a child—you have to!" I punched my palm.

"So…when I was born you had all the answers?" He raised his voice again, and that was grating on my nerves.

"I was married. I was settled down. But fuck that. With all these maybes flying around...you're not in the position to add to it. You need to chill the fuck out. Call a spade a spade, and say goodbye."

"No."

"How long are you going to ignore your brother? Act like he doesn't exist?" I asked.

He didn't answer me.

"She went from Dame to you in a fucking day—"

"It was a crush…one that was never explored, and when they did chill…they hung out for like two hours. What we have is real…it's not a fling thing." He sipped from a can of Pepsi. "I haven't even been drinking—doing anything. I ordered champagne because it's classy . . . I don't even feel the need. I am so happy, and all I want is for you to be happy for me."

"I wanna be outta here in ten minutes . . . And you know you can always talk to me about anything, Maggie included." I kept my back to him, waiting for a reply.

"Can you just be happy for me?" He sounded exasperated. "I want to pursue this—with my whole heart—and a lot of people are going to be against us. I need to know that _you_ won't be."

I turned to face him. "You know I'm always in your corner. I'm just asking you to think this through. Please. And if you don't want any more trouble . . . you both need to get your asses home. You to settle shit with Katie, and she . . . You didn't see her pops, man. He was scared to death."

"They're not terribly nice to her—"

"Being strict—making sure your child is raised by certain rules has nothing to do with being nice. I'm your friend now, but growing up I was always a father, and you always thought I was an asshole . . . She may be eighteen, but she still resides in their house. As a father of an eighteen-year-old girl—excuse me, _young lady_—and even you, as Kylie's brother, if Peto took off with her for _nine _days…? Come on, Sonny."

"You're right." He rasped, clearing his throat. "We weren't thinking, but she wasn't with me the whole nine days. I'd pick her up from school, and then bring her to school . . . She even worked one or two days at the salon, and then she'd see her pops in passing, whatever. The past few days, though—" A smile crept up to his lips. "I couldn't let her go, and yes. I knew our alone time was coming to an end—that someone would burst our bubble sooner or later."

"Just…try to think from now on."

He nodded.

"Ten minutes…" I left the bedroom.

**/=/=/=/=/**

**SONNY**

**/=/=/=/=/**

Since I'd left my car by Eclipse the other day, getting a ride to the hotel from Momo, I bummed a ride from Dad. Forgetting my car was a nasty trick, but it worked. Without a ride, Maggie didn't go to school or back to Bay Ridge. I knew some shit was going to happen . . .

But it was cool. Dad didn't bitch when I hopped into the backseat with Maggie, or when I insisted I walked her to her door. It was a risk, but one I had to take.

"I'll call you later." I kissed her palm, and I really didn't want to say goodbye.

She stared at her house. "It was worth it—getting to spend time with you. I'm just so scared to go in. I don't even know what to say."

I pursed my lips, staring at her house, too, and noticing my father and Kylie enter our garage in my periphery. "Tell him the truth—"

"I don't know." She held her stomach.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"You know I'm not," she whispered.

"Just tell him you have a boyfriend—"

"Is that really what you are?" She grinned.

I bit my lip, smiling and staring down at her. "Yeah…just you and me?"

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "I want that." Her lip quivered. "I—I care about you a lot, and—"

"Oh, me too, baby…" Little did she know…fuck, I felt the same way, and I keep waiting—wondering when I'm going to wake up and find all this a dream. "Don't cry . . . If you want—if your father wants—we can go to dinner this week, all three of us. He can meet me and see that I'm not some douchebag." My stomach continued to roll with butterflies—just standing here. And I _am_ a grown-ass man.

"I mean, I'm worried about both my parents, but I don't know when my mom will be back. If my Grandma LuLu dies…I'll probably have to go out to Pittsburgh."

"For how long?" I asked.

"I don't know—a few days?"

I nodded, wanting to say I'd come with her, but . . . I have too many things pulling me in each different direction, and all I want to do is lean toward Maggie. She's my light amongst the darkness, and I loathed the thought of being away from her. Despite her going to school or the salon, or me going to Eclipse, we've spent most of the past nine days together. We had every single afternoon and night together, where we had dinner, snuggled, and made love. We shared so many laughs. We talked each other's ears off . . . and I loved everything I heard.

"We'll meet for dinner tomorrow?"

"I'd love that."

I ducked to steal one last kiss.

"Margaret!" Her father shouted, whipping the door open.

I couldn't help it. I'd instinctively jumped in front of her.

"Dad…" She stared up at him.

"Mr. Sullivan." I put my hand out.

He stared at my hand. "You're one of the Cullen boys…"

I nodded. "Santino. It's a pleasure to meet you—"

"May I ask why you're—I don't even know what to say." He looked from Maggie and back to me. He knew something was up.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Maggie said. "I, uh—"

"Since it's getting dark earlier now . . . my mother had me walk Maggie home." I cleared my throat, wanting this guy to like me. Maybe over time he would, and_ then_ he'd learn of our relationship.

"Well, she's home now." He opened the door wider. "What is all that?" He stared down at her bags, and I massaged my forehead.

"Kylie cleaned out her closet," she lied.

"You don't need anything. You have plenty of clothes. Tomorrow morning you can drop them off at Saint Anselm. I'm sure Kylie won't mind. It's the right thing to do." He looked at us—the bags—with disgust, and it was pissing me off. Especially since he was going on about clothes in his doorway, giving away all the shit I'd got just for Maggie. She had nothing—not even a fucking cell phone, and that shit isn't even considered a luxury these days. She doesn't have anything, yet her father has a decent job. They drive a fucking BMW. It bothered me—that Maggie didn't have certain things. I got them for her.

"Yes, sir," Maggie whispered, like she was curling in on herself, not being herself at all, and that killed me—my ray of sunshine turning into a mucky cloud.

"Get in the house. We need to have a talk."

Maggie looked back to me, slowly laying the large Louis Vuitton suitcase flat—an indication I take it—and then she was gone.

"Sir—"

"Did you call the school, pretending to be me?" he asked.

I blew out a breath, and I had no idea how to answer that. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."

He folded his arms across his chest, leaning in the doorway. "The jig is up." He must be pissed since his accent got thicker. "I was standing right here, Bucko. I heard everything, only coming out because, if you'd kissed her, if you'd touched my daughter—"

"Mr. Sullivan—"

"We thought it was wonderful when Maggie and Kylie started spending time together. I respect your father as a family man, as a man, but I know…I see, and I actually enjoy the fact that this is likely the safest block in Brooklyn, if not the safest neighborhood. Maggie has no idea because—well, for her to be a friend to Kylie, what you and your father do for a living isn't relevant. We're not in the habit of speaking ill either."

This wasn't like speaking to Aro or mouthing off to him. I was literally about to vomit, and I had no idea what to say. Mr. Sullivan held all the cards. He had all the power—the power and ability to keep my girl away from me.

"We even let her go to that extravagant party on Halloween. We've been bending rules, but…" He just stared at me. "I know who you are and what you're capable of. But please respect my decision and my word. Do not come around here looking for me daughter!"

"But sir, she's an adult—"

"Dad, I am eighteen now," Maggie whispered from behind him.

"You'll get up to your room, or you'll find yourself finishing school at Trinity Teen Solution—"

"I'm not a bad kid. You can't just send me away!" Maggie was in tears.

"Then you tell him never to contact you again." His hand was shaking, and I didn't know if it was in anger or fear. I hoped it was fear. But then he turned back to me while Maggie cried and shouted at him. I wanted to comfort her, say something, but her father was the threat. "Have a good night, Mr. Cullen, and might I suggest dating women your own age—not preying on young girls." He slammed the door in my face.

I nodded, accepting that, but I didn't move—ever so curious as to what he might say.

"You can't do this!" Maggie shouted. "I've followed all your rules—every one of them. I get straight A's, perfect attendance until this week—perfect!"

"This is not open for discussion." They were very loud, and I had no shame in having a seat on their stoop. I just—I needed to make sure Maggie was okay—that things would quiet down. "I don't know who you are anymore!" He spat. "My little girl—you were to be a fine nun, and now what have ya done?"

"Nothing! He's my boyfriend. Lots of girls my age, even younger, have boyfriends. We've done nothing wrong—"

"Boyfriend?" The way he laughed when he said that . . . it hurt, churned my stomach. "You think that hoodlum was your boyfriend? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you were nothing more than a whore to a gangster! They're criminals. Those Italian pieces of shit…"

"Oh, fuck." I covered my face with my hands—not even angry, just wounded.

The jig _was_ up, only he couldn't be more wrong.

"Margaret, what have you done—you've ruined yourself!" he hollered.

"I didn't do anything! You don't know him. He's studying for the bar—he's going to be a brilliant lawyer. You'll see! And he cares about me. Someone cares about _me!_ What I have to say is interesting. He never tells me to shut up, never—you don't know what you're talking about! At least he treats me like an actual person. He sees me—doesn't ignore me like everyone else on the darn planet!" she screeched, and then I heard her marching up the stairs.

"Let's see how much he cares—he already got what he wanted, I bet! You're never seeing him again!" he hollered back to her, and I waited for her reply.

Then I waited a few more moments . . . making sure I didn't hear his footfalls following her.

Then I took the suitcase—not wanting to see any members of my family—and just placed it in the garage, exchanging it for my bag before I closed it up.

The walk up to Fourth Avenue was dreadful, knowing I was going to have a fight with Katie. I'll try to actually talk, not raise my voice, but an argument was inevitable. I knew that.

She even had the deadbolt on the door, possibly so—in case she was sleeping—she'd hear me jiggle it open.

Katie was here, drinking tea in the dining room with AJ—that troublemaker. Was it possible for someone to haunt another their whole life? Every problem Katie and I ever had was because of him.

"Get out of my house—" I pointed.

"Don't you dare!" Katie shouted at her brother.

"If you don't want me to break your fucking jaw, you'll go." I jerked my head to the door.

Since AJ has always been a great big pussy, along with being a douche, he kissed Katie's hair and was quick to leave.

I slammed the door closed after him.

"You have some nerve—"

"So do you." My words to her were calm. "Getting them involved with our problems."

She looked away from me.

"Katie—"

Her cold gaze came back to me. "I don't see you for more than a week . . ." She shrugged. "What the fuck is that about?"

I nodded, hoping we'd stay chill—not raise our voices. "I needed a break." I even whispered it. "I was going out of my mind—between the shit with you, trying to make everyone happy—I needed time to gather my thoughts, and—"

"And that includes your little girlfriend?"

"I did meet someone…" I nodded. "Halloween—"

"I know all about it." She snorted. "You're just unbelievable. After promising me, swearing to God and on our child that you'd never do me dirty—" She was in tears.

"Whoa…We're not together. You made that abundantly clear—made that decision over three weeks ago."

"And you couldn't even last a month without finding a replacement?!" she shouted, and even with the bump—she's fast, as much as she denies it. She shot up out of the chair. "Did you ever think that maybe I didn't want to be hurt? That maybe I wanted us to chill out for a bit? Test the waters? And the first chance you get . . ."

"Don't do this." I actually cradled my stomach. "I can't keep having this same argument with you. You're not happy when we're together. You're not happy when we're apart. You say I'm different, but it's you, Katie. I don't know you. I don't like this version of you." I threw her words back at her, and I reached for her hand. "You're scaring me with this back and forth shit—like you might need help, or counseling."

"Again with the counseling? Me?" She pointed to herself. "You have all the rage issues—"

"Katie," I whispered, bringing my hands up to my mouth like I was about to pray. "At this point, I'm being totally honest with you, I'm only trying my best to get along with you for our daughter. Maybe what my brother says is true . . . we loved the idea of us as a couple, but we grew apart."

She sat back down, crying. "Everything happened so fast, and I did love Raul."

"I'm sure you did." I was sure it was bullshit. "We made mistakes—hooking up all those times, but we always stayed friends . . . Why can't we be friends now?"

"Forget about us as a couple . . . You said we'd do this together, and…you disappear?"

"I told you why I needed time away," I said. "I needed to clear my head—the one you've been fucking with for years."

"Your being away is my fault? It's all my fault." She threw her hands up.

"The way I felt . . . flying off the handle all the time, miserable, snapping at you, not being patient with you in your condition . . . We rushed into things, and then it was a nightmare. You can't lie and say that isn't true, and then . . . I wanted to give us more time. I wanted to, to keep loving you. You have to believe me. I tried, tried talking to you, coming up with solutions, and you shot them all down."

"We're different people now. I just—I was so scared when I found out the baby was yours," she sobbed. "It would have been easier if she wasn't yours—I hoped and prayed she wasn't."

I rubbed my eyes, feeling the sting. "I can respect that."

"But for you to just take off . . . I deserve more than a note by the coffeepot."

"For my own peace of mind, I needed time away from you and everyone. I'm sorry if that was inconsiderate of me, but I stopped by quite a few times—making sure you had everything you needed."

"I don't want to live downstairs. It would never work," she whispered.

I nodded, agreeing with her. "I realize that now, too. But . . . I'd still like to be involved as much as I can, and then joint custody. We have her equal time—"

"You can't even show up for doctor's visits. You just—you disappoint me. The first chance you had…you thought about your dick, not what would be best for me or—"

I widened my arms in disbelief, refusing to scream. "It's not like I planned to meet Maggie, and being around you isn't a picnic lately . . . If you wanted me to stay home on Halloween and not go to the club, you should have said something. Instead, you ignored me for days before that! So, for you to give a fuck about me being away…"

"That's her name? Maggie?"

"Margaret Anne," I said.

"Awww, is she a little Irish girl?"

"Actually, yeah. She's Irish." I wanted to roll my eyes but didn't.

"Sadly, from what I heard, it was a setup. Now I know your mother hates me—to do that. And then you have your hands all over her, in front of my family?"

I didn't say anything. I didn't comment.

She stared at me for a few moments before continuing. "I know we weren't together, so don't spit that at me. It's the principle—it's embarrassing. I'm here carrying your child, and you say you want to be my friend, be here for me, do things together, but a Halloween party was more important."

"You don't want me," I said.

"Not anymore—not in the slightest bit."

"You didn't ask me to stay home. My whole family was going, and, lately, with trying to make you happy…I haven't seen them at all." I clawed at my face.

She scoffed. "You should just stay single. No chick can compare with Mamma Bella. Oh, unless she picks out a girl for you. She handpicked Maggie, didn't she?"

"What does any of it matter? My relationships, outside of our friendship, won't hinder my ability to be a good father." I shook my head. "Will it?"

"It's about responsibility. Whether we're together or not, you had a responsibility to me. With you, it's all of me or none of me. Because I chose not to be with you—because it was the right choice—you've been distant, inconsiderate, and like I said, very irresponsible. It's like I don't exist, but you say you want to be here, be involved."

"I'm sorry about that." I thought it best to just apologize, hurry it along. "Can we agree to be friends? You can stay here for as long as you like. I'll stay with my parents—"

"Closer to the girlfriend?" She smiled, but it wasn't a happy one.

"Actually..." I wanted to say, "I'd be farther away from you" but I didn't. "Do you want to talk about Maggie?" I asked. "We can . . . I'll answer anything you want to know."

"Is she even worth discussing?" She rolled her eyes. "There'll just be a new one next week, and the week after that."

"She knows about you," I said. "I told her everything—"

"Everything?" She raised a brow.

"Please don't be a bitch to me._ It's_ not the right time, _she's_ not the right age, but Katie . . . I think—I'm falling in love with her. And if I have it my way, she'll be around for a while, which means she'll be a part of—not just _my_ life—but our lives . . . I hope she is." And now I really thought I was going to be sick, but I didn't regret laying it out for her. She needed to know.

"You're serious?" The tears were back. "And you know all this after—"

"Nine days," I whispered. Nine blissfully happy days, where I forgot who I was. "It's scaring the fuck out me, too." And now I was crying. "You're the only woman who—who I loved, but this is different, and I can't explain it—"

"Each love is different." She wiped her eyes. "Some are better, worse—no love is the same."

I nodded. "Thank you for saying that. More than likely, I'm going to get my heart broken, but . . . I'm hoping for the best."

"She's really seventeen?" Her tone was laced with disgust.

"Eighteen," I said.

"That's—that's better." She _sounded_ better and had stopped crying.

"I don't want you to hate her. It'd kill me to be ripped apart, so please . . . I'm begging you from now. She knows you're pregnant with my daughter, but as far as roles go . . . I know you might feel a certain way with her being around the baby. I'm probably getting ahead of myself. I just—I don't know."

"I'm surprised. You usually have all the answers."

I shrugged, biting my bottom lip. "This time I don't . . . I haven't the faintest clue."

She stared at the table, just like in a daze. "My mother said I can stay with her . . . until I can find a place. I'll leave tomorrow—"

"Well, whatever you'd need—deposit, security, whatever you need, Katie. I know you hate where my money comes from, but it's green. We only have two months to get our shit together. I'm going to be busting my ass, too."

"I will need your help."

"Thank you." I felt relieved. "You let me know, and I'll make it happen."

She nodded, rubbing her stomach.

"She kicking?" I asked.

Katie's mouth pulled up into half a smile. "Gas."

"Oh." I smiled, too. "I just—" Someone rang the buzzer. "Did AJ forget something?"

"No. He wouldn't come back. Might be my dad. I—we've been talking a lot." She wouldn't look at me, which meant she was filling his head with shit—probably.

"Right," I sighed, leaving the chair and going to the kitchen. "Who is it?" I used the intercom.

_"Um, uh, it's me—I know, um, you said, but—I—"_ It was Maggie and she was crying her eyes out. My heart leaped into my throat, and I ran out the door. Taking the stairs two and three at a time, I got down there fast—my face falling even more seeing her between the doors.

"What happened?" I asked.

She flew at me, hugging me and in tears, sobbing.

"Shhh." I rubbed her back. "Tell me what's wrong."

She shook her head, swallowing her cries.

"Look at me." I lifted her chin, and that was when I saw it—the reddening mark on her cheek. "He hit you?" I tried to wrap my head around it—hoping she ran here and fell in the street.

"He was really—really m-mad, and he said—he said—"

I hugged her to me tightly, rubbing her back to keep from punching the wall.

"Who is it?" Katie asked, sticking her head between the first and second landings.

"Oh, no—I, um—" Maggie backed away. "I'm sorry."

"What, no—" I pulled her back into my arms. "Don't run away—please don't."

Her body racked with sobs, nearly collapsing in my arms.

"What happened?" Katie asked.

I just looked up to her, shaking my head as I—in this moment—didn't know where to begin.

"He-he said I was just your w-whore, but, but—"

"Fuck no. You're—Christ, Maggie. You know how crazy I am about you." I planted my lips in her hair, smashing her to me and wiping my runny nose on my sleeve.

"I told him—he didn't believe me. And I said I needed you, and he said he'd send me away, and he can't—I don't think—because I'm eighteen. I didn't—I didn't know where else to go."

"Shhh. You're okay. You're safe."

"I didn't wanna bother Kylie or your dad . . . he hates us together, too."

"He doesn't," I whispered.

"He-he said you were in the mafia—a criminal."

"Shit," Katie commented, and I'd forgotten all about her eavesdropping. "Guess you didn't tell her_ everything_."

I was glad this amused her, but I sadly didn't know how to respond to Maggie.

"Are—are you?" She was quieting down, her voice still shaky.

"Would it matter?" I whispered, wiping the tears away from my own eyes—glad Maggie couldn't see me, as her face was buried in my chest. It's ridiculous, but she thinks I'm so tough since she saw me put Dame down with one move, and I wanted her to see me that way. I wanted and needed her to need me, depend on me.

"I, um—No." She hugged me tighter.

And I let go of the gust of breath I'd been holding.

"Sonny?"

I looked up to Katie, nearly pleading, hoping and praying she wouldn't give me a hard time.

Time . . .

The timing fucking sucks, but Maggie . . . I couldn't let her go on Halloween, nor the day after, nor the day after that, and here we are. It's weird because I don't want to imagine my life without her—I can't now, and that scares the fuck out of me. I know how young she is. I know she has her own life to live. I know every shitty and complicated thing in my life might just fuck up hers . . . but the thought of letting her go?

"It's cold in this hallway." Katie's tone was hushed, but it wasn't bitchy. "Have her come up. I'll, um, I'll make more tea or something."

"Thank you," I mouthed, more tears spilling—this time it was relief. "Come on." I gathered Maggie into my arms and started up the stairs.

"No." She fisted my shirt. "She's gonna hate me—I don't want to cause you trouble, or you guys to fight." She was sobbing again. "Just, just—"

"Shhhh." I stopped at the landing to place a soft kiss on her lips. "It's okay. I wouldn't bring you up if it wasn't okay." And she'd never know how okay it was. Sure, what Maggie's father did and said were horrible things, but that selfish bastard—Santino—he felt whole having his girl in his arms, because she was safe with him. "I'd never let anything happen to you. You trust me?"

She nodded.

"You'll be fine."

". . .'K."

Once inside, I brought her straight into the kitchen and sat her on the counter, so I could see the shiner, although I didn't want to see it. But if we didn't ice it, it'd be much worse tomorrow. I've had my fair share of black eyes.

"What happened?" Katie came into the kitchen, too.

"It's my fault," I said, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer.

"No," Maggie said.

"Her father saw us together—we fucked up. I—" I didn't know how to explain to Katie.

"Oh . . . _oh_." It dawned on Katie. "Can I talk to you privately?"

I was torn between a rock and hard place, wondering if I spoke with Katie if Maggie would sneak out. My heart couldn't handle the emotional torture of looking for her, trying to find her, or worse, if she went back to her father.

"Hold this," I instructed Maggie. "Right to your cheek. We'll be right in the other room."

She kept her head down.

"Hey." I touched her chin. "I'll be right back."

She gulped, refusing to meet my gaze—she probably feels really uncomfortable or shitty. I had no idea.

Katie pulled on my sleeve, and I wanted to snap at her but I didn't. I followed, stopping in the hall—so I could see the front door, be able to stop Maggie from leaving.

"Don't do anything stupid," Katie whispered. "Don't go over there and hurt that girl's father."

"I'm not—"

"You want to," she said.

I shrugged. "I've done worse to people for doing less to you. You just didn't know about it."

Katie shook her head. "Just—I hate to bring it up, but this is what's also heartbreaking about—about you. I hate the possibility of our child's father going to prison, or worse—the morgue. I can't live like that . . . and she _doesn't_ know. Maggie doesn't know anything." She pointed to the kitchen. "Sonny, she's a kid. I believe your feelings…I've seen you in love before, but…don't do this to her."

I had nothing to say to her—I didn't know what to say, knowing she was correct but not wanting to accept it.

"I just—you're going to do what you want." She shrugged. "I'm going to bed…this is your place, so—" She wasn't just going to give an outright blessing that my girlfriend could sleep-over. "I'll take off the morning—call in a sub, and I'll go to my mom's."

"You don't have to—"

"The girlfriend and the pregnant ex all in the same apartment?" She raised a brow. "I'm sure she's a nice girl, but I'm too catty and territorial, and it'd just be weird."

I rolled my eyes. "No…I'd stay someplace else…I don't know what's up or down with her yet."

"She's going to move in, so you guys can play house, and you know it." It was fucked up that it sounded like a decent plan. "And your priorities better be straight before this kid is born. Fuck me. Fuck Maggie. She, our daughter, comes first." She rubbed her stomach.

"Of course. I know how that goes," I said.

"And if I get to know her and she's a fucking loon? She can't be around our child."

"You're getting way ahead of yourself. It's still only been…nine days, Katie." I didn't know anything about time or dating. But it made me understand Dame and Amelia a little more—knowing it was truly possible for people to fall all over themselves in a short period of time. "I have no idea . . . what I'm doing."

"When you love, Sonny—you shine, you come alive," she cried, her face crumbling. "This is the Sonny I remember." She gestured to me. "You just—you _thought _you loved me, and that's okay. I was holding on to you like a security blanket; remember I said that years ago?"

I nodded. "You have to know—" I held in a sob, nearly choking on it. "I wanted us to work—so fucking badly. I felt I needed us to work, to, to feel whole because—I've been miserable for years."

She shook her head. "It wasn't me you missed—you missed love—love in general." She pushed my chest. "Just…why do you have to be so fucking hot?" Then she smacked me on the back of the head, and that's when I knew—thought we'd be okay. "It wasn't love, per se . . . maybe you _are_ just a good fuck." I don't know if she said it to hurt me, or if her tone was flirtatious—and I hoped it wasn't the latter. "And Raul had a tiny dick."

Now I really didn't know how to reply.

"I'm trying to be your friend…" She grumbled, and then continued waddling down the hall.

I smiled, taking three long strides and hugging her from behind. "Thank you."

"And when you're in love, you turn into a big fucking baby, too."

I laughed, letting her go. "Goodnight."

She waved, going into the guest room and closing the door.

The whole time, I kept my eyes on the front door and my ears open. Maggie didn't escape—run away. She was still sitting on the kitchen counter when I reentered.

"I'm really sorry for coming here."

I hated that she looked this sad. "My place—anywhere I am—it's your place, too, where you belong." I held her hand, entwining our fingers.

"Thank you."

I grabbed a napkin to wipe under her nose.

"Oh, I'm probably gross."

"You're gorgeous." I did my best to get those tears to go away, the boogers too.

"I should go—I panicked, and—I don't know. My dad—I came down to get a glass of water. He never followed me upstairs—I thought-I thought he'd leave me alone, but he taunted me, and what happened—he was drinking and stuff," she cried. "I wanna call my mom but my father is the lesser of the two evils—and they're church folk." She giggled through her tears. "Oh, things are so fudged up." And she was crying again.

"I'm not going to let you go home to him," I said. "Especially not tonight—not if he's been drinking. If you don't want to stay here, I'll take you to my parents' house."

She looked down to her phone. "I'll text Kylie."

I nodded, pulling her against my chest, and holding her tight. All of which made her cry more. "Katie's going to stay with her mom tomorrow—"

"Because of me?" she sobbed. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, no, no." I made her look up to me. "That was established before you even got here. Okay? It's not because of you. If she doesn't leave, we'll kill each other."

She nodded, solemnly.

"Are you thirsty?" I had no idea what was in the fridge, besides what I'd picked up a few days ago.

"No."

"Hungry?" I poked her belly.

"No, I'm okay." She sniffled. "Thank you."

"A kiss?" I leaned into her, stopping just before her lips.

She grinned. "Always."

After kissing her silly, we walked to my parents' house. My gaze lingered on her crib as we passed, and I still had no idea what to do to him. I'd think of something.

I stopped us before we were to go inside. "When things are settled with Katie—probably the day after tomorrow . . . you can come stay with me if you want—if _you_ want. If you don't, I'm sure my parents will let you stay here for longer. I just—I can't—if your dad hits you, baby, I can't have that. That _can't_ happen." I tried to keep my breathing even and under control.

She smiled sadly. "I never, um, had a boyfriend before, but it all feels very fast. I mean, we had fun at the hotel—a lot, oh my gosh, a lot—of fun."

I laughed, pulling her closer. "I can't get enough of you."

"But that wasn't reality . . . I went to school—well, when I did go."

"And you can still finish school. You can do whatever you want. You'd be living with me." I nipped her lips.

She giggled and then cried. "I know I'll forgive my dad. I hope he didn't mean it. But if I lived with you . . . they'd—they'd hate me. And if I stay with them, they won't let me see you."

"Shhh." I rubbed her back, comprehending everything she'd just said.

"And then the thought of not seeing you, not being able to kiss you, not having you hold me, or not rubbing your belly when you eat too much—I just—I don't know. It makes me feel the saddest that I've ever been in my whole life."

I gulped, looking up to the moon, and thinking it ironic that the sky was so overcast that there really wasn't one. And I wanted to shout at Maggie, "Pick me! Love me!" Because I'd always do whatever I could to make her happy and keep her safe.

"Hey, freaks!" Kylie waved, coming out from the backyard. "I didn't get the chance to apologize…for breaking up your taboo love nest . . ." She was finally able to really see us, getting close. "Christ. Who died?" All Maggie texted Kylie was that her parents kicked her out. She didn't get into specifics, and Mom wouldn't turn her away. "Dad, Sonny's crying—something's really wrong!"

"Shut up." Fuck. I felt like the biggest pussy. "Announce it to the whole 'hood."

"Sorry." She frowned, and then Dad came out.

"All of you get inside." He stared up and down the block.

"Look at this." I gently grasped Maggie's chin to show him her face. Dad's nostrils flared, but he wasn't going to say a word or react around Kylie or Maggie.

"I just—he—I'm sorry for disturbing your evening," Maggie cried.

"Please stop crying." I kissed her temple. "You're not putting anyone out."

She nodded, staring down.

"Christ." I pulled her in for a tight hug.

"Mr. Sullivan did that?" I heard Kylie whisper. "Tit for motherfucking tat. Let's go smack him in his grill." And she got in Maggie's face, singing "grillz, grillz", which finally made Maggie laugh. "I'm kidding . . . Come on. Let's go put PJs on and bug my mom." She grabbed Maggie, pulling her away from me. "Then you can tell me what you did with those fuzzy cuffs."

"Can I tell her?" Maggie asked me.

I grinned at her. "No shame in my game."

Kylie snorted, ushering Maggie inside.

"You're in love with her," Dad said once we were alone.

"I am…" My stomach rolled again.

"You're not going to touch Mr. Sullivan—"

"Excuse me?" I looked at him like he was insane. "He—"

"Maybe he lost his temper? Made a mistake? One that he's probably beating himself up over already? Regardless, until you know why, until you know if it's worth it—I bet Maggie loves her pops very much and he made a mistake. I don't want you to do anything. Trust me and respect what I'm asking. I'll talk to him," he whispered.

"This is so fucked up. He called me a gangster—called her my whore." I groaned, palming my face.

"So, she knows?"

"I didn't confirm or deny . . . I asked her if it would matter when she asked me if it was true." I shrugged.

"Well, what'd she say?" he asked.

"She said no . . . It wouldn't matter."

**Thank you for reading. **

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**We're in the middle of a Sonny arc, so we'll be hearing more from him while others take a back seat. I apologize to those of you who do not like it . . . (shrug) It's all written, and I like it, so . . . **

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Two weeks ago, a friend posted her story on her Facebook wall. Devastated by this news from a deeply-valued reader/supporter/friend, I asked the question so many others have asked: "What can we do for you, K?" Her answer: "I want for nothing for myself. Do you think we could raise money for Stand Up 2 Cancer?" Thus, Stand Up 4 Katalina (SU4K) was born. (Words via born on Halloween)

Even though she wanted nothing, I asked her for a prompt, what she'd like to see me write. She's a fan of the Storm Series, and misses the early days of Bebella and Mr. FuckHot. So, I'll be contributing an outtake, which will showcase Edward and Bella's early days – stuff I glazed over while writing the actual story will be brought to light. I hope to make it just as gritty and real as Quiet Storm, while also sexy to capture the crazy passion they had when they'd first gotten together.

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	21. Truth

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

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**I came back to replace the chap and write this note. I realize that I've lost many readers and most of you are unhappy with the Sonny/Maggie dynamic . . . I apologize that you all feel this way, but I hope you all realize...JUST like I've done so in the past, all you see through this or that one's POV is what they think. I'd urge you to hang on - at least until chapter 25/26 - and then flounce if you wish to do so. I don't plan to change anything based on what you all think of Sonny/Maggie. But these characters are like my babies :/ When one of you leaves a negative review . . . I don't know. I can take constructive criticism, but expressing hate or dismay for a character I've fallen in love with? It actually hurts me on a personal level. However, I do ask for your opinions and I RESPECT what you say, even if I don't like what you have to say, so...leave me your opinions - good, bad, or indifferent - I STILL appreciate you taking the time and leaving me reviews. **

**idk what I'm trying to say, lol, but I love Sonny/Maggie together. *shrug* And there's always a method to the madness . . . It's just . . . reading the negativity? It actually turns me off from writing. I've taken a break, and it's not me being too sensitive. I wish this stuff didn't bother me, but it does, and so . . . We'll be going back to weekly updates instead of me updating twice a week. I'd hate for people to have to wait for chapters, so going back to posting Wednesdays is a great direction. **

**THANK YOU all again! I appreciate every single review. Your kind words means the world to me. **

**Lexi**

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**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Twenty-One: Truth**

**Bella POV**

_**W**_ith my coffee in one hand and my purse in the other, I nearly stumbled out of the car. Vinny had a chuckle and helped me—righted me before I could go spiraling down.

"You a'ight?" he asked.

"I'm good." I fixed my purse strap, and then my eyes darted around for Sonny. He stood by the entrance, and when his gaze landed on me, he widened his arms. I was late. "Sonny's here . . . You can go. He'll give me a ride back."

Vinny nodded. "Skip's got me goin'ta NYU to scoop the other one—"

"Damion?" I asked.

Vinny knows he's not supposed to tell me certain things—like what he does when he's not just driving, shit like that, but I have my ways. He's young, like Damion's age, and he lives with his mother. I give him my Mom-eye and he stutters, stammers, and eventually tells me the truth.

"Yeah…" He went for the driver's side.

I tried to think. It was late in the morning and I knew Edward was working early today, but it was a Tuesday. "Where are you taking him?" My son has class or clinic hours six days a week, or so I'm told.

His widened eyes flashed to mine. "I—I'm late." He got into the car, and then drove away.

I hummed, thinking that rude.

"Ma!" Sonny shouted. "Let's go!"

"I'm coming!" I hurried to get to the entrance. We were at Babies "R" Us.

Since Katie moved out, I've even been happier. I have free rein; can decorate Sonny's guest room—the nursery—however I want because he doesn't care, as long as it gets done. We were here to try and get everything Sonny would need, including furniture.

Earlier this week, I called Lauren. She's throwing the baby shower—not at La Bella Italia—but at _her_ restaurant, the one Aro gave her to keep her mouth shut. It wasn't about gifts or our children; I called to ask her to lunch, so we could go over the guest list . . . Look at me, taking the high road. She may still be a bitch, but I was gonna be the bigger person and extend the olive branch to her stuck-up ass.

She said—no offense—but we're keeping it strictly "family"; meanwhile, I had about fifty extra people we needed to invite. I'm used to planning events—knowing who has to come, so we don't offend or disrespect, those who would come and bring HUGE gifts, just to _show_ respect to Edward and Sonny . . .

My people weren't allowed. But then I brought up Aro. Regardless of paying respect to Edward and Sonny, I'm sure many would like to do so for Aro—his first grandchild, too.

Anyway, Lauren was acting like a giant cunt.

Rather than bop her one, I called Aro. We had a nice long chat—and he totally backed the fuck down. I spelled things out for him, shouted, pleaded—hell, I even threatened him. My son is not the bad guy. He did his best, but—in the end—shit didn't work out, and Katie is a lunatic.

And the end result of the shower guest list . . .

Aro just wants Katie to be happy—to give her what she wants. He asked me to let it go and let it stay small, and I respected that.

Also, since the shower will be a small, intimate event, we obviously can't expect people to buy two of everything—put two of everything on the registry.

Sonny has the list; I could see the papers in his hands as I pulled him in and kiss his forehead. My baby boy has been very happy lately.

Truth be told, I initially thought his involvement with Maggie was fleeting, but it's not.

"Maggie didn't come with you?" I asked. They're inseparable these days.

"She's in school."

I winced, forgetting that small fact. _High school. _

"Then, before they relieve what'sherface at the salon, she's meeting up with Kylie to—" He stopped talking.

"You can tell me anything," I sang, hooking my arm with his as we walked into the store.

"Right, um…I know she's been staying with you and all, but I just thought it best we keep our relationship private. She's not a child…" He looked down to me.

"She's not," I agreed, warily staring up at him. "But she_ is_ young, so if something's going on, being that she's staying with us . . . Placate your Momma, Sonny." I grinned. "I worry . . . she's mature for her age, even I can't deny that, and I do trust your judgment. But if she needs a_ mother's_ help..." Basically, I wanted Sonny and Maggie to know they could come to me with anything.

When she speaks of Sonny, it's like . . . It makes me smile. Just hearing about it makes my stomach fill with butterflies. She talks as if their love spans centuries and not a month. Maggie loves him. She can't stop telling me about it and him, and . . . apparently my son is some pussy virtuoso—he's amazing in bed—and that made me proud. Although Maggie has nothing else to go off of . . .

"What's going on?" I poked his side.

"Maggie's never been to, to a woman's doc before."

"Oh." I nodded, smiling. "And Kylie made her an appointment, is taking her?" Now I was proud of Kylie for stepping up. I bet Mrs. Sullivan never spoke to Maggie about anything sexual.

Sonny nodded. "It was Kylie's idea, and I agreed. I just—I hope—forget it."

"What?" I asked, testing out a shopping cart, hating when I always snag one with a fucked wheel.

"I hope she decides to go on the pill."

"Right." My eyes widened. "Or the shot, the shot is better."

"Ma, I want her to live with me so badly. I'm going to ask her again—for real—tonight. Fuck her parents." He studied the papers in his hands. "We should split up—just grab one of everything."

"No! We can shop together."

"I don't have a lot of time . . ."

"It's ten o'clock in the morning!" I bitched.

"I know . . . but we gotta unload cars, plus traffic if there is any. We have to get this done, but I hoped to take Maggie to an early dinner, or maybe a late lunch. She's leaving school early to go with Kylie. Then I have to head to Eclipse. There are two sit-downs I have to attend."

"Anything interesting?"

He shook his head. "Alex's father, Ronnie? He wants to confer with me about something, and then Luke's coming by."

"Is that why Vinny is picking up Damion?" I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "Is Damion getting involved? But why would he get Damion now?"

"Dame switched his days around, I guess. He's always doing that." He wouldn't look at me. "You should talk to Dad about it. I really don't want to discuss this with you."

I nodded, respecting that, but he'd already lied to me. The way everything's been . . . Damion getting involved doesn't surprise me anymore, but it's still disappointing.

"Besides . . ." He nudged me. "Can't we pick out baby stuff and gush about my beautiful girlfriend?"

I squealed. "Let's!"

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around me and kissing my hair.

"She loves you," I whispered. "A lot—she cares about you."

Sonny nodded, biting his lip. "I think so, too." We walked down an aisle. "What's a boppy pillow?"

"Oh…" I waved a hand. "Yeah, you'll want one." I grabbed one to show him and just threw it into the cart, and then I tossed another one in. I was excited to get stuff for our house, too. All I know is, I have my large purse. I know Sonny intends on paying for everything, but Edward gave me a few grand and said to put the rest on the credit card, so it didn't look suspicious. The furniture was to be our gift, but I have extra money to pay for whatever—not wanting to spare any expense. "Have you told Maggie you love her?"

"I really don't wanna scare her...come on too strong. I'm sure—feel it in my gut—that she loves me, too, and you just confirmed it." He winked. "I tell her all the time when she's sleeping…"

"Awww . . . really?" I gazed at him, letting out a dreamy sigh. "You watch her sleep?"

He ducked his head, furrowing his brow and checking out a sippy cup. My son was totally trying to play it off, embarrassed, a pink hue to his cheeks. And the fact that Sonny was blushing . . .

"Somethin' wrong with that?" he asked, quirking a defensive eyebrow. Sonny resembled Edward a bit.

I shook my head no, thinking it was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard. "Not at all. And I'm your mother...No need to be ashamed."

"I'm not." He turned to grin at me.

"Good."

While Maggie's been staying with us, they see each other frequently. Sonny usually picks her up from school, and she spends most of the entire weekend at his place. It's only been a few weeks—us living by this arrangement—but it's working.

My husband and I don't mind having Maggie around at all. She's actually a good influence on Kylie, and those two are inseparable as well. Maggie keeps Kylie out of trouble, and our daughter's like the third wheel in that relationship. Sonny's spending a lot of time with his sister, too, and he doesn't seem to mind.

Edward has noticed quite a few changes in Kylie's behavior—and has let up a lot when it comes to being strict.

I still have Kylie working for everything, but . . . she's free to do what she wants, within reason.

There's always the issue of her safety.

"Well, Dad spoke to Mr. Sullivan last night." I waited to gauge Sonny's reaction. "They, uh, they went for a drink on Third…"

"Like that man needs to drink." Sonny was sarcastic. "And I bet he sat there and smiled at Dad—such a hypocrite."

"First of all—"

"Don't defend him. The shit he did to Shaky." He threw something into the cart. "Plus, do you have any idea what he called us? Yeah, he said we were Italian pieces of shit."

I put my hand up to stop him.

"He said it more like _shite_, but you get the picture."

"Robert, Mr. Sullivan," I raised my voice a bit, "fears your father. It's all over his face, and yet _his daughter_ is staying with us . . . _Italian pieces of shit_." That slur should have bothered me a lot more than it did, but I can understand people saying things in anger. "Maggie's mother, Kathy, won't even speak to her . . ." I trailed off, getting into bottle systems now. Katie had hardly anything on the list. "Um—" I pointed. "There's like nothing here for bottle."

"Katie's going to breast-feed."

"But _you_ can't!" I exclaimed.

"Oh…" Sonny burst into a fit of chuckles. "Right. Get whatever then—like, what Katie has, only more of it." He shrugged.

"Fuck." I shook my head. "She's gonna have to pump a lot, or you'll have to give the baby formula."

Sonny stared like he had no idea what I was talking about.

"It's best the baby only has one kind—breast or synthetic, not both . . . although it's not unheard of." I stuck out my tongue. "It's common, actually. Just pray she doesn't have stomach issues." I did the Sign of the Cross.

Sonny nodded. "We'll figure it out—whatever—and we can always bring stuff back, exchange it." He looked around. "Maybe we can focus on the bigger stuff—the crib, high chair, whatever, just get the room ready. It's painted…ready for us to move everything in," he laughed. "I have a pink bedroom in my apartment."

I laughed, agreeing with his plans. It sounded legit.

"But tell me more about Dad and Mr. Sullivan." He sneered saying the man's name.

"He made a mistake—was drunk, acted out. I mean, come on, Sonny." I nudged him. "If we weren't who we are—if Kylie came home with you, with your age and what you do for a living . . . it's a shock, especially since she was on her way to becoming a nun. Think about it. We're Catholic, but they're _really_ Catholic. We have Ansel Adams shit on our walls—along with other art—and they have crucifixes all over, giant pictures of the Pope, Jesus, and Mary. I've been inside that house before—a while back."

"But—"

"And, come on, let's face it. A grown man? He knows you two are having sex—doing God knows what." I raised a brow, as I've heard Maggie and Kylie discussing some things—caught Kylie giving a banana a blowjob to show Maggie, and then Kylie showed her once more—later that day—with a Twizzler. Again, I was proud—Kylie's got skills.

"What we do is what we do. She's inquisitive, curious." He fucking giggled like a little girl.

I shook my head. "No matter what, though, Mr. Sullivan can't give you guys his blessing. If she moves back in, she has to say goodbye to you. Dad talked him down—got him to agree to be civilized with Maggie if she continues to stay with us, or . . . move in with you. But then their religion plays a big part. You'd be living in sin with his daughter—"

"Not if we got married…" He turned away from me.

"Is that something you want?" I asked him. "Do you think Maggie's ready for all this—your life? What being your wife would entail?"

"It has nothing to do with work—"

"I'm not talking about that either," I said. "Your daughter will be staying with you three days a week." I was surprised when Sonny and Katie worked it out so fast.

When Katie's out of the hospital, their daughter will stay with her for two weeks while Katie tries to narrow down a routine. Sonny can visit however much he wants. He managed to get her a two-bedroom apartment on Third Avenue. It's not downstairs, but it's a few blocks away. Sonny could sprint there if he had to. He also got painters—is paying to have that place baby-ready as soon as possible.

He's a good kid—my son, responsible.

But two weeks after the baby is born, Sonny will have his daughter from Thursday evening until Sunday afternoon.

I think Katie did that on purpose, to fuck with Sonny's weekends, but I didn't say shit about it.

And I'm sure Grandma Bella won't mind baby-sitting.

I actually can't wait.

"Maggie can accept my child—she said so. It doesn't bother her—"

"Now. Right now it doesn't bother her, but it might when she's born and you're spending all this time with Katie . . . when the baby will always come first and she's second, when she'll wanna go out on the weekends, but you'll have your daughter—"

"Where does Maggie go?" he laughed. "Church? And I'll be taking care of her—the both of them. While my daughter will need me, Maggie doesn't need her parents. Even if I wasn't in the picture, she has a scholarship. Maggie said she can study her religion and other things. She doesn't have to become a nun."

"No, she's right . . ." I wondered how much Sonny really knew. "The University of Saint Mary is a Liberal Arts college . . . in Kansas."

He whipped around to face me. "What? I thought—why did I think it was in Queens?" He shook his head. "I gotta talk to her—" He went to just walk away from me.

"No. We have to get this done." I pulled on his sleeve. "Saint John's is in Queens, I think," I said as an afterthought. "Has she mentioned college at all?"

He shook his head. "Only that she wasn't 100% on the nun thing. She's leaning towards nursing. The only thing she's sure of?" He smiled. "Is me. She wants to be with me . . . everything else is everything else."

I sighed, not wanting to tell him the rest of what Mr. Sullivan actually said to Edward.

As we picked up a few smaller things on our way to the bigger things, we didn't talk. We just shopped for a bit.

Their religious beliefs are very important. While they can't accept who Sonny is, they really cannot accept them "living in sin" or even having sex. They're more disappointed in her for possibly having pre-marital sex, but if Sonny put a ring on her finger—made her honest—there's a chance the Sullivans could learn to accept them as a couple.

If they do the "right" thing . . .

Sonny wants Maggie all to himself, while Maggie's not ready to just forget about her parents—no matter how much she truly loves my son. If push came to shove, she'd choose Sonny, but why should she have to, when people should just come to terms with shit? Where there's a will there's a way, I always say.

It reminded me of those early days . . . those days where everything was up in the air, that achy stomach feeling, knowing you have to make a decision, but the choice had already been made.

Like me, Maggie would choose Sonny, just as I chose Edward…

I should be worried about her age, like my husband—who's unsure, who thinks Sonny is going to get hurt in the long run, but I can't. I'm a romantic, and love…that powerful, all-consuming love is just magical.

To this day, I don't regret the decisions I've made.

Maybe Maggie wouldn't either?

"This sucks." He groaned. "Not living with me is one thing, but moving to Kansas? Even if I visited her on weekends—"

"You can't visit her on weekends, Sonny—the baby?"

"Why couldn't I take her with me?" He shrugged. "By the time Maggie would be there, my kid would be almost a year old. It was a thought…whatever. Long-distance relationships don't work."

"I'm still surprised you'd be willing to visit, that you're this serious about her." I reached up to pinch his cheek. "That's a big step for you." He'd do anything for the woman he loved, that I knew, because that's how much I knew about his father. But while my son has . . . probably screwed dozens of women, he's new to love—one that doesn't include Katie.

Sonny's even more gone than he'd ever been where Katie was concerned, and Maggie . . . She has a good heart, one of the best.

"Maybe she'll want to go to school close by? She said she got early acceptance, which means she didn't apply anywhere else. She still has plenty of time before she graduates. We'll talk about it—get her to apply." He nodded. "Fuck. We Cullens have how many connections at NYU? She could go there."

"What if she wants to go to Kansas?"

He paused and rubbed his chest. "I'd have to say goodbye."

I palmed his cheek. "I don't think it will come to that."

"I'd pay her tuition—I don't care about money or circumstances. I just want her to be with me—just be." My baby had tears in his eyes, which was shocking and very fucking sad. "Let's just—just get this shopping over with." He looked to his watch, blinking rapidly. "I can still take her to dinner and do what I gotta do at Eclipse." He took his phone out. "I just have to cancel on Ron."

"Cancel?" That didn't sound like Sonny at all, and Edward wouldn't be pleased.

"Reschedule—it's bullshit." He placed his cell to his ear. "If it was important, I'd have Carlisle up my ass about it. Yo, wassup?" He turned from me.

I nodded as I strolled, giving him privacy for his phone call.

We didn't talk for a while. We picked out the furniture. Sonny went with white because it would go better with the pink—white wooden crib, changing table, and chest of drawers. We also picked out a nice plush rocking chair and ottoman set. It's all to be delivered tomorrow.

From there, we went to bedding. I liked this floral crib set and Sonny liked one with animals, so we got both—they both matched the color scheme. But we also grabbed all the things I knew he'd need—a lot more sheets, packages of onesies which were close by, socks…We filled the second cart up in that one aisle. It seemed like a lot of stuff, but it's not like Sonny would have his own baby shower.

I wasn't worried about clothes, really.

I had plans and Sonny agreed… It was something that will make Kylie very happy.

My plan was to let her loose—let her shop for her baby niece's wardrobe. She was going to shit herself in happiness.

An hour later, it turned out that all of the shit we bought wouldn't fit in Sonny's car—not that _I_ thought it would. We had to wait for Sonny's friend Mike to come by with his Jeep.

All the big stuff—the stuff that came in big boxes—was to be delivered tomorrow, too—a separate delivery.

Mike drove on ahead of us, while Sonny and I were in his car. He'd given his buddy his keys, and Mike was fine with unpacking as we walked toward the tanning salon.

Kylie and Maggie just got back from the doctor.

"So…" I slowed us down since we didn't have far to go at all. "Are you still not talking to Damion?" It was true, and I think Amelia is doing Dame's laundry. Those two are happy—wish they had more time for each other, but they're content—no drama on their front. Now they love each other, and they have no problems showing it or saying it.

"I've seen him around."

"You have?" I asked, since they don't exactly chill within the same circles, but . . . yeah. Damion was getting involved.

"Here and there." He was short.

"I think…that if Damion knew how you felt about Maggie, he'd—I don't know." I honestly had no clue what Dame's intentions were when he acted out and went for Sonny. Did he really like Maggie, too? Was he actually jealous? I had no idea. He's said it was because Sonny doesn't know how to treat women. He was looking out for her. Sonny would "hit it and run", and Maggie's not like that, but she's persuasive.

"I'm tired of a lot of things, but most of all, Mom…I'm tired of his garbage." He rolled his eyes. "All the lying, manipulating…I can't anymore. I try to be there. I try to be the best brother I can be . . . He's just…he's Damion. He's also not the person he pretends to be when you're around."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"That's an issue for another day. I have an hour to grab a quick bite before—"

"Right. I don't want to screw up your plans." I patted his back. "But we've spoken about her parents, Katie, and the baby . . . Are you keeping Dame away from you because of Maggie? Are_ you_ jealous?"

He shook his head. "Not in the slightest, but I'd hurt him—maybe I wouldn't kill him—but if he fucked with her? Did something? Mom, I'd go nuts; every logical thought I'd have would fly out the window. My keeping my distance is preventative until he either backs off, or…I don't know. Furthermore, I don't know why he's so concerned. He should focus on his own relationship."

I nodded, although Damion hasn't even tried to come home while Maggie's been staying with us. A large part of me wants Maggie to move in with Sonny, but only because my house—my family dynamic—would go back to normal. Of course I feel weird that Dame isn't around as much. It saddens me and I miss him like crazy, but it's not only Maggie and Sonny that keeps him away. There's something going on between Edward and Damion.

I needed to have a long chat with my husband—one I've been putting off for weeks.

"Hey!" Kylie was all smiles when we walked in. The lobby was actually empty, both my daughter and Maggie sitting behind the counter.

Sonny, of course he went right to Maggie—to stick his tongue down her throat. She blushed, giggled, and hugged him tightly—all of which made _me_ giggle.

"They had my test results—I totally forgot about them and they said they called, but…" Kylie was going a hundred words a minute. "I'm clean—no STDs."

"Thank God for that." I kissed her hair, but Dr. Scott's office did call. Doris—the nurse—told me, although it wasn't ethical. I've known about my daughter being STD-free and not pregnant for weeks. And then I felt horrible that I forgot about it. But she forgot about that shit too, and it's _her_ body. I wasn't sure which to feel more uneasy about.

"Oh." Kylie tapped on Sonny's shoulder. "You owe me forty dollars."

"I said I'd give it back to you when I got my check." Maggie's tone was hushed.

"Fuck that!" Kylie exclaimed. "If he's gonna tap it, he can pay for your pizznills."

"Her what?" I was lost, even though I was laughing.

"He put her on Ortho-Tri-Cyclen Lo. Just like me," Kylie told me.

"Ky-lie," Maggie whispered.

"Oh, shut up with your shy shit."

"Hey!" Sonny scolded.

Kylie shrugged. "If she wants to be in this family . . ."

I laughed, taking Maggie's old seat. "You guys have fun—"

"No. I'm hungry. Lemme get my purse." Kylie went to leave.

I stopped her. "Daddy's working late. We'll order something."

Kylie frowned. "I wanna go—hang out."

"I'm bringing her right back here in an hour," Sonny said. And he would let his sister tag along, no matter what he had to discuss with Maggie. "But it's fine." He shrugged. "You can come."

"No," I said. "I'm sure they wanna be alone." I poked Kylie's side.

"Right." She settled down. "I don't wanna see you drool and paw at her anyway . . . But give me my money." She held out her hand.

Sonny smiled as he slapped a fifty down. "You can keep the change."

"Excellent." Kylie stuffed it into her pocket. "Maggie also…" She stared at her friend. "She'd never tell you, but…she wants to go shopping, and she wants me to come with—"

"No, I don't," Maggie said.

Kylie scoffed. "But don't I get a finder's fee?" she asked. "If it weren't for me…Can't you take _me_ shopping?"

Sonny cocked a brow and slapped her hand with his—giving her a high-five, and then the happy couple left the tanning salon. I wasn't sure, but that might have been his way of agreeing.

"Don't do that . . . are you that far gone?" I was sad. "You _have to_ shop? Absolutely have to?"

"It was a joke." She put her head down on the counter. "A joke. He knows I'm not serious. I'm just jealous…no one's handcuffing me to my bed or buying me shit...no one's feeding me chocolate truffles."

"Okay." I nodded. "I get it."

"Let's do something." Her eyes widened. "Dinner and a movie?"

"We're open until nine." There wasn't a customer in the place and there were only two appointments later on, but still. Since I was hungry, too, I grabbed the take-out menus. "Talk to me about Peto. What's up with him?"

She pursed her lips. "He misses me…" She was smirking now. "It was so funny, last night." Now she was giggling. "You know we have Skype sex."

I giggled, too.

"Well, when he came, I was really close to the computer, and it like…it was almost like his jizz came flying at me." She moved her arms, becoming animated. "I jumped back like it'd get in my eye."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh my God."

"But he'll be here soon for Thanksgiving."

"Two days," I said, dreading the thought of how much shopping I still have to do. I got most of it done yesterday, but there's always more. Vinny had somewhere to be. Edward always tells them that my time is more important. I cut the kid some slack, though. "You're making dinner with me—you're helping."

"Can't Maggie do it? I think that's more her styz."

"What?" I asked.

"Her style. I swear. She's like the daughter you always wanted, second to Amelia—"

"Hey!" I pushed her. "_You're_ the daughter I've always wanted. I have you, and I love you."

"But you're so nice—"

I shook my head. "Kylie, you're my best friend." I grabbed her hand. "But I'm also your mother. Sometimes, I don't care if I don't look or act cool—"

"Being cool has nothing to do with parenting," she said.

"Exactly."

"I just feel like…" She slumped her shoulders.

"I'm always proud of you," I said. "I love you more than I could ever explain. But you'll be going all the way to Texas, and I won't be there." I hated that I started tearing. "I want to make sure that you'll be all right. You're maturing before my very eyes." I gestured to her.

She sighed. "I know you love me."

"Good. You're doing so much better with the spending, you're helping me around the house. I just wish your father didn't give you free rein whenever youse two enter a store." I snorted, wiping my eyes.

Kylie rested her head on my shoulder. "He does it to keep me quiet, and I ramble and fuck with him so he does," she giggled. "But you're right. Maggie said she can't cook—doesn't know how. Her parents always had her studying or praying, and her mom cooked. I don't know. She was like their prisoner or something." She sniffed me, my neck.

I petted her head. "We just have a lot of stuff to do. You help me with this dinner. We can cook a lot tomorrow, and I'll keep Dad out of your way the rest of the weekend. Deal?"

"Oh boy! Hell-fucking-yeah!" She kissed my cheek. "Can you get us a hotel room?"

"No," I said, although I felt a twinge of something. "I can't personally do it . . . it wouldn't be right. Um…maybe Amelia or Anthony? They're of age and might hook you up." All they'd have to do is pay for it and get the room key. "But you can't stay out all night again without calling. When you do call—close to your curfew—I'll be there to talk to Dad, give you a few more hours. You can't sleep at this hotel."

"I want strawberries, champagne, and cuffs … and I wanna strip him down when he comes in…" She was in a daze, biting a pen. "I wanna sit on his face. I've never done _that_ before…"

I smiled as I continued to pet her head, push her messy, long bangs back.

I love how open and honest Kylie is with me. No matter what, I try not to judge, so she will be comfortable speaking to me about all things—everything.

"He's horny as fuck, too—he said so."

"I bet," I giggled. "Why don't I order us food and you go next door—get a mani/pedi?" She has been good, and a reward would spur her on. "It's empty today, but it might not be tomorrow, and we have other stuff to do."

Her eyes widened. "I need a wax, too. It's been a while . . ." She leaned into me. "Did you know that Maggie has a small bush?" she whispered. "I asked her if she ever did any grooming because…well, now that I know better, I always have to plan—because I don't get to see Gio every day. But I will when I get to Texas." Now she was pouting. "I'm gonna miss you like mad . . . my momma."

"I'll miss you, too." I welcomed her into my arms. She'd thrown herself at me. "But you're also going there to go to school."

"What if—" She backed away and she was crying.

"Hey." I touched her cheek.

She sniffled, staring up to the ceiling. "God . . . What's wrong with me? I should go—go away, get away from Dad and his bullshit, have my freedom and stuff . . . But I'm gonna miss you." Her lip quivered. "You, Sonny, even Dad, and definitely Damion. Now I'll miss Maggie. Oh—Katie and the baby, although I won't really miss Katie." She rambled on. "I won't be here for the baby, and Sonny says I'm the godmother."

Their choosing the godparents was news to me. "You'll visit and we'll visit you, too."

"Baby Izzy . . . I don't even know her yet, but I want to."

"Baby Izzy?" I asked.

"Sonny wants to name her after you. That's what I call her—Baby Izzy."

"Oh, that's adorable." I gushed.

"What if I talked Gio into going to school here? Uncle Aro would—he'd be over the moon. Parents want their kids in college. But it doesn't really matter which one." She nodded. "And Gio would be back in New York."

"Kylie." I grasped her chin, turning her to face me. "Go to Texas or stay here—all I want is for you to be happy."

"Maggie's applying for more scholarships—I helped her fill out the paperwork. She doesn't want to go away, and it'd be awesome if we all went to the same school. Maggie and I can do the freshman thing together."

"What's good for Maggie—staying here in New York—might not be good for you. You're also basing your decision on Peto and your friend." I felt like I should give Maggie the same advice I was about to give Kylie. Although Sonny might hate me for it.

"Do Mom a favor, okay? I want you to think—tonight, before you go to bed, I want you to think really hard. Don't worry about anyone else—no one else, or what they'd think, or who you'll miss. I want you to think about what Kylie wants. Can you do that?"

"Yeah," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "I'm really lucky—I realize that now after hanging out with Maggie. Dad threatens to hit me, but I know he never will. You'd kill him. And when Maggie's dad..." Her face crumbled again. "He hit her."

"Maggie's fine," I said, my mush-monster threatening to break my heart. My daughter walks around, talking like some tough guy, like she's "gangsta". But below the surface, she's incredibly emotional and has a huge heart. "She's fine, baby."

"Sonny will protect her, and I will too." She wiped her eyes. "I know you're trying to teach me, show me. But I know how good I've had it from seeing how crappy her parents are. Plus, when I wanted to marry Joe, you guys supported me. You guys are the best." She hugged me again, and I didn't have a comment. "You guys always love me and support me no matter what."

"No matter what," I agreed.

"Um…can I tell you a secret?" she asked.

I nodded, nestling into my Kylie. "Of course."

"I think Joe's dead."

"What?" I shook my head.

"I haven't seen him in forever—"

"How does this make you feel?" I palmed her cheek. "Look at me and talk to me." I knew I should have squashed those thoughts, lied to her, but I couldn't.

She's observant and picks up on a lot. She also knows we don't talk about certain things. I knew I didn't ever have to worry about her sharing her thoughts with others.

Edward told me it couldn't be helped. Joe had taken a shot at Caius after Damion broke up the fight. I thought my husband was lying to me . . . that night, the look Dame had in his eyes, I recognized it. I thought Damion clipped Joe.

The bottom line is that I don't really know, although I hope it happened the way Edward said. My son is a good person. He also wants to be a healer…

There's been no downfall either—no funerals to attend, and I haven't even seen Marissa at church. No one's talking about Joe and Marissa's family at all.

"I dunno…" She shrugged. "Fuck him—I don't care."

I blew out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding. "You wouldn't? I heard he went to California." It was true; I did hear that.

"Then that would explain it…I never loved Joe. Fuck, Ma. I never even liked Joe. It was a crush—something stupid, like how Maggie liked Damion. She didn't _really_ like him—she didn't even know him, like I didn't know Joe."

"When you're young…each feeling feels important—mistaking like for love, because Joe made you feel better about Peto . . ."

"Yeah," she agreed. "But then I saw who he really was—a douche bag. Thank God Gio came to the party." She got quiet, and I enjoyed the silence.

"Dad's not so bad," she whispered after a while. "I'd miss him a lot, too. If he'd just take a fucking chill pill sometimes . . . He's funny when he relaxes and HE'S not being a douche."

I chuckled. "You've got him pegged."

"I love Daddy, too. I just—I don't want you to think I don't."

"I know you do, baby." I kissed her cheek, right as a customer came in.

That was when Kylie decided it was time to get her nails done.

**/=/=/=/=/**

**SONNY**

**/=/=/=/=/**

_**M**_aggie actually wanted McDonald's, but I think she decided that when I was worrying about making it to Eclipse on time. Either way, what my girl wants she gets, and we had just enough time to stop by the apartment before she'd go back to the salon.

It took us fifteen minutes to get food and bring it back to my crib.

But then I forgot all about it.

I wasn't really hungry...for food.

"Look at all this stuff." Maggie's eyes darted around the living room. Although I asked Mike to put it all in the nursery, he put it all here—just threw the shit in. We made it back in time, when he was just finishing up. He tossed me my keys, and I pulled Maggie upstairs with me.

"I have to go through it and unpack—gotta set up the nursery," I said, skimming my nose along her neck. Seeing Maggie in her fucking school uniform drives me insane—the skirt, the shirt, the knee socks, and the headbands she wears. "Take this off." I grabbed for her peacoat to push it down.

"Don't you have to go?" She held my shoulders, stopping me.

I shook my head, trailing my hands down to her ass—hoisting her up onto the dining room table. "Do you want me to go?"

"No." She grinned. "I know you have stuff to do." Maggie placed her lips to mine, her hands rubbing up my chest—my fucking chest felt tight with excitement, having this unexpected time.

"You decided to go on the pill." I took her headband away from her hair.

"Um, yeah. I figured it'd be smart because condoms aren't 100%?"

I nodded, inching my hands up her thighs. "You wearing boxers?" Chuckling, I moved her skirt up to see a pair of my Armani briefs.

"I borrowed them—it's getting cold out." She kissed along my neck, her hands grasping my nine to discard it to her side.

That's one of the things I loved about her—she never judges me, and she's always down to fuck, or "make love" as she calls it. She adapts well, and once I—pretty much—showed her how my nine worked, she was no longer scared of it.

Same shit happened with my cock . . .

Once she learned the mechanics . . .

"How lucky am I to have a boyfriend I can't stop kissing?" She palmed my cheeks, going for my lips.

I smiled into her mouth as I pulled the boxers and her panties down. When I went for her shirt again, she stopped me.

"We don't have a lot of time." She unzipped me, a coy grin developing on her lips. "Can we do it here, not in bed?"

"Anywhere you want." I jolted when she grasped my cock. Nowadays, she has a good grip, knows how to work me. Of course, I had shown her, but it was awfully fun.

Before my slacks fell, I grabbed a condom. I've come to just keeping them shits in my pocket.

Because . . . what if I needed more than one? I'd love to hit it raw, and my father was right—that'd I'd be so desperate to keep her with me, I'd knock her up. It's a thought that came to mind—one that I fought hard to forget, and I hated myself for it. I'm glad she'll be on the pill now. It was also weird that . . . not that Dad knew I could love, but _how much_ I could.

When she's not with me, having rubbers makes no difference, but when I know she'll be around . . . We sneak away, find opportunities whenever we can. It's not like we can get busy in my parents' guest room, although I'd love to fuck her on my bed there.

She leaned back, shrugging the rest of the way out of her coat, as I rolled one on. "Um…when the pills are working, can we try without a condom?" she asked.

I nodded, and she'd never know how much I wanted that shit too.

"I had STD tests done today. Before we do it without, I think you should get tested. It's kind of dumb. Even if we haven't had unprotected sex…we did other stuff. You know? Kylie told me...you've been with a lot of women."

I cocked a brow, nodding. "Yes. I can definitely do that. My last one was three months ago—I was clean."

I haven't been with that many women since then anyway. I always used condoms with Lori. That one time I fucked Misty and Paula_ I_ had protection, although I watched more than I did that day. I definitely used one with Brenda when I was at La Bella Italia back in September. But I didn't use anything while I was with Bianca at the rehearsal dinner, or those two times Katie gave it up.

"Cool. I didn't—I didn't know if you'd—"

"I'd want to because I'd never _want_ to hurt you," I said, just staring at her, taking her in. God. She was beautiful. "Lie back." My hands rested on her calves as she planted her feet on the table. "Just—I wanna look at you." If I couldn't get the whole picture—her naked—I wanted to absorb what I could. She has school tomorrow, and I wouldn't see her until the afternoon. "Have you ever—touched yourself?" I asked, not sure if she had. I gave Maggie her first orgasm on the roof on Halloween.

"Yes," she giggled. "It's weird—I just could never make myself come." She kept her voice down.

I looked around us. "Who can hear you?" She really was a shy person. "Can _I_ see you do it?" Taking her hand, I placed it on her thigh, my hand over hers. "It'd be sexy as fuck." I slid our combined touch up, and that's when I really saw her. She was bald—down there—and I really liked the way she was.

"You shaved?" I placed her hand on her pussy.

"Yeah." She rubbed her index finger down her lips.

"Why?" My eyes stayed between her legs.

"I wanted to," she sighed.

"Okay." I nodded, licking my lips and wanting to go down on her. From where I was standing and with the light up above, her fucking pussy glistened. She was soaked already, and I hadn't done much.

"I'd rather have _you_ touching me," she said, squirming, her fingers rubbing up and down, her legs coming up to touch my sides. "Santino, just fuck me." She moaned, and hearing her say that . . . "I want you—we don't have that much time."

"Don't—don't worry about time." I pulled her closer to me by her legs, leaving her ass at the edge of the table. "Christ…I just—" I couldn't get over how beautiful she was, how lucky I was having this gorgeous girl below me.

I hovered over her, grasping my cock and aligning us. "You sure?" I like to tease.

She fisted my shirt, pulling herself up to kiss me, and then she bit my chin, my neck, weaving her fingers into my hair.

"Get back down there." I gave her a gentle push, which made her giggle.

She lay flat on her back. "I hate when you tease me—it's mean." Now she was pouting.

I ran my dick up her slit, leaning into her clit, and then brought it back down.

"Oh God…" Her legs fell wider.

I brought it up and then back down. And I was about to go back to her clit, but I entered her swiftly instead—pausing to groan and calm myself a bit. She was snug, wet, and warm—the perfect fit.

"I love your cock," she blurted through a sigh, and then covered her mouth.

I laughed, going down to her—taking her hand away to hold them both above her head in one of mine. "I love you." I searched her eyes, touching my nose to hers. "You know that, right?"

But then tears filled her gaze, her lip quivering. "I love you, too."

"Good." I felt so much better, letting out a breath. "Amazing…I love you." My hips started to move, picking up a steady rhythm, my lips softly touching hers.

"I'm happy—almost too happy." Her hands moved in mine. "Can I touch you?"

I let go; she ran her hands up my chest, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

Holding the outside of her thigh, I brought her leg up to hitch it around my waist—get in there better, deeper, hit it harder. "Fuck—"

"You and your filthy mouth." She grabbed my chin, kissing me wildly, biting my lip—it was sloppy and our teeth bumped together.

But her words . . .

Her actions . . .The way she kisses me—how her kisses make me feel . . .

A growl vibrated through my chest, and I tossed her down—grabbing her ankle to turn her over. She was surprised by my rapid movements, but adjusted herself fast—sticking her ass out.

"Do it—do it—oh my God…"

My cock had never really left her, and all I needed to do was slightly push, but I pushed hard—placing my hand on her shoulder to ram it to her good. "Shit…" I was the deepest I could go, and she gasped.

Maggie kept moaning and mewling, slouching down, and I brought her skirt up, needing a full view of her ass—watching my cock come out and then disappear.

She'd also meet my thrusts, rapidly, and like she couldn't get enough either.

Inside, I was too wild—too excited—and this is what scares me. I know I can be rough, what most might call a passionate lover, but she's delicate . . . I also wanted to lift her up and hug her to me tight—we're never close enough.

"I—fucking—I—love—you—so—much." I pulled out to lift her, turn her onto her back, needing to look at her face.

As I gathered her into my arms, I let myself fall back into a chair.

"I love you, too." She grabbed my dick, and then awkwardly moved to sit on it. Between me and the chair, I'm obviously a foot taller than her, she couldn't place her feet on the floor.

I used my arms to trap her legs, resting my hands on her shoulders as she moved her hips to fuck me. It was hot—too, so—very fucking hot.

Watching caused me to gasp, that tightness back in my chest, my one hand fumbling to move the skirt—twirl my thumb around her clit. "You have to live with me." My words were rushed, just like everything else. "You have to—please."

Rapidly, I moved us again—needing more, needing control, needing to calm the fuck down. She lay back on the table, thrashing below me, and she hadn't answered me yet. How I felt in the moment was too important, though.

With no abandon, I fucked her fast and hard—still needing that control.

"Oh my God—Santino!" She clawed at my back, whining. "I need—I need—" _She_ needed to come.

"I know—I know what you need, baby." I slowed, massaging her clit with my thumb. "How's that?"

"Oh…" She tossed her head back, leaving her mouth open, her eyes closed. "Yes...just like that." She moaned, her hips moving in time with mine. "I'm—I'm—I'm—" She came, letting out a squeak, her pussy hugging me even tighter, and her body was shaking—my favorite part.

Then I fucked her slowly, palming her breasts. "You good?" I rubbed down her biceps.

She opened her eyes to smile. "Fantastic." Her chest heaved and she giggled. "And yeah…I will."

My hips rolled, bringing her leg to rest on my shoulder. "You will, what?" I kissed her ankle, skimming my nose on her smooth knee sock.

"I'll move in . . . if, if it's okay with everyone—obviously not my parents." She frowned before she shook her head. "I don't care—don't wanna think about them."

I grunted, picking up speed and hovering over her. "Fuck everyone."

"'K." She cupped her hands around my neck. "Just…you let go," she whispered, staring into my eyes, and I had no idea—no fucking clue—as to how she knew what I needed. "I'm not made of glass."

"Thank God for that," I laughed, too fucking happy. "I'm a bull in a china shop."

She giggled and stuck her tongue out to lick my lips. "I like it…when you just _fuck_ me," she whispered the word fuck. "When you bang into my pussy—like you can't get enough and you go wild." She likes to write, and this is the best part of that. She doesn't just say things—she fucking elaborates, almost tells the story.

Fast, with no regard, I did exactly as she said. Maggie stayed on her back, her nails clawing into the table as she watched me fuck her. Suddenly, chasing my orgasm was like a race—I had to have it, had to win, make it to the finish line.

"Fuck." I came, a sweaty, fucking panting mess, nearly collapsing on top of her. "You—You—" I couldn't even talk.

She giggled. "I'm fine—more than fine."

"Good." I claimed that mouth.

But she pushed me back. "You really have to go."

I nodded, knowing she had to get back to the salon, too. "You call me later, text me—whatever. But I'll pick you up from school tomorrow . . . we'll get your stuff and bring it here."

She nodded, reaching for her panties, yet she was frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"Just a random thought." She smiled sadly.

"Talk to me." I backed up to discard the condom and fix my pants.

"No…I don't—I don't want you to be mad at me."

"Don't worry about that." I helped her with her panties, and then grabbed the boxers. "Do you want sweats? You're only going across the street." It's near the end of November, and it's already bitterly cold.

"Thank you—yes. I have to use the bathroom anyway." She left the table, and I stared after—watching her go.

I followed after her but went to the bedroom. Last week, I bought her sneakers and they were still here. With sweats, a sweater, and the sneakers, I chilled outside the bathroom. "You can tell me anything . . . I don't want you worried about me getting mad."

The toilet flushed, and she opened the door before she washed her hands. As she did that I unbuttoned the skirt and helped to dress her bottom.

"I can dress myself," she giggled.

I backed off, knowing I can be too much sometimes. "Can you please tell me what's on your mind? Mine'll be fucked all night if you don't." I massaged her shoulders.

She pulled the sweats up, pulling the string to tighten them. "I, um, on Saturday—"

"Something's been bothering you since Saturday?" I shook my head. "Maggie—"

"I don't know—yeah." She put the sweater on over her shirt. "Now I look like a gray blob." My clothes were obviously too big for her.

But I disagreed with her. "You're still gorgeous. Adorable." I yanked her in for a hug.

"Who's Layla?" she asked.

I furrowed my brow, wondering how she even knew the name. "She's a manager at the club—at Eclipse."

"Oh . . . I just—Katie, I get, but . . ."

"What about her?" I asked, making her look up to me.

"When you were sleeping, your phone rang. I didn't want to answer it, but then I saw her name—a girl's name. I answered it."

I chuckled. "Okay."

"I told her you were sleeping, and that's it. But then later on, I heard you talking and laughing while on the phone . . . then I heard her voice _through_ the phone. Um." She looked down.

I tried to remember what was said. "One of the bartenders called out. She had to find coverage, but wanted me to know."

"Oh…" Her hands fidgeted. "But it's just you and me, right? Because I can't—I shouldn't move in with you if you're a liar and a cheater." She swallowed, and I could tell that she was trying not to cry.

"You and me," I said. "Just you and me. I love you, and when I'm with you—you, Maggie—I'm the happiest I've ever been in my entire life."

Her frown pulled into a grin.

"I mean that." I touched her lip. "But you have to trust me…if you don't, we won't work out, and I need us to work out—I need you." I thought about my next words, I thought about the mistakes I'd made in the past. "There are going to be times where you'll need to place a lot of faith in me, times when I might not be able to tell you certain things. You need to trust me—know that I'd _never_ hurt you, that I love and respect you, that I honor you and what we have. And you need to respect a few things, too—boundary-wise with my work."

"Wow." Her lip quivered.

"Don't you dare cry." I tickled her sides.

"We're being honest." She nodded, smiling very wide. "You make me feel—actually feel more than I've ever in my whole life. It was like I was this robot before . . . I do trust you…just my brain was messing with me. You say things, and then she calls, and I don't care when you talk to Katie. I understand that whole situation—you've explained it well. Her…Layla…she just—I didn't know who she was."

"You should have asked me that day, woken me up," I laughed. "Layla knows all about you . . . She was actually in my office that day—Halloween—when my mom called?" I was still chuckling. "She told me to be your Prince Charming."

"You still are." She grabbed my hand.

I nodded. "I'll be yours until—until you push me away."

"Your mom told me some stuff...about your job?"

"What about it?" I asked.

"Just that—like you said. I have to trust you, and I shouldn't push for information...ask questions to things I won't want the answers to." She looked confused. "Blind faith, only it's not blind because I see—I have you right here. I'm sure there will be things I'm curious about. Like...is it like the movies?" She scrunched her nose.

I shook my head. "Not for me. I do my best to work around a few things...It's not as violent as the movies," I lied. "Well..."

"Shhh." She placed her hand on my mouth.

I hugged her the tightest I could, swearing she was my soul mate or some shit—not knowing if there was something that meant more than love. She fucking understood, or she didn't want to know; meanwhile, that made me want to tell her for some reason—trust her and spill my guts.

"I love you." She rasped. And she probably couldn't breathe.

"I love you, too." We needed to stop, or I was going to be very late. My phone—speaking of it—was already vibrating in my pocket.

"When can I go to the club?" she asked, pulling her hair out of the sweater.

"Um…" That stumped me. "It's not like Midnight Sun."

"Oh…" She sat on the toilet to change her shoes.

"It caters to, to gentlemen…"

"It's exclusive?" She scrunched her nose. "Kylie says she wants to go."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Well—"

"You're going to be late."

"It was worth it." I palmed her cheek, sneaking down to snag one last sloppy kiss.

**Thank you for reading.**

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**I'm so glad they're reposting these! Adult stories FOR adults. Amazing, really great. Check them out.**

**FIC RECS: Two of my favorites are BACK!**

**Scars and Souvenirs by Ashma0407**

RE-POST...A pending divorce, kids and reconnecting with a lost love. *Working summary* (**Lexi's summary**: Bella is unhappily married, and then she gets a surprise phone call from an old flame, Edward. Life and circumstances tore them apart, but can they reconnect - repair what was once shattered, their hearts?)

**www dot fanfiction dot net/s/8023233/1/Scars-and-Souvenirs**

****** At Last by Itlnbrt**

Edward and Bella find each other while married to others. Go on their journey while they try and find a way to be together and make it work. They have a lot to learn along the way to finally be together, at last.

**www dot fanfiction dot net/s/8533785/1/At-Last**


	22. Lies

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**Ahhh, how many _more_ of you will flounce after this chapter? LOL. **

**Thank you all for reading, regardless of if you decide to stick it out or bounce. A few of these chapters are already written. And at the end of the day, I write for me, and I dig it so there we go . . . **

**Thanks for giving it a try, although . . . if you stop reading before chapter 26...? The story picks up again as we wrap this semi-Sonny arc. Maggie and Sonny are but a small fraction of this story as a whole. Whatever. Also, I'm going back to posting once weekly because I've taken a break from writing. Therefore, if I continue to update and update, I'll run out of chapters to post, and then I won't know when I'll be updating. **

**Please enjoy! **

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Lies**

**Damion POV**

_**O**_nce again, I found myself at Eclipse. I remember a time when I'd trip over myself to get here—have a drink and watch the ladies—but now…? The tits are tired, the music sucks, and the same assholes are always here.

Since Sonny is one of Dad's main guys, we're waiting for him. He's a half-hour late, and although I haven't spoken to him in a month, my father's had me call him three times. It was stupid, and I told Dad that Sonny wouldn't answer my calls.

It baffles me that we're waiting on Sonny. He's my brother, but what was to be discussed doesn't concern him at all. There wouldn't be a sit-down if I wasn't now involved—moving my way up. It's something about my rank—_since I don't rank but am involved_—and the fact that I plan to ask Luke Drasso's daughter to marry me. Apparently, no matter who my father is, Luke can deny me based on my status alone.

Amelia is twenty-one years old. Why do I need to ask her father permission? It makes no fucking sense. It's old school. Dad says it's business, and I needed to stop drinking . . . I should have stopped three beers ago.

This place is like a casino—sucks you in and fucks with your head. It could be noon, and Eclipse is dark—like it's nighttime. You fool yourself into believing it is . . . only to get fucked when you walk out into the light of day.

I won't lie. It's nice to be sitting at the adults' table instead of toward the back with a bunch of Neanderthals.

I fucking hate them all.

They're two-bit thugs, criminals, and they have no finesse with a fucking thing. Amongst them, there are no discussions either. It's like I'm chillin' with a bunch of Joes—if you can imagine.

Conversations carried on as they had before. My father, Aro, Carlisle, and Luke all shot the shit—spoke about their families, their health, and blah, blah. Nevertheless, only I knew how pissed Dad was that Sonny was late.

When my brother finally came strolling in—wearing a smile, his hair sort of fucked up along with his clothes—it didn't take a genius to figure out why he was late.

He fucked her.

He's been fucking her.

He'll probably destroy her—get her pregnant so he can always have access to her, do some shady shit.

He put his cock in Maggie, broke her cherry . . . Something I'd wanted to do very badly. Fuck. Truthfully, I just wanted to be her first kiss. I didn't know what it was about her. Or, what it was about myself—how I could be head over heels in love with Amelia—completely devoted—and yet I had this overwhelming desire for Maggie.

It's kind of like my love for medicine and my ability to kill a motherfucker without thinking twice.

If I couldn't make heads or tails of that, I definitely can't figure out what my deal was with Maggie—why I wanted her. And I didn't even know I wanted her in that way until I saw her on Halloween. I didn't know what the draw to her was before that, and then I just knew . . .

And the more I think about Maggie, the more detached I get with Amelia, the more hate I have for Sonny.

I either wanted Maggie to be left alone—neither one of us could have her, or by some twist of fate, she was with me.

He fucked her.

He claimed her.

And that shit makes me sick to my stomach.

Thinking logically, Amelia is a better fit for Sonny anyway. She truly is, and Maggie . . . She'd do anything I said. She'd be mine. We clicked—had a sparkle, a flame I tried to ignore.

I _love_ Amelia.

I want to _fuck_ Maggie.

And the more I think about fucking Maggie, the more I'm not sure if I love Amelia.

No, I tried to stay away and succeeded.

The night Maggie ran out of the yard . . . I met Amelia. I put my all—everything I had—into my relationship. Then, when Kylie started hanging out with Maggie, I stopped coming by the house—to keep myself off Temptation's Way.

Now she's staying there, so I definitely don't go over there.

Halloween night, I didn't want any trouble. Amelia was pissed, acting out because Maggie was looking at me. Truth be told, I loved the attention. But Amelia had to calm her tits. I thought Sonny could keep her occupied. It'd be a joke—giant, nearly thirty Sonny could spend time with Maggie, petite, pretty, young thing with the gorgeous smile and big innocent eyes.

But, by the time we'd entered the limos, he was looking at her differently. She had his attention, and I hadn't seen my brother smile like that in ages. It freaked me out.

He was_ supposed_ to work shit out with Katie.

He was _supposed_ to flirt a little, and then _never_ see her again.

He didn't do any of that.

But what did I hope to happen? No, as much as it makes me a dog—as much as it makes me a piece-of-shit—I wanted them both: Amelia and Maggie.

Of course, I hate myself for it. Other than Maggie, I don't look or even see anyone else but Amelia.

But Maggie is Maggie, and the fact that Sonny fucked her . . . it takes away some of her appeal, not all of it, though.

And when I finally had her attention again . . . When we were able to talk while Sonny was speaking to Aro, she wasn't looking at me the way she had been.

She actually wished me the best with Amelia—said she was happy for me, that I found love and was so in love.

And I didn't get the chance to say much else.

"Glad you could join us," Dad said.

"Sorry." Sonny snapped his fingers for a waitress, his eyes barely registering my presence. "Maggie had a doctor's appointment…" Was his lame excuse. Him saying her name made my stomach roll with nausea.

"Oh…I thought you didn't go to those. Well, at least when it concerns your kid," Aro said. "Cramps your style or somethin'."

"Enough." Dad was fast to squash that shit. "Is she okay?" I was glad—elated, over the moon, that Dad asked him. Curiosity would have eaten me alive.

"She's fine." Sonny nodded, smiling and pushing his hair back. "Luke…nice to see you." He reached over to shake his hand.

"It's nice to see you, too." Luke smiled. "Now…can someone finally tell me why I'm here?" He widened his arms. "I know there's no beef..." His gaze briefly flashed to mine. He likely already knew.

"Well…" Dad patted his back. He told me he'd be speaking for me because that's the way shit goes, what's proper. After we get married, she'd be a part of our family, and Dad's the head of the family . . . I'd be a part of Luke's family, too, and they better give me that money because Amelia's high-maintenance. "Damion—my son—would like to ask for Amelia's hand."

"Oh, fuck. I'm getting old," Luke laughed, holding his head, and everyone else at the table chuckled along with him. "Yes…he—you have my blessing." It was refreshing that he turned to shake my hand, spoke to me, instead of about me.

"Thank you," I said.

Luke was all smiles. "Gentlemen, please excuse me, but I'd like to call my wife—if that's cool. We can get down to business when I get back."

Dad gestured it was cool, and Luke left the table.

"You're really sure?" My father asked me for the millionth time. He'd asked me a bunch of times earlier.

"Yes." I nodded. "She's the one." But I wasn't dead-on-balls-certain.

"Okay." He held my shoulder and then shook me. "My baby's getting married!" He grabbed my face and landed a huge, loud wet one on my cheek.

It made me laugh. He hasn't done that since I was a little kid.

"I'm glad it's out in the open. Now, all you have to do is ask her, so Mom can go nuts," Dad whispered in my ear. "You should do it on Thanksgiving—"

"In front of everyone?" I asked.

"Why not?" He shrugged, leaning away. "Sonny's having a baby, and my Damion's getting married…Jesus. I am getting old."

"When do _you_ plan to pop the question?" Carlisle faced Sonny.

His eyes widened and he paused, stopped sipping from his scotch. "I, uh—"

"Oh…he probably doesn't know which one you're referring to," Aro said. "I'll clarify . . . my daughter doesn't want this mamaluke."

"You got somethin' you wanna talk to me about?" Sonny asked. "You got somethin' you wanna say?"

Aro shook his head, staring down to his drink.

"It didn't work out. I make no apologies for how shit _did_ work out. I tried my best." Sonny let out a growl.

"Yo…lemme talk to you a minute." Dad grabbed Aro's shoulder, and then they both walked away from the table.

Carlisle watched them go with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously . . . I heard things are going well with Maggie. Alex is thinking about hiring her as a baby-sitter. Maggie and Kylie can—"

"Don't. I don't want her working."

I turned to stare at that motherfucker.

"She's moving in with me . . . tomorrow, and things are fantastic." Sonny chuckled. "Unc, I swear to Christ…shit is just…it's amazing."

"I'm happy for you," Carlisle said.

_And the both of them . . ._

"Now if you and Dame made up, things would be perfect all around." Carlisle twirled a finger.

I didn't say shit.

Neither did Sonny.

I think he knows . . . how I feel, the protectiveness, along with the desires I have.

"I want her to focus on school." Sonny went back to the previous subject. "I don't want her to feel that since she's living with me, she has to pay bills or some shit. She doesn't have to do anything—"

"Because she's your plaything." I couldn't keep that bottled in. "She'll move in…go to school, but otherwise she'll just sit around waiting to get fucked. And when the baby's born, you'll have a live-in baby-sitter. And you, you can just carry on, do what the fuck you want." I was surprised he let me finish.

"Don't pay him any attention," he told our uncle. "He's just upset that the chick he _handpicked_ to be his goomah might be _my_ wife."

I bit my tongue.

What could I say? He was right on the fucking money.

I hated him even more.

"Fuck." Carlisle sipped his drink. "I've been there before." He toasted to me. "Best you get that shit out of your head as fast as possible."

"Damion, you better listen to our uncle." Sonny placed his hand on Carlisle's shoulder. "She may not be my wife at the present moment, but she will be. You will respect her as if she is, and keep your fucking hands, eyes, and cock away from her. Ha!" He laughed, but I could see he was truly pissed. "I don't even want you talkin' to her. At family gatherings, be cordial, say hello, but fuck—I'd tear you limb from motherfuckin' limb." He meant that shit, too.

"Dame," Carlisle leaned across the table to keep his voice hushed, "having a mistress is a nasty business. If you're not 100% sure about Amelia—"

"I am," I said. "It's not a role I _plan_ to have filled . . . it was a role Maggie _could_ have filled . . . But not really. I just—I really, really wanted to fuck her—give it to her good one time." I punched the air.

Sonny slammed his fist down onto the table. "Keep her name out your fuckin' mouth, too, you piece-of-shit!"

I was going to reply, but Luke came back to the table.

"Dude, Aro and Edward are in the office." Carlisle pointed. "You guys can speak and split spoils in there." There was also business to be handled tonight—shit that didn't concern my uncle, Sonny, or me—well, maybe Sonny, but he made no move to leave the table.

"Good shit." Luke grabbed his drink. "My son-in-law." He shook me before he left again.

I laughed, guzzling back my beer, but I didn't speak until Luke disappeared.

"Don't say anything." Sonny pointed at me. "Don't fucking test me, Damion. I love her, but if you _don't_ love Amelia . . . fucking let her go, man . . . In all seriousness, bro. You have no business getting married."

"He's right." Carlisle pointed to him.

"I do love her." I smiled. "I love her very much—so much it fucks with my head. But…in all honesty…sometimes, I wanna fuck Maggie so much—that shit fucks with my head, too." I shrugged. "You wanted to be honest…"

Chillin' with Dad, I was growing accustomed to telling the truth. Sometimes, the truth is more shocking than any lie. And why fucking lie? I didn't fear Sonny, or anyone else.

Sonny finished his drink, his hand shaking. He was trying not to fly across the table at me, and I loved it—that I got that much of a reaction out of him, with the truth no less. "I'll be in the office." He slammed his glass down so hard, I was surprised it didn't break. "All you need to know…" He stared at me. "Touch her and you're dead. That's it. Just keep that shit in your mind. Every time you see her, I want you to think of this, and only this: if you touch her you're dead." He left the table.

"What's so special about this li'l broad?" Carlisle asked. "I've seen her...She's cute...all right, attractive, I guess."

"Well, she _was_ a virgin…"

"Oh…I can see the appeal there." He nodded.

I pursed my lips, lifting my head and leaning back. "You can go join them. I'm used to sitting around. I have my books behind the bar." That's the only good thing. I can actually get some studying done.

"It's cool. You've spurred my curiosity." He chuckled. "The fact that you want this chick…it doesn't make you a bad person. If you make a play for your brother's girl—yeah, that shit's fucked up. You're not going to, right?"

I raised a brow. "It didn't stop me from making a play for yours." My words were slow, and I didn't know why I said them. But with being honest . . . It just flew out. I blurted that shit, and I did wish I could take it back, internally wincing.

_There's no rewind button for life and all that . . . _

"Excuse me?" Carlisle tilted his head, previous amusement gone.

"There was a short period of time when I thought I was in love with Alex." I watched him—watched the vein in his forehead throb away, and I bet his blood pressure hit the roof. His face remained kind of stoic, though, which was odd. "Nothing physical happened." I was quick to add. "Just thought you should know."

Carlisle smiled, he was just fucking smiling. "You're just fucking with me? I mean, you have to be."

"If…okay." I nodded. "Yeah, I was fucking with you."

"Come on, Dame…you gotta death wish or somethin'?" He shook his head. "You can't fuck with people like that."

"No." I grinned. "I _am_ Death. That's the common misconception around here. Everyone handing out death threats . . . idle threats." I shrugged, my mind spiraling, misfiring, whirring about hundred different things.

"What?" he asked.

I finished my beer. "I'm tired of being my father's asshole. I'll see you around." Without another word to him or anyone else, I grabbed my books and then left Eclipse.

Amelia sent me a text when I had a foot out the door. She was in the city, knew her father was here, and she wanted to know if I'd join them for a late dinner.

I declined, telling her I needed to see my mother. It had been a while.

Regardless, Amelia didn't like that. She wanted to see me. It had been days. So, I told her to blow off her father and head to the dorms. Ethan had some shit to do—he wouldn't be there—but I would be there later. Amelia has a copy of the key. Someone just has to let her into the building, and there are usually people chillin' on the steps. She demanded a key, and I didn't care. I don't know if she always came to Manhattan this often, but she does now—to shop, have dinner, to see me—seek me out and stalk me.

It's cute.

She'll wait for me.

If she couldn't accept the answer I had given her, she could accept the second one—waiting for me, because I didn't know what else to tell her.

She said she bought me new sheets and a comforter and was excited to straighten up and redecorate my side of the room.

It made me grin, and I loved that idea—that she wanted to take care of me. But I was sure that by the end of this semester, I'd buy us a house.

It's disappointing, though. One of the things I love most about her is her mind. She's intelligent and educated, and I was more than certain that she'd make an excellent physician. She had the same drive I did when it came to studying, school in general.

But with getting closer . . .

It's been just over two months. I know getting engaged was moving a bit fast, yet she mentioned it too.

Once we get married, she wants to drop out of school. She wants babies and for us to be this…domesticated thing.

When she brought that shit up, I squashed it—wondering if this was her decision, or something her parents put in her head. She said that, no, it was her choice—she wants to have my babies.

I don't even know if I_ like_ kids, let alone fucking having one.

I'm twenty-four years old.

Although I love her and want to marry her—definitely before I start my residency—I'm not ready to make those other heavy decisions yet.

Once again, I told Amelia to calm her tits. I'm not totally against the kid thing, but she needs to understand a few things that . . . she clearly cannot comprehend or chooses not to at the present time.

We're getting, possibly, six million dollars, plus any monies from other family members. Dad said he'd throw in a house, too, which is all wonderful.

But I have a year and half of med school left. Then, after that, I'll be doing my residency for however many years, depending on what specialty I'll choose. They pay residents, but it's chump change. My salary won't keep Amelia in shoes, let alone be enough for us to live on.

We'll have to save. We'll have to live…basically, the same way we have been, only . . . Amelia will have to say goodbye to Daddy's credit cards, his money. She'll end up ruining, or not, depending on some shit, my credit score.

Maybe Sonny and Dad have an unlimited cash flow, they can fool around and do whatever, but I don't.

I'm not greedy, stingy, or cheap, but we can't just blow all the money they're giving us on bullshit items—to live in the lap of luxury.

But it's hard…not giving Amelia what she wants when she wants it. She gives me the eyes, massages my shoulders, and blows me.

While in the subway, catching the R train to Bay Ridge, I got to thinking more about Amelia—not my dislikes—and then I regretted hopping on the train…

She makes everything go away. I don't think about anything when we're together except us—how much I love her, how much I miss her when she's not around, wanting to utilize every moment we have together.

Maggie? She doesn't exist while Amelia is around. It's when she's gone that my mind travels elsewhere.

And . . . we're apart more than when we're together.

By the time I got to Bay Ridge—it was truly perfect timing—my mother, sister, and Maggie were entering the house, just home from the salon.

Kylie teased me, Maggie ignored me, and my mother embraced me.

Mom was fast to heat me up some leftovers from the night before. We made small talk. Dad had already sent her a text, telling her about the sit-down, and we planned to go get Amelia a ring this weekend. She said my father's jewelry guy—the one I got Julie's ring from—might exchange it, and then I'd only have to pay the difference.

Julie's ring was huge, but I was marrying a mafia princess. Her ring had to be bigger. I didn't give a fuck. I still had loads of cash in the bank from my only and actual contract—the one time I got paid beaucoup dollars to take someone out. The rest were just fuckers Sonny or Dad needed bumped off.

"This was great—thanks." I wiped my mouth with a napkin. Mom made pork chops yesterday, and they were just as delicious today.

"You're welcome." She smiled sadly.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You confuse me," she whispered.

"I confuse me, too." It was the truth.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, letting out a large breath. "My day wasn't that long, but I'm tired."

"Go relax."

"I'm glad you're here. I haven't seen you in a while…but I don't see a laundry bag either, and it's the middle of the week… Why'd you come home?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Like you said, I haven't seen you in a while. I thought we'd hang out."

She nodded. "I'll go get changed. I have a phone call to make—gotta call Elena." She was genuinely smiling again. "Then we'll watch a movie? I'd like to talk to you." Mom squeezed my hand. "We need to…I don't know."

"We can do whatever you want—you can pick my brain about all things Amelia," I laughed. "I have pre-rounds tomorrow, so…I can't stay that late." It was going on ten now, and Amelia was already at the dorm. She'd texted me while I was eating. "I should leave by midnight—I can catch a few hours of sleep."

"It's cool. No movie then. We'll only have that chat." Mom patted my hand and then left the table.

From the kitchen, I was able to hear the giggles coming from my sister's room. Cautious and quiet, I snuck down the hall to eavesdrop—'cause I'm a fuck like that. Her door was slightly ajar. It always is when Dad's not home. I made sure to keep my back to the hall wall.

"You guys did it on the table?" Kylie asked. "Now that's what I call a _happy_ meal." She snorted, and I rolled my eyes. The table? Nice.

"Well, we didn't have time…to do anything else." Maggie's voice made me jump internally for some reason.

"Did his dick feel bigger? Like, because you were sitting?"

"I was laying and…he's pretty damn big, I think. I don't really know sizes."

"Eh…you've seen one, you've seen them all . . . or is that tits?" Kylie was very wrong on both accounts. "Have you guys done anal yet? That's something I'd like to explore."

"No way!" Maggie shouted. "I mean, I've never thought about it."

"You never think about a lot of things," Kylie giggled. "But _you know_ . . . Miss Maggie Pants."

"No, really. The butt thing? I don't know. If he wanted to…I want him to be happy and stuff," she laughed.

"You make Sonny happy by just breathing. He's head over heels for you." Kylie's voice was getting louder, but she never opened or closed the door. "Isn't he the best guy ever, though?"

I couldn't believe that Kylie held Sonny with such high regard. He's just Sonny—always angry, always tough as nails, always shooting off at the mouth, he's mostly always a prick, and he always gets what he wants without even trying hard.

"I think so. Gosh…Kylie, I love him." Maggie squealed. "He's got the best heart. He cares—like actually tries to take care of me, worries if I haven't eaten—he's just considerate and crazy kind, always wondering if I need anything, and all I need is him," she sighed, and I wondered what act my brother was putting on. "We went to confession the other day—"

"You got Sonny to go to church?" Kylie guffawed. "That's what I call pussy whipped."

"He wanted to come with me. I was just—I was feeling guilty about some things—things that have been ingrained in my head since I was little. I won't bore you with my sins this time, although I'm sure you can guess. He wouldn't confess—says God might not hear him. He just—he doesn't see himself, he doesn't give himself enough credit, that he's wonderful and sweet—a good, a _good_ person." She sounded like she was crying.

"No need for that."

"They're happy tears," Maggie said. "I feel incredibly lucky…to have found my soul mate so young in life." Yeah, she was definitely crying.

"Don't cry…" Now Kylie sounded emotional. "Tell me something happy—more about the table," she laughed.

"He's, like, the hottest guy I've ever seen—like ever. His muscles, his face, his—"

"I can talk about your Sonny Sex, but—" Kylie gagged "—don't talk about his peen…in great detail. To me, Sonny and Damion are like Ken dolls. They don't have penises, but you wanted both their peens."

"No, I had a crush." Her tone was hushed, but I still heard her. "I was _feeling_ with my eyes, and now I _see_ with my heart. I don't know. It probably sounds dumb to you, but it makes sense to me. Santino and Damion are two completely different people—I don't know Damion, though. I can guess."

She was absolutely correct. Sonny and I aren't similar at all. But how can Sonny be the best-looking guy she's ever seen, if she was hung up on me first and not my brother? Maggie told me I was the prettiest guy she'd ever seen. I remember that.

"Do you feel weird that Damion is here?"

"A little…He just, he looks at me weird."

"Damion _is_ weird."

"I thought I liked him, but . . . now he's scary? I can't explain it."

Maggie really thinks I'm scary? I never gave her a reason to be scared, but now she can "see" with her heart, whatever the fuck that means. _She's_ the weirdo—an irresistible one at that, but yeah.

"He's just a goober. Are you texting Sonny?"

"Yeah…even his texts are dirty." Maggie let out a squeal. "The language that comes from his mouth sometimes…"

"Ohhh. Lemme see." Kylie sounded excited, and then she gasped. "I'm gonna make you scream my name? That's not very original or dirty. Lemme send him one."

"No, don't—"

"Yes, let's drive him crazy. How about . . . I want you to handcuff me to the bed, so you can fuck me over and over and over. Leave me food and water, and I'll be your sex slave. Just don't feed me after midnight." She said it slow, as if she was typing, and then cackled.

"I'm not a Gremlin!" Maggie shouted.

"My mom's good at writing dirty messages. You should see the ones she writes to my dad. They border on gross." A phone dinged. "What'd he say?"

"He said, 'I've already done that. Tomorrow night, we're celebrating, and I'll be in the cuffs'," Maggie laughed. "He's gonna let me handcuff him? What will I do?"

That lucky bastard. I don't think I'd ever let anyone cuff me to anything. Fuck that shit. I can get down with the reversal of that role, though. Then I briefly wondered if Amelia would let me tie her up. That might be hot . . . dole out some pain while pleasuring her.

"Pork him. Ride him like a fucking pony, girl."

"I'm not, um, I'm not that good at being on top," Maggie said, and Christ…I could fucking teach her. "He's like an animal, too—he always has to be on top. But when I ask, he lets me—says I might come, um, orgasm faster being on top—that I have to find my own groove," she mumbled.

"Do what you can and then crawl to the top of the bed, grab his hair, and smash your pussy into his face." Kylie gasped. "Type that shit in and send it."

"Oh, good idea!" Maggie.

"Fuck. I cannot—_cannot_ wait to have Gio Sex."

"He'll be here soon, right?" Maggie asked. "You guys were always the couple to beat at school. I remember that."

"Two-motherfucking-days!" Now they were both squealing and laughing, and they continued for a long while. "You'll be my sister-in-law one day. I just know it. It'll be weird when the baby comes…for you, but I think it'll all work out. Oh, did you ever find out who Layla was? 'Cause I asked my dad. He says she's_ just_ a manager, so…she had a reason to call Sonny."

"I know. He told me. It's just us…Santino and me." More squealing, more giggling. "And who doesn't love babies? As long as Katie . . . like, likes me? We should be fine."

"She's really nice. But she's one of those girls that…if she's your friend, she's really nice. If she doesn't like you…" Kylie whistled. "You know?"

Kylie continued. "She has a mean streak, and I suggest that you're never around her alone...for the time being. I mean, she could start trouble." My sister was on the money with that shit. It was sound advice. "But yeah…Sonny is loyal. He's not…I don't know. He's been with _a lot_ of women, but I know my brother. He's serious with you."

"Thank God…I'd like…I don't know," Maggie said. "I'm not that concerned with his past, which confused me with my parents. They always taught me to never believe what you hear, always have a new outlook. Stuff like that. They taught me not to judge people. Only God can judge you, but they judge Santino..."

I knocked on Kylie's door, and she was very fast to open it. "What's up?"

"Nothing." I let myself in. "I'm bored."

"Oh…well, let me entertain you." Kylie rolled her eyes. "I'm kidding. Go watch TV."

"I was just at Eclipse." I yawned. "I was tired…left." I shrugged.

"How was it?" Kylie asked.

"Fine…I had a beer, or five," I laughed, taking a seat at Kylie's desk. Maggie was sitting on the bed with her head down. "I don't bite," I told her. "Hello . . . you could say it back."

"Hi," she whispered.

"How are you?" I kept the convo going.

"Good." She was short with me, and I didn't remember her being that way.

"Great…I'm fine…thanks for _not_ asking." I chuckled.

"Don't be a dick, Dame."

"What did I say?" I asked Kylie.

"Nothing." She shook her head, and I broke up their giggle-fest, both of them were nowhere near as jovial as they had been. "Did you get a lap dance? Are lap dances allowed once you're in a relationship?"

I pursed my lips. "I'm not sure. They're innocent enough in nature . . . At Eclipse, the customer isn't allowed to touch. Well, they're not supposed to touch."

"Lap dance?" Maggie asked.

"It's when a stripper grinds her stuff, like…dances," Kylie explained.

Maggie furrowed her brow.

"You really don't know what a lap dance is?" My sister was laughing. "_Sonny's_ girl doesn't know what a lap dance is." She faced me.

I didn't smile, knowing my brother probably lied, saying Eclipse was a bar or something.

"You know Eclipse is a strip club, right?" she asked Maggie. "Are they full nude or do they wear lingerie?" Kylie turned back to me.

"Both…I think it's at the dancer's discretion." I smiled. "Yeah…the new manager, Layla. She used to be a stripper, which is a huge promotion...She hardly knows anything. Dad was bitching earlier—Sonny thinking with his cock again."

Kylie hit me. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"What? It was a stupid decision—like he thought with his dick." I chuckled.

She folded her arms over her chest. "Don't listen to him."

"I didn't say anything." I looked between Kylie and Maggie. "What did you think I said?" Maggie's eyes were watery. "I didn't mean it the way you thought. I mean, he _could_ be fucking her. I don't know—"

"Get out!" Kylie shouted. "Get out of my room." She looked to Maggie. "It's not true. He doesn't know anything."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was a secret." My eyes widened.

"Now what the hell are you talking about?" Kylie looked confused. "What's a secret?"

I shrugged, shaking my head. "If they're not exclusive, Sonny can do what he wants. From what I heard, what they had was a strictly physical thing."

"Who?" Kylie asked.

I tilted my head to Maggie, feigning nonchalance; meanwhile, I knew she could see me.

"Um." Maggie scooted from the bed. "I'm gonna see if the washer's free. I have laundry." She left the room.

Kylie hit me again. "You're so fucking mean! And Sonny wouldn't do that. Why do you have to mess with people all the time?"

"I don't know," I said.

"You do know." Kylie narrowed her eyes. "You're a hatin' motherfucker—that's what you are, Damion. You're a hater. I'm telling Sonny because he has to do some damage control."

"Huh," I mused as she started texting.

"You're with Amelia. Why do you care?" She'd brought her voice down. "I feel really bad. It was all a joke, and I created a monster. I didn't expect Sonny and Maggie to fall in love. . . But Sonny's been miserable for a long time—having all that meaningless sex. He finally found someone to mean something to him. Why can't you be happy for him?" Kylie's heartfelt speech did nothing for me. My thoughts were still my thoughts.

"I am happy for him. You took my words out of context. I don't know what's going on between them. I haven't spoken to Sonny since Halloween."

"Yeah, right. The rumor mill in this family . . . Get the hell out of my room." She pushed me into the hall.

Maggie left the guest room with an arm full of clothes, and I quietly followed her down to the garage—wondering if she knew. She gave me no indication that she knew I was behind her.

Once she dropped her clothes into the machine, I entered.

"Oh!" She jumped, covering her face.

"Did I scare you?" I asked, digging into my pocket for a cigarette.

"Um, yeah." Her hand shook as she reached for the detergent.

"Hey…" I showed her my palms. "I'm just here to do this." I pointed to my mouth, my cigarette hanging.

She nodded, setting dials and staring into the washer.

"I can't believe I scared you—that you're frightened by me," I laughed. "With who _you're_ fucking…sleeping with?" I shook my head, but whispered "hardened criminal" under my breath. And I wasn't lying—not one bit.

"I'm a kitten in comparison," I added. She'd paused, as I continued to smoke. "I'm sure you've seen it. That gun isn't just for decoration. I bet your parents…I mean, _if my kid_ came home with Sonny…" I winced.

When she didn't say anything, I mused, "You're a good Catholic; what are the Ten Commandments again?"

She narrowed her eyes for the briefest of seconds. "There's a movie you can rent." Maggie went to walk around me.

I stopped her.

"Please," she whispered; when she went right, I went left and vice versa.

"Relax," I told her.

"Exodus Twenty. It can also be found in Deuteronomy Five."

"What?" I asked.

"Pay close attention to the last commandment." She raised a brow, giving me attitude. She was saucy, had an edge, and I liked it.

"Ten," I hummed. "Thou shalt not covet your neighbor's wife…ha!" I chuckled. "You're not his wife."

"You shall not covet your neighbor's house; you shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or his male servant, or his female servant, or his ox, or his donkey," she laughed, "or _anything_ that is your neighbor's."

"That's funny…since I firmly believe you've coveted me." I stared into her eyes, and she looked away to the ground. "Don't be upset." I turned her chin back to me. "If he felt the need to sleep around while he was with you? He's a fool," I said. "Did you want one?" I held my cigarette pack out to her.

"No," she whispered. "Thanks."

I hummed, blowing my smoke out, but it was freezing in here. "Nice sweat suit."

"Thanks." She hugged herself, going for the door again.

I sidestepped her. "Wait . . . just chill with me."

"Just leave me alone."

"What did I do?" I asked.

"It's not what you did . . . it's…I don't know. I just think I should stay away from you."

"Self-preservation kicked in, huh?" I laughed.

"I don't know what you mean by that." She shook her head. "But…I love Santino. I want to _be_ with Santino—only him, and he doesn't want me talking to you. I have to respect his decision."

"What?" My eyes widened. "Maggie, if you want to talk to me—talk to me. I'm right here." I reached for her hand; she pulled it away. "Don't let him dictate shit to you . . . I'll give you my number. We can meet, chill out, talk…" I touched her cheek.

She jerked away from me. "I had your phone number, and I made sure to forget it."

"What?" I asked.

Maggie actually stepped closer to me, staring straight up into my eyes. "If _my_ talking to you would upset him, then_ I_ don't _want_ to talk to you. Do you understand?"

"Ouch," I said.

"I'm sorry," she said before she turned to leave, and I let her go.

Regardless, I put out my cigarette and followed her upstairs. We didn't talk any more, and I was fine with that. But did she really not want to talk to me? Or was it because of Sonny? What Sonny said? How did she have my phone number? When did she call? Not knowing the answer to any of that fucking bothered me.

"You should leave," Kylie said, approaching me in the hall.

"Why?" I asked.

"Sonny's on his way here."

I groaned. "He's so dramatic."

"Actually . . . he's not. You and me, we're dramatic. Sonny, no." She patted my back, and then gasped. "Now you have to ask yourself: Am I a punk if I leave or stupid if I stay?" She giggled. "I'd leave . . . just saying."

I nodded. "Tell Mom I'll call her."

Leaving would fuck with Sonny's head even more.

And Amelia was waiting for me…

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

**Edward**

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

In all seriousness, I thought taking the sit-down into my office would squash all the awkwardness that was at the table, but a change of location didn't help. My talk with Aro didn't last long. I told him to chill the fuck out and stay away from Sonny. If they can't get along, then they shouldn't work together anymore—to keep their distance.

When Luke came in, it was cool. We got right down to business. His offer was sound—he was going to match me with the dough I was giving to Dame, so he and Amelia could start their life together.

We didn't get to divide and speak about anything else, except for Staten Island—where dudes from both New York and New Jersey—Cullen and Drasso families reside. There's always beef, but we wanted to settle it. This union would help with that, too.

When Sonny came in growling, going for the bottle of Jack in the desk, I knew some shit had popped off outside, but I didn't want to alert Luke. I let it go. Sonny was actually fast to get down to business, too—if only he could stay off his damn cell.

He'd be talking to us, but texting at the same time.

First he shows up late, and then his phone was more important. Did I not teach this kid any fucking manners? Again, Luke didn't seem to care. They must do shit differently over in Jersey, or maybe those things just bother me. I didn't know.

The look on my brother's face when he entered my office . . .

He said Damion bounced, and he didn't look happy about it at all. Then when Luke left, shit kind of hit the fan. Everyone was very quiet at first, no one speaking to each other. Shit got even worse.

"Luke didn't say anything about the Albanians?" Sonny asked, eyes down and on his cell.

"You're fucking rude," I said.

"What?" His thumbs were still typing away. "Seriously, you should let Dame run with a crew over in Jersey…they're more chill—sit around and drink coffee, most of the guys are like fifty…"

"Don't worry about your brother," I said.

"Yeah, but—" he laughed, reading a message now, "if he chilled with them for a week or two, he'll come back here and be appreciative. I'm just saying."

I grinned. "You just want your brother out of New York…I get it."

Sonny didn't reply. He wore a smile and leaned back to adjust his cock.

"Who are you talking to?" With Carlisle and Aro being so quiet, I just kept talking, hoping to cut the tension in the air somehow.

"Maggie . . . look at what she wrote." He went to show me.

I put my hand up to stop him. "I believe you."

"Damion left," Carlisle said again, and he stared, unseeing, at the floor.

"Thanks for telling me." I didn't know how to feel about that yet. He's here every free moment he has, which isn't much. I'm not being a prick. School still comes first.

"Yo…he told me some shit—" Carlisle started.

"Fuck!" Sonny shot up out of his chair, kicking it back.

"What?" I asked.

"That motherfucker!" My son was going bananas.

"Catch him." I pointed to Aro, who was all too happy to grab Sonny and make him sit down.

"Get the fuck off me. I gotta go!"

"Shut up!" I shouted. "What happened? What could have possibly happened now?"

Sonny's leg bounced as he sent another text. "Kylie just said . . . I'm going to kill him." He was nonchalant in that pissed way.

"Who?" I asked.

"Damion . . . he went to the crib—"

"Yours?" I pointed.

"No, yours . . . fucking . . . He's filling Maggie's head with a bunch of bullshit."

I didn't know how to reply. It's true; I've been speaking about Maggie every so often to gauge Dame's interest. He's into her, too, or some shit, which now makes me question his proposal to Amelia. Actually, I wanted Carlisle to talk to him because I don't understand that mindset—loving someone and wanting to fuck someone else. Carlisle says it's possible—to be in love and want someone else. It's all about temptation, impulse control, and a bunch of other shit.

My brother's been on his best behavior for years. He finally stopped running around—fucking everything—when he married Alex. Then again, before that, all this fucked-up shit happened. Maybe he finally realized that his cock was causing all this trouble.

But Damion hasn't done anything. He's not even interested in following Misty around the club anymore—hoping she'd give him a bone. He's not drooling or staring stupid at the dancers anymore, either.

I thought he was in love.

Maybe he is, but he's thinking about Maggie, too.

And here I'd been worried that Sonny would step out of line and go for Amelia.

_These fucking kids, man! _

"I gotta go." He put his hands up in surrender. "I'm fine. Just let me—"

I groaned, heaving myself out of the chair. "Let's go." Of course, I was going to make sure Sonny didn't actually kill him.

Aro was staying. Carlisle was leaving, too, while Sonny and I hopped into his whip. He was fast to pull away from the curb—still cursing under his breath, his phone forgotten.

"Talk to me," I said. "Did you want me to drive?"

He shook his head, stopping short at the light. "I just don't understand. Amelia is wonderful. Why does Dame have to pursue my girl? Why does—I just don't get him anymore." Sonny scowled out the windshield, and then he laughed. "He wanted Maggie to be his goomah."

"His what?" I acted like I heard him wrong, having grown to hate that word.

"That was his plan all along—wait until she's eighteen and then go for it. As far as he knew, she was leaving for college. It makes sense." He pointed to his temple. "He calls her my plaything, but that's truly all she'd be to him." Sonny groaned loudly. "I'll kill him—"

"Relax." I patted his back. "I can't believe you're letting a girl come between youse." My words were bullshit, and he knew it. "Blood is thicker than . . . cooz. That's all I'm saying."

"Blood makes you related. Loyalty makes you family, and Damion's fucked-up." He pushed his hair back, veering onto the highway.

"And here I thought you'd go for his girl—you'd go for Amelia."

"Never," he said. "That's his chick. I know she's off-limits. Maybe I was jealous for a minute—going through that bullshit with Katie, but I never would have fucked with his shit, or hit on Amelia."

When I didn't comment, he continued. "That's not to say she wouldn't fuck me. I know she would. I wouldn't even have to try hard," he laughed. "Before she even met Damion, she was all giving me the eyes and flirting. It was before I got back with Katie—I wasn't interested then. That should tell you how I roll—how I wouldn't touch what's his. He, on the other hand ..."

Sonny stomped on the gas, going faster. "I know you think Damion is just like you, so you cut him some slack. But in some—most ways, he's nothing like you. He doesn't carry any honor or respect. When I say he doesn't give a fuck about anything, I mean it. Fuck other people and how they'd feel. He wants something . . ."

"I'm starting to see that," I agreed with him. "I still haven't been able to, to reach him."

"And maybe you never will. Maybe he's just soulless, heartless—that motherfucker!"

"Calm down." I reached over to rub his back some more, like when he was a baby. "I went through the same shit with Mom—sort of. I don't know." I looked out the window.

"You thought Mom was going to fuck around? 'Cause I don't see that."

"No," I laughed, finding that hysterical. "Your uncle . . . he was interested in Mom, and . . . for years . . . maybe he didn't outright hit on her, but he'd do things. I don't know. He'd overstep his bounds, so to speak."

"And what happened?" he asked.

"I beat his ass on more than one occasion, nearly killed him on another. He just wouldn't relent." Thinking about this shit was getting me heated. "Look, I'll talk to him. Maybe if I spoke to him, threatened him—maybe if I beat his ass, he'll act right."

Sonny got quiet—remained silent, and that's when I knew how pissed off he truly was. My eldest doesn't do that. He's very vocal, and I wished he'd continued as we drove. That shitty tension filled the cab of the car.

When we pulled up to the house, I couldn't even stop him. He sprinted up the walkway and tore through the house.

I trailed after him, fast to take off my coat in case I had to stop this brawl—stop them from destroying my house.

"That punk left," Kylie giggled, passing me.

"You told him we were coming? How'd you—" I started, confused.

"I sent Sonny a text. Dame made Maggie cry, saying Sonny was sleeping around. Then I felt bad, so I gave Damion a heads up. I didn't know for certain Sonny would run back here, but I had a feeling." She pointed to her temple.

I kissed her forehead and hugged her to my side. "Good girl."

"Dame left like a half-hour ago. He didn't take Vito, so I guess he took the subway."

I nodded, peeking around for Bella.

"Thanksgiving is sure to be awkward. Thank God Gio is coming."

I groaned at just the mention of that stupid holiday.

Then Sonny came back out, still looking around, as Maggie trailed after him. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" she asked him, placing a hand on his back.

He relaxed, just slightly. "Get your shit. We're leaving."

"Whoa…" I put a hand up. "She—"

"She's coming to live with me," he said.

"Um, I still have clothes in the dryer—" Maggie pointed downstairs.

"Then just take your stuff for school tomorrow, and we'll come back." He kissed her cheek. "Sound good?"

She nodded, smiling sadly before she turned for the guest room.

When she was out of sight, I placed my hand on Sonny's forearm to grab his attention. "I'm responsible for her. I told her father she'd be staying here."

"Thank you." Sonny nodded, seeming sincere. "I appreciate everything you've done, going to bat for me as far as her father is concerned . . . but I asked her, and she accepted. She's an adult—can do what she wants, and she chose me—to live with me." He sounded defensive.

"Sonny—"

"No." He was still calm. "I'm not being a dick. I'm not doing this to create a problem or anything. I need her with me, so he can't have such easy access. Dame touches her—Dad . . . come on." He massaged his forehead.

I shook my head, not liking the idea but agreeing. She should go live with him, especially if we'd gain some peace within this house. Things could go back to the way they were. Damion can come and go without a care—shit like that. "Fine," I relented, not wanting problems with him either. "What can I do? But tomorrow or the next day, I want you to have a talk with her father."

"I can respect that—do that." He trailed his hand through his hair. "Fuck!" He puffed his cheeks, blowing out a breath. "Why do I have to be made to feel this way?" He turned to Kylie, who was tracing the wall with her finger, trying to pretend she wasn't listening to us. "Tell Maggie—tell her to wait up for me. I'll be back." Sonny went for the door.

Placing my hand on his chest stopped him. "Where are you going?"

"I won't kill him. Fuck. By the time I get there, maybe I won't be as angry." He shrugged. "But I need to talk to him. Sometimes . . . I can reach him, and maybe—maybe if he agrees to back off…" He wiped his hands clean.

"Hey!" Bella finally joined us. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I said. "We'll be back."

Bella came over to give me her cheek; I kissed it while Sonny left the house. "You and me—we have to talk." She fisted my shirt. "And you're _going_ to talk. I wanna know what the fuck's been going on around here."

I nodded, agreeing and stealing one more kiss. She's been saying we have to talk for ages now, and I've been doing my best to avoid her and the conversation. It was going to be one of those heavy talks. She knows something's up with Dame. Frankly, she doesn't know shit, and I was going to have to lay it all out for her.

I _will_ lay it all out for her and not hold anything back.

There are hardly any secrets within my marriage, and I like it that way—work, the kids, how we feel—we always talk it out even if it leads to a huge argument.

This time, though, because of what I've been having Dame do—I was afraid she'd be vexed. Sure, Damion is sort of in this against his will, but I was going to bend him to _my_ will, my rule. He had to learn—the difference between right and wrong, and, most of all, respect. It's obvious that he doesn't know a fucking thing about respect, loyalty, the importance of family. It's surprising. Maybe I wasn't the best father, but I thought I'd raised each of my kids to live by love, loyalty, and respect.

Damion went for Carlisle's wife. It's not going to stop him from going for Sonny's girl. It makes no sense either. He was with what'sherface for how many years? Never cheated, never even stepped out of line, and here we are.

Maybe he thinks he's hot shit—that he's done the things he's done, he's my son, and he was about to marry Luke's daughter. Maybe he wants to embrace certain aspects of the "lifestyle"—thinks he's some big-shot wise guy.

"We'll be back soon." I closed the door after myself.

"You don't have to come." Sonny spoke from over the car before he sat inside.

I was fast to hop in, not sure if he'd take off. "No, it's cool."

"I hate that I even have to do this." He stopped from starting the car to cover his face. "I have to…if he…if…Dad, I'd kill him."

"Want me to drive?" I asked.

He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "I'm good."

"It really bothers me that this chick is coming between youse—just saying."

"What? He can't act right, so I'm supposed to get rid of her, act like nothing's wrong? She will be my wife one day."

"No…I'm not saying for you to sit back and do nothing. I can't believe your brother." I shook my head. "What the fuck is wrong with him?"

"He's got it in his head—he wants to fuck her. Before me, he could keep his distance because he had nothing to worry about. Now, my being with Maggie threatened his plan—she was no longer an option."

"I get it—I understand." I nodded, leaning my head back. "You really think she's the one you'll marry?" Maybe I was blinded by her age, but I still didn't see it. They're complete opposites.

"I do," he said. "The way I feel when I'm with her, the way she feels, the way other women have suddenly disappeared," he laughed. "I'm not even checking out other broads because what I have is better. And I'm supposed to fuck that up for a thrill? Fuck, no. I'm not saying I'd do the shotgun thing like Damion's trying to do with Amelia. But one day . . ."

I placed my hand on his shoulder. "I'm happy for you."

He groaned. "Why can't people leave us the fuck alone? So many fucking obstacles . . . She's worth every one. It's just bullshit."

"I hope you guys make it through this maze we call life," I sighed. "Mom and me went through shit. Carlisle wasn't the only wrench life threw at us . . . Christ. I hope you never know what I'm talking about." I turned to stare out the window. "This is heartbreaking for me . . . especially since—I know clipping fuckers isn't your thing. But you'd ice Dame."

He raised a brow, and he looked like he had more to say—something on the tip of his tongue.

"What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously." I smiled, hitting his arm. "I've been reading you since you were born—even had your cries down, knew what you needed. Talk to me."

"I was kidding earlier, about sending him to Jersey. You need to tell Luke . . . I mean, Luke sees him at a sit-down, knows he's getting involved. You need to let him know Dame doesn't have his button. Luke won't offer Dame a job, but Dame might offer his services. And you don't—we don't need that crazy fucker playing for the other team. He's stupid—knows nothing, and he might say some shit he's not supposed to. He just wants to murder people, go to school, fuck his girl and mine…Understand?"

"Yeah." I rasped, quick to clear my throat.

"I took his nine away. Unless you gave him another one, I'm sure he's itching to get one, too."

I laughed. "I gave him a butterfly knife—told him to be crafty."

Sonny snorted a laugh through his nose. "He needs to learn how to fight." And I was surprised that he wasn't talking down about his brother. Sonny is used to being the big brother, though—he's been cutting Damion and Kylie slack all his life. They've always done shit to him, and they've always leaned toward him if I was being a dick, or was away. "Why does he have to be like this?"

"I don't know, but don't you ever change. You love Maggie, you fight for your relationship. Fuck me, fuck everyone else. Don't pay me any attention. I still think she's young…" I nudged his elbow, making him smile. "But think about it, when you're pushing forty—looking old and shit, she'll still be young and hot. I got lucky…Bella—your mom." I just smiled, 'cause my baby's still got it. She's fucking sexy as hell.

"Mom takes good care of herself."

"That's one way of looking at it…but…I was being an asshole. You don't look thirty—"

"That's because I'm twenty-seven!" he shouted.

"You know what I mean. You look…twenty-three tops. Damion…he still looks like a teenager. He needs to work out or some shit. And Kylie, baby girl doesn't look older than fifteen. That's why I'm all like…with you and Maggie. It's weird."

"It's not weird to me. I'm not some creepy pedophile fuck. It's not even all about her body, or her looks. We just—we get each other and we connected," he sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know who I take after." Sonny touched his chest. "I remember shit…I remember a lot. You were skinny as hell before you went to prison. You keep yourself bulked up—have been for years. I started lifting weights because of you." He poked me. "But you and Dame can be two gangly motherfuckers."

"Fuck you," I laughed. "You and me are the same height. You're just wider…maybe you take after your mother's side—Emmett's big like you." I shrugged. "I don't know."

/=/=/=/

When we pulled up to Damion's building, Sonny didn't have any elaborate plans, although I saw that he was still pissed. I didn't tell him to cry like I did with Kylie. Then, Damion would never open the door for tears.

The front door to the dormitory was locked, but Sonny—who I realize is truly a crafty motherfucker—was quick to use his credit card, jimmying the door open. Then he pushed that shit lever in, and we were granted entrance.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" I hadn't done any shit like that in years.

Sonny actually cracked a smile as we walked down the hall to the elevator. "When I was just moving up—sometimes had to scramble to get Aro's tribute, I'd do side jobs. It's not shit I'm proud of—stealing petty shit, but…" He shrugged.

I nodded. "I've been there."

"I can pick just about any lock. For a little while it was like a hobby. For years…I never had shit to do. I'd meet up with this chick or that one, but what was I really doing?"

"Uh, school?" I raised a brow, knowing that shit never interested him in the first place.

"I was able to finagle…did what I had to do, leaning on professors for extensions and whatnot. Mostly, I was cool though. I'd study, do whatever for Aro, and my own thing. You'd be surprised how much downtime I still had."

The elevator came, and we entered. Damion lives on the third floor, and I bet we could have run up the steps faster. This building is old and dingy dirty. It's also very quiet, not what I'd imagine dorms to be like. Then again, it's late.

"Don't college kids party?" I asked as we left the elevator.

"This building, which is actually considered off-campus, is reserved for the older crowd—those in med and law school, graduate programs…" He trailed off. "You knock."

I shook my head. "You do it. I wanna see if he runs or something." Maybe I am a prick because I busted a gut laughing. "Sorry." I plan to stop Sonny from harming Dame, so…I can laugh at that.

Hearing someone trudging up the stairs, I pulled Sonny to the side. But then I was shocked as shit to see my brother stomping down the hall. He did a double take, staring at Sonny and me, but then he continued on.

"Yo…!" I widened my arms. "What are you doing here?"

Carlisle shook his head, gritting his teeth. He briefly stopped in front of Dame's door before he just kicked that shit in. The door opened with a bang, and then we heard a loud chick-scream. "You fuck—" He ran in, and that's what I call bursting in like a motherfucker.

Sonny and I exchanged a look, and then we sprinted in after him.

The door was half off its hinge. Carlisle was fast to snatch up Damion, who was naked and looked as surprised as the rest of us. He had Dame by his neck, smacking him back against the wall. Amelia was in his bed, hugging a sheet to her body.

"My wife? You put your fucking hands on my wife?" Carlisle seethed, bringing Dame's head away from the wall to slam him back.

"Be easy," I said, reaching.

Sonny stopped me. "You reap what you sow." He gestured to them, and even I couldn't deny my brother this. But how did he find out? I spoke to Alex myself—explained that Dame was drunk, that he didn't mean it, and I promised he'd never contact her again, which he hasn't.

"Get the fuck off me!" Damion pushed against him, but the look in Carlisle's eyes…He had that blind rage, which awards you an unlimited amount of strength. My son didn't stand a chance.

"Let go," I told Carlisle, which made him increase his hold on Dame's neck. "Carlisle!" I shouted, about to kick his legs in.

"Just give him a minute," Sonny said. "How you doin', hon?" he asked Amelia. "Why don't you take the sheet and your clothes—go down to the rest rooms?" He tilted his head out.

Amelia was crying as she stood up, gathering the sheet around herself.

"You fucking little piece of shit—you forced her, held a gun to her!" Carlisle slammed Dame's head in one more time, and then let go with force, throwing him down onto the ground.

Damion was curled on his side, coughing his brains out.

"Damion?" Amelia kneeled down to him.

"Just go," Sonny said, taking her hand and helping her up. "Here…" He took what looked like Damion's jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"You all right?" I nudged Dame with my foot.

"You—you were going to let him kill me?" He glared up at me.

My eldest got in my way. "No…you don't get to look at him like that," Sonny exclaimed. "Get the fuck up, you pussy."

"Fuck you—fuck all of you!" Damion stood up from the floor, grabbing his boxers.

"You call that a dick?" Carlisle put his leg out, making it swoop, which knocked Dame back to the floor.

"Cut it out!" I shouted. "The both of youse—"

"What?" Carlisle turned to me. "I deserve an explanation. He tells me some shit—I can't get it out my mind. I confront Alex—" He groaned, kicking Dame in his ribs.

I yanked him away, pushing him out into the hall. "Watch yourself."

Carlisle pointed at me, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head.

"You need to chill the fuck out. Nothing happened between Dame and your wife, all right? He was drunk. You, out of everyone in the fucking world, should sympathize—the shit that happens when you're fucked up." I instinctively flinched toward him. "Don't put your hands on my kid again. You hear me, Carlisle?"

My brother laughed. "Right…right. I'll relax. I'll calm down." He backed away. "You keep that fucker away from me, but this—him and me? We're not done yet."

I trailed my hand through my hair. "Carlisle . . . don't do some stupid shit, and then I have to clip you."

"I'll be at the New York Palace. I'm sure Aro, Anthony—they'll all be looking for me soon." He punched the wall.

I turned back to see Damion dressing himself while Sonny watched. I didn't have to worry about them for a second. "Whoa—why? What happened?"

"I fucking lost it." Carlisle pointed to his temple. "What the fuck do you think happened? She's my heart, my everything…the thought of her with someone else…"

"What happened?" Sonny came out into the hall.

"Is Alex okay?" I whispered. "What'd you do to her?"

Carlisle swallowed, tears in his eyes. "Does it fucking matter? She's fine, I guess—whatever. She's probably gone to your house by now, ran to Bella. I dunno. I gotta go."

"You should go home," I said.

"He beat on her?" Sonny asked.

I ignored him. "Carlisle!" I called after him, but he was fast to run down the steps.

Groaning into my hands, I looked back to Sonny and then Damion. "What—I don't know what to say or where to begin." I slumped my shoulders. Truth be told, I didn't know whether to start swinging, shouting, or crying. Feeling so exasperated with the situation, and, most of all, Damion.

I looked at Sonny, the floor, everything but Dame.

"We came separately." Sonny started, just as Amelia left the bathroom. "We're just as surprised he showed up as you are."

Damion cupped his neck, glaring at the floor.

Amelia walked over cautiously, fully dressed and with tears in her eyes. "I, um—" When she saw Damion, she ran into his arms. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, wrapping an arm around her. "Can I help you two?"

"_Can_ you help us?" I was actually in hysterics suddenly. "You little fucking troublemaker." Shaking my head, I waved a finger at him and Amelia. "Get rid of your girl because she might not like what I have to say."

He groaned, staring down at her.

"What?" she asked.

"You know what…" Sonny kept bopping his head, grimacing. "Enjoy your night—what's left of it. Yeah…" He smiled. "Tomorrow afternoon, we'll settle this shit—put it all out on the table. We'll make sure Unc is there, too. We'll all talk." He clapped once. "Sound good?" Sonny's gaze traveled back to me.

I shrugged my shoulders, knowing that if Carlisle did what he did, I was needed at home—to either try and save his marriage or to talk Bella down. She'd obviously be furious, and we had to talk anyway. I guess shit with Damion could wait. We had a monumental amount of damage control to do.

And truthfully? I was disappointed in myself—for failing as a parent, raising Damion, having him turn out the way he did. I couldn't even squash those feelings with thinking about all the wonderful attributes he does have.

I could barely fucking look at him.

I wasn't just disappointed in my son, I was fucking heartbroken.

"Yeah…" I scratched my head, on the verge of fucking tears. And I didn't know if I wanted to cry or choke Damion out myself. "Tomorrow…the situation will be calm." I waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn't. "Six o'clock, Eclipse, and you better fucking show up. We'll come back here to get you—" I stopped talking when the campus police trampled up the stairs.

"I'll be there," Damion said.

"Good evening!" Sonny wore a bright smile, talking to the officers. "We were just leaving."

"Hold up—" One of them started.

Sonny put his hand up. "We're leaving." He yanked on my sleeve, and we bounced—walked out, hopped back into his car and left.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

**Bwahahahaaha. How many of you hate Dame right now? I bet you all want to blame Maggie when she's actually the innocent in all this. Rock on, babes! **

**See you next Wednesday!**


	23. My Girl

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**HUGE thank you goes out to Cara No. My storm guru, my Twifey, and someone who helped piece this chapter together for me when I needed guidance . . .**

**Special shout out and thank you to all my readers in Dublin, Ireland! Woot Woot! It's surreal that this story reaches people everywhere. Where are you from?**

**Here's some fluff before the heavy**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: My Girl**

**Maggie POV**

When the last bell rang, I had my books and everything ready, my butt on the edge of the seat. I practically ran out of French, making the mad dash to my locker. Today was the last day before the long weekend—the holiday.

Everything was still up in the air as far as my parents were concerned. I was sure I wasn't welcome at their house, but I was welcome to have dinner with the Cullens.

It'll be Santino and my first holiday together. That thought, plus knowing he was outside waiting for me, filled me with so much glee, made me giddy.

Last night, I'd fallen asleep with Kylie in her bed. It was late when Santino came back to get me. He gathered me into his arms, and then carried me out to the car. He tried to do the same once we got to his apartment, but I was awake—although that didn't stop my Prince Charming from carrying me anyway.

I was exhausted, too—mentally, and just plain tired. Yesterday was a long day.

He tucked me into bed, and I woke up to the alarm clock blaring.

Santino remembered to set it for 6:30, so we'd have enough time to make love—or, maybe he just didn't want me to be late for school. Either way, I appreciated it.

_Being with him in the mornings makes me a morning person. _

I giggled to myself as I slammed my locker closed.

The other thoughts I have . . . I'm trying not to think about them. What Damion said last night totally had my brain going crazy—wondering if Santino is as truthful as he portrays, wondering about Eclipse, that girl Layla, what Damion meant by me coveting him, and the gun.

I remember what happened very well. Santino was going to speak more about Eclipse, and I cut him off, figuring it was just idle chatter, something we could have spoken about another time. I knew he had an important meeting with his dad, and Santino never pays any attention to the clock. I didn't want him in trouble.

Layla is a manager, regardless of what she was before she was a manager. The gun? I knew it wasn't just for decoration, and I've been thinking about that a lot.

Has Santino used his nine, as he calls it, to harm or kill someone? I keep going back and forth in my mind with it, and I don't really want to ask him about it. Because it just really doesn't matter, not to me—although I hope I can get him to open up, have more faith.

He doesn't have to go to confession or even to church. I'd just like him to speak to God himself?

"Oomph." Someone bumped me, and I dropped my books.

"Watch it!" Anna Lisa shouted at me.

"Sorry," I whispered, bending to get my school bag. I was sure she purposely rammed into me. She's always doing that.

She kicked it away from me while her friends giggled beside her. "Check out Virgin Mary," she laughed. "That's a really expensive bag to be carrying a bible in—is that Louis Vuitton? What'd you do, rob someone?" She just kept going. "Of course…you wouldn't. You're the Virgin Mary."

I gritted my teeth, my bag forgotten. "That's the last time you or anyone else calls me that!" I pointed, trying not to lose my temper.

She pushed my shoulder. "What the fuck are you going to do?"

"I'm not a virgin." I grinned. "That's one. Two," I pushed her back, "you don't wanna know what I'll do!" My stomach rolled with nausea. I had no idea _what_ I'd do—I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted them to leave me alone.

In Kylie's words, "Sometimes bitches just need to be put in their places". And I was never going to get them to back off unless I did.

"Who would fuck you?" She snorted.

"I have a boyfriend," I said. Anna Lisa was the one person I'd hoped would see me with Santino. She might have stopped, would have nothing to poke fun at. But who was I kidding? She'd find something.

"Yeah?" She laughed, looking back to her friends. "Is he imaginary? The one with the quivering loins you write about." They stole my book of stories last year—most everyone read them, and I wanted to die. But my parents made me come back to this place anyway.

I rolled my eyes, having about enough of this. "Have a nice holiday." I walked forward, grabbing my bag and taking off for the exit.

"Don't you walk away from me. Did I dismiss you?"

My steps were hurried as I rushed to make it outside.

And there he was…

His gaze caught mine fast, and when it did…

His Benz sat between two school buses, and he always parks there at the risk of getting towed. He just doesn't care.

My Santino was leaning back against his car. He was wearing one of his suits and his long black pea coat. He wore shades and had his ankles crossed, his dark hair pushed back.

_My hunk-a-man. My muscular, tall, hunk-a-man. _

When I was a kid, I remembered my aunt calling Robert Pattinson a tall drink of water. I never understood that phrase until I met Santino.

_I'd drink him. _

_Staring at him makes me thirsty…_

I sighed, and then I was nudged—nearly stumbled from the step. "Leave me alone!"

Anna Lisa snatched my scarf from me, and then tossed it to her friend Hilary. "What are you going to do?"

I groaned, yanking it back from Hilary. She just gave it to me—having always been nicer than Anna Lisa. "Thank you."

"Everything okay?" I heard Santino, feeling my face get hot. This was so embarrassing. I'm a loser, and I'm eighteen, and even _just_ being with me is hard for him. He shouldn't have to witness me getting bullied, too.

"Um…" I stared up at him, wanting to cry but trying not to. I'm used to this. I just never wanted Santino to see this.

The way he sees me . . . it's nothing like this.

"Everything's fine," Anna Lisa answered. "How can I help you?" She stood in front of me, practically against him, pushing her boobs out, and I don't know what came over me.

I grabbed her arm, pulling her back—shoving her away from him.

"Bitch—" She started, but then Santino had tossed me behind him.

"Back off," he told her. "You better keep your hands to yourself, or we'll have problems. Don't make me have to seek you out."

She grinned, swallowing and stepping back. "Are you a new teacher?"

Santino wasn't finished, continuing to speak over her. "I have a sister with a mean right hook—I taught her that myself. Maybe Maggie has too much class, but I don't, and my sister _sure as fuck_ doesn't. You don't touch her . . ." He shook his head, reaching back for my hand. "I'm no teacher. I'm her man."

"No!" Anna Lisa exclaimed, like the concept was ridiculous.

I balled my hands into fists—sick of people behaving that way when it comes to us. "Yes!" I yelled, fisting his shirt and practically crawling up his body. He turned and kissed me deeply, making the butterflies appear and everything else_ dis_appea_r_. His hands spanned my butt, and he lifted me to him.

My fingers wove into his hair, always loving how soft it is, as my legs wrapped around his waist, and I found myself wishing he'd take me. Just slam me against the concrete wall of the school and claim me.

_Fuck me._

_Dear Lord . . . _

"Excuse me."

Santino pulled away, and I kept my eyes closed—savoring that moment.

"Margaret Anne Sullivan, please explain."

"Huh?" I turned to Sister Mary Catherine, which was like getting splashed with cold water. "Um…"

"We're sorry, Sister." Santino let me down, and I made sure my skirt wasn't bunched.

"Santino Cullen? Is that you?" Sister Mary Catherine was trying to peer into his sunglasses.

"Uh, yeah. You're Sister…?" He had no idea who she was.

I giggled but tried not to, as I noticed Anna Lisa and Hilary were already at the bus stop. We still had their attention, and I waved to them. Their response was to scowl and finally look away.

"You were in my class for three years." She wore a smile now. "How can you not remember me?"

"Italian! You were my Italian teacher!" he exclaimed.

She giggled, much like I just did—almost like she had the hots for him. "_Sì. Suor Maria Caterina, Santino."_

"Sister Mary Catherine . . . _Suor Maria Caterina. Mi dispiace molto. Come potrei dimenticare questa faccia_?" He touched her cheek, which made her blush.

And it made me . . . Let's just say those butterflies were going crazy in my belly, and I wanted to jump on him again.

"_Non ha dimenticato come si parla. Molto buono_." She nodded, almost looking proud, staring up in admiration. Then she frowned, looking to me. "_Sei un po 'troppo vecchio per Margaret_?"

He cleared his throat, composing his smile. "_Ha diciotto anni. Ci amiamo. Intendiamo di sposarsi presto . . . E 'sono affari tuoi_."

Sister Mary Catherine nodded. "I see." She stared between the both of us.

Santino draped his arm around me, ushering us away. "Take care, Sister." We walked down the steps. "Great to see you."He waved.

I waved, too, wondering if she was going to call my parents. That'd be the icing on the cake, or maybe they just wouldn't care anymore.

Santino opened the passenger side door, and I plopped into the seat. When he entered the car, I wanted to ask him all that was said. I've taken French since freshman year.

"I didn't know you could speak Italian." Was the first thing out of my mouth.

"Well, I_ am_ Italian, and that's something I'm proud of." He put his seat belt on. "We never spoke it while I was growing up—except for like the bad words." He touched my chin. "Get over here."

I smiled brightly and leaned over to kiss him some more. That's something I never complain about—all the kissing. When he pulled away, we just stared at each other—the both of us grinning. A horn honked behind us, and I whipped my head around to see it was another bus.

Santino sighed, starting the car. "Should get outta hea before they block me in."

I fastened my seat belt as he drove away. "What were you guys talking about?"

"If those bitches touch you—fucking tease you, you tell me. Understand?" He placed his hand high on my thigh, giving it a squeeze.

"Okay . . . You'll send Kylie to beat them up?" I laughed, knowing she'd totally do it.

He raised a brow, smirking at me as we came to a stop sign. That look, his handsome face, I couldn't help it and giggled, but he never answered me.

"What were you talking to Sister about?" I asked again.

"Oh…um, she said you were too young for me. I told her we were in love and to mind her own business." He took his nine from his waist and placed it in his inside coat pocket, and I had no idea why he did that.

I nodded. "Sounds about right."

He squeezed my thigh again. "I love you, baby." He blew me a kiss.

"I love you, too." I leaned over to kiss his cheek.

He turned, catching my lips for a quick second. "I plan on hittin' it as soon as we walk through the door—of _our_ place. Think you can handle that?"

"Oh, yeah," I sighed, sitting back, and I bet I had a goofy grin on my face.

The spell was temporarily broken as he drove. "I, uh, I met up with your pops today."

"You did?" My stomach filled with dread. "Please tell me he was nice to you." That night, when my dad hit me, I kind of freaked out—was scared. He had never been that angry with me. It was a big deal when it happened, but two days later . . . I was just sad, knew Dad lost it, and I forgave him. It was the right thing to do—to forgive, but I know I'll never forget.

Santino still brings it up. He's still angry about it.

He nodded. "Cordial…polite to an extent. . . . _The man fucking hates me_." He grumbled, shoulders slumping and turning down the avenue. "He knows you're living with me…we shared a lot of words…He'd like for you to check in with your mom."

I rubbed my stomach. "She's not talking to me."

"He wants you to try. I don't know. I did the respectable thing—took him to lunch, told him you were living with me, and I didn't do anything to him—I didn't knock him one, as much as I wanted to. I was good, and I tried my best to get him to accept it—us as a couple."

I grasped his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles. "I'm sure you did. Thank you." I feel like I'm being torn in half, all while I'm also amazingly happy. In my heart, I feel no regret, glad with my decision. "I love you . . . I just wanted you to know again."

He pulled into the garage, reaching to hold my jaw. "You don't ever have to explain—you can tell me that however much you want."

"Cool," I said.

"I was able to make some chicken cutlets and macaroni . . ." He trailed off, contemplative. "I'm not hungry—ate too much at lunch, but it's there—for whenever. I made it so you could have dinner."

"Do you have to work early?"

He nodded. "I have to be at Eclipse by six…We're all getting together…we need to talk to Dame. I'm sure that'll be ugly, too." He briefly looked to me. "You never told me what he said. You went out like a light last night. I love watching you sleep. You just—you curl up into a ball and stay that way, then I have to straighten you out to snuggle, and you don't move or wake up." He chuckled.

I grinned down to my lap, suddenly nervous. I didn't want to upset him, wanted to talk about this later tonight, but I knew he was going to ask. "He, he insinuated that, um, you and Layla were, you know."

"And what do _you_ think?" he asked.

I shook my head. "If you did in the past, you did so in the past…I trust you."

"I never slept with Layla, and I don't plan to." He kissed my palm. "I have you and I love you, and…if you're curious about Eclipse—" He paused, stopped talking as he continued to drive. "This weekend—" Santino lifted my hand to kiss it again, "Saturday night. You can come down—see what it's all about. You can even meet Layla." He smirked back to me.

The butterflies were in my belly again, and I was nervous.

"We'll get you a dress, some heels . . . You don't need makeup, but you can have Kylie do it for you. I don't know. It'd be easier if you looked older—the less fuckers staring at you, the better—the less I'll be going googootz." He twirled a finger by his head.

"Okay," I whispered. "Thank you for wanting to show me."

"It's better I show you, rather than I try to explain. And I want you to know everything. I'm nosy as hell when it comes to all things you." He poked my side. "It's only fair . . . Plus, I want you to see—not every part of me, uh—I don't know." He looked sad, keeping his gaze down.

"Oh—" I lifted his chin, because a man like Santino should never look down. "We can talk later. . ."

"Later?" He grinned. "What about now? Spill it."

I grabbed my bag when he pulled into his spot. "You can't be late again."

"We have some time to chill, and I shouldn't be home late." He shut down the car to exit it. "We can talk about whatever you want now."

"Not now…can we talk more about that stuff when you get home? I mean, I'd just like to, to talk about some things in-length." I shrugged, thinking of _everything_ Damion said last night.

Having a lot of faith in Santino, I hope and pray Damion was lying. _Santino_ has no reason to lie to me. Sure, we've said our I love yous, and I know he cares about me . . . but Santino is Santino, and he doesn't owe me anything.

I _know_ the man I'm with, but I don't _recognize_ him as the man from Damion's words.

Having plenty of reasons to trust Santino, I only have one or two reasons not to—all the women who seem to be around him.

But he loves me.

He wants to be with me, and I love him like crazy.

"You plannin' on dumpin' me later or what?" He stared at me.

"No! God, no!" I shouted. "I want you to be able to explain, have the time with no interruptions. It's already after three, and you have to be there by six. You've said it takes thirty minutes to get there, and we never actually…talk when we say we're going to," I rambled, anxious again.

"Okay." He nipped my lips. "Good . . . 'Cause you're not allowed to break my heart. You promised my mother that night." I wasn't sure if he was teasing, even if his tone suggested it.

"I never break my promises."

"Never say never." He cocked a brow.

I left the car after him, and he held me tightly to his side as we walked. He said I could go hang out at the salon while he was gone. I could spend time with Kylie. She's leaving early to help their mom in the kitchen, and I could lend a hand as well. And now I couldn't wait to tell her about him taking me to Eclipse.

Plus, Sonny's not even sure if many people will be coming to Thanksgiving dinner. He says there's more conflict. Amazingly, that problem doesn't include us at all. His uncle, aunt, and all their kids weren't coming. Neither were Damion and Amelia, although he's not 100% sure. They'll likely visit her parents or something.

"You can cook, too?" I asked as we walked up the steps to his apartment.

"I manage my time well because I hate being bored. Boredom gets me into trouble. But yeah, I can do a lot of things." He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder to run upstairs. "You make me run late. I lose the whole concept of time with you." He chuckled.

I squealed, excited since I knew he wouldn't drop me, and I was able to get a free shot at his butt, slap it.

"Watch it, you!" He pinched mine.

"Eeee!" I giggled madly, still upside down as he unlocked the door.

Santino set me down when we got inside. We were still smiling and laughing until he turned to me, looking at me the way he does . . .

It's like he can see me, see my soul, and . . . it's intense, makes my tummy ache in the best way, a fire burning deep down inside and spreading.

"I missed you," he whispered, coming toward me. He backed me against the wall, kissing each of my cheeks, my eyelids, my forehead, my chin, running his hands down along my forearms to claim my own.

"I missed you, too." My chest heaved, and I was suddenly an overheated mess. "I thought about you all day."

He grinned, gently—with the softest of touches—trailing his fingertips up my thigh. It tickled, making me tingle all over, especially down below. "I thought about you, too," he said against my lips, his hand going higher.

My eyes rolled as he scooped my panties to the side, touching me in my private place—a place that he owns now; it belongs to him. I gasped, licking my lips, lifting my chin, and hoping he'd duck down—needing to kiss him. When he finally did, I opened my mouth wide—wanting all of him, all of that mouth, his tongue, savoring the taste of him.

I moaned when his fingers entered me, gasped when his thumb twirled around my clit. "It feels—it feels good."

"Good. It's all about you, baby," he crooned, out of breath himself. "I don't want you to worry about those girls at school. You outshine them all. You're gorgeous, and they're—they're jealous. That's why they tease you."

While I nodded and swallowed, I tried to think of a response, and I couldn't—I didn't want him to stop what he was doing.

"Look at you . . ." His tone was awestruck. "You like it when I touch your pussy?"

"Yeah, yes—it's yours."

"I know." He nipped my lips, letting out a grunt before he dropped down to the floor. His movements were rapid, and I missed his fingers. But then he took off my panties, draping my leg over his shoulder.

"Oh!" I shouted when he placed his mouth on me, licking me, his fingers reentering me. I tried to hold onto the wall, and then I held his shoulders. "Oh my God…" I wanted to scream, but I could barely form words.

It felt too good, him—his mouth was fantastic.

Reaching for his hair, pulling it roughly, I rubbed myself into him. I couldn't help it—I needed more. I whined, my hips squirming, and yet my body was stiffening from the excitement of it all.

Santino surprised me. He let out a growl, grasping my hands, taking them away from his hair as he stood up to face me again. I'm sure I wore a pout, a panting mess.

"Um…"

He crashed his mouth to mine, holding my hands above my head. He kissed, bit, and licked down my neck, coming back to my mouth, so I could taste myself. His touches were rough, and I kept rubbing my legs together, needing him. I always need him.

"Fuck me," I whispered.

When I say that word, it drives him crazy. When I say any cuss words, really.

"What do you want?" he asked, and his chest was heaving, going up and down very fast, and his gaze was still deep—almost a predatory gleam.

Santino was trying not to lose control, but little does he know . . . I love it when he does, when I don't have to be in charge, when he makes love to me.

I gulped. "I want you to fuck me…I need to feel you inside me."

He kissed me deep again as I heard him undoing his pants in a hurry, belt clanking and zipper coming down.

Grinning to myself, I really wanted him lose it.

Grasping his forearm, I pulled him toward the bedroom. "Can I sit on your face, so I can suck your big, fat cock?" I may not know much, but I know my dirty talk—even if my version is on the innocent side—drives my hunk-a-man crazy.

When I turned for the room, he yanked me back to him—placing his lips to mine to pick me up. My legs wrapped around his waist and he turned us—I was right back against that wall, only higher.

And then he was inside of me.

I swore my heart stopped, and I held my breath until he moved.

"You feel—Christ, baby. You feel amazing." His lips traveled everywhere, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders—enjoying the ride. "Fuck. You're so wet." He picked up the pace while I moved with him, trying to thrust back just as rough. "That's it—move with me."

I nodded, hitting him back even harder, my body shaking with how great this was.

He groaned, slowing down. "Be easy…I won't last—you just, Christ, baby." It sounded like he was pleading, holding my cheek, nuzzling his nose to mine.

That made me smile, wanting that, wanting to make him orgasm insanely fast. I didn't care about my own release—not as much as I cared about his pleasure, and I know how to make Santino lose control, how to get him to lose himself within me.

"When you fuck me like this . . ." I reached up for his hair, pulling it and pumping my hips—matching his movements again, and again, and again, only harder—making him go deeper. "I love you." I bit his earlobe, and then scraped my teeth along his neck before I bit down hard on that, too.

"Fuck!" He thrust into me, going as deep as possible, coming undone.

It made me gasp—swearing I can feel him in my stomach when he does that.

"Oh my God. Oh my God," he chanted, resting his forehead to mine, his breaths washing over my face. "I fucking love you," he laughed and then sighed. "Fuck, baby…that-that was the hottest shit." He kissed me forcefully and hungrily, the kind of kisses I've only read about.

"Shit…that was—" He let out another groan, wearing a bright smile, as he left me—let me down. "Now let's take care of you."

My legs were wobbly when my feet touched the floor. "You don't have to." Little did he know, just the act itself with him is as fulfilling.

He was still catching his breath; he still had his coat on and shrugged out of it to place it on the hook. "I want to." He grinned at me. "For every time I come—" he pointed to himself, stepping toward me, "you should come twice."

"Well," I giggled, feeling squishy, feeling a warm wetness seep between my thighs, "I like, um, those odds." My tone was supposed to be flirtatious, but…

"What's wrong?" he held my cheek.

"Um." I placed my hand on his, my eyes trailing below his belt. He was still undone, and there was nothing on his penis. It was a smaller version of perfection, although he still seemed excited—it was still bigger than when . . . we're not, and I realized—that although his is the only peen I've ever seen—they look awfully sad when they're soft. Then I remembered I didn't actually see him put a condom on, just assumed he did it while my eyes were closed, while I was kissing him. "You didn't—you didn't use—"

His eyes widened. "I am so sorry." He softly placed his lips to mine. "We can—I can draw you a bath, you can clean yourself out, um… I'm an idiot—I just—"

"It's okay." But it really wasn't. I was scared.

"It's not," he said. "This is going to sound fucked-up, but . . . I've had unprotected sex before, but I never _cared_ before, _actually cared_ . . . about the end result. Well, I did care. Those other women were, were on the pill, though. Fuck. I just—I got carried away and—but I care about you so much, and this is—this is—I totally forgot, never cared before. I'm clean, you're clean, and I'm just scared to knock you up—you'd hate me." He turned in a circle, holding his head. "All this makes me sound horrible."

"It doesn't!" I exclaimed. "Thank you for telling me—being honest. Accidents happen."

"The morning after pill." He nodded. "Later, I'll stop and pick it up at the pharmacy."

"Okay."

"What are the odds, though?" He scrunched his nose. "I'm sure you're fine—don't worry about it."

"That's easier said than done." I tried to laugh it off, but I haven't even started my birth control pills yet.

The doctor said to wait until my next period or until they call with all my test results—to make sure I'm not already pregnant, which actually is as scary as it sounds, but we've been using condoms every time. I'm due soon, I think. I never kept track of it. My cycles are irregular—never have been normal. There was never anything to worry about because I wasn't having sex. When I told Santino that—he was worried, wanted to know my cycle—he suggested I go to the doctor.

Dr. Scott said it was common, and there was nothing wrong with me. Once I start the pills, my period will even out. They said someone would likely call by Friday, the day after the holiday, and I know I'm STD-free—Santino being the only man I've ever been with. I'm excited to start the pills on Friday.

"Where'd you go?" He palmed my cheek.

"Just…thinking." I tapped my forehead. "Didn't Katie get pregnant, and it was only one time?"

He shook his head. "We messed up. She was trying to have a baby with her husband and was on fertility drugs—fuck. You must think we're fucking stupid."

"No." I smiled.

"Well, she never told me. I found out after when my mother was running her mouth—that Katie was on fertility drugs. At first, I was pissed. Not anymore, though. I don't have any ill feelings, and I think it's because of you." He poked my nose. "You've showed me so much—you challenge me, you make me think, and you calm me down in ways…you make me better." He pecked my lips.

Santino was about to deepen the kiss when I grinned and said, "When passion takes over . . . and if you were lusting after her, hated that she was married. I can see you going for it, even though you didn't have a condom."

He nodded. "You're a lot more mature than most twenty-five-year-olds." He stared at me, smirking. "We may not talk often, but when we do—you and me. We can converse without it turning into a fight…you're understanding, and you never judge me. Maggie, I need—_fucking need_—you to know how much I love you." He took my hands into his. "My world is intense, and…people don't always have the best intentions. Like Dame tried to fuck with your head, others might too. It might not be the last time. So, if you hear something about me—something questionable—please talk to me first before you jump to conclusions. Okay?" Santino pushed my hair back.

"Okay," I said. "And…I love you just as much, if not...I wanted to say more." I hated myself, that I was close to tears. "I feel too much sometimes."

"Me too." He hugged me tightly. "You have no idea how sorry I am, though—about that other shit. Next time, you bop me on the head, smack me—do something."

"Soon we won't need the condoms," I said, and I realized he felt even better this time—without it. "That_ was_ amazing…"

"It was—with us it's always fantastic." He kissed my hair. "I have a huge tub…I can join you, and then I'll fix your dinner before you go to the salon."

"Thanks…I can fix my own food, though." I still liked the sound of that.

He shook his head. "Nope. I'm serving you."

I giggled. "Will you have enough time?" He was put together like he was ready to head to Eclipse—in his suit.

"I have an hour before I have to leave . . . and that's plenty time to make you come twice, and set you up with food." He lifted me up, holding me in his arms.

"I love you." I smiled.

"I love you, too." He kissed my lips, whisking me off into the bathroom.

"Christ…I can't wait to see how my good girl looks wearing a skimpy little dress. I'm thinking something black with sequins." He sat me down on the toilet, and then started to run the bath. "I know what I like, but you can wear whatever you want." While he did that, I kicked off my shoes, tore off my socks, and saw the candles . . . the bath oil, the salts, and bubbles. There was a basket filled with things that weren't here this morning.

The candles were already lit, making the bathroom smell like lavender. He must have set this up before he came to get me. He'd planned to draw me a bath?

"What's all this?"

He took my hands to stand me up, and then continued to undress me. "I don't know—I wanted to do something for you?" His mouth pulled into a smirk, pushing my shirt away from my shoulders.

I let my white oxford shirt fall to the tiled floor. "You called me a good girl." That made me giggle. For the past month, I've been everything but.

He unbuttoned my skirt, and then that just fell down as he ran his hands along my back. "Christ…you're sexy."

When he says that it still makes me blush.

_I mean, me? Sexy?_

"You are a good girl—my ray of sunshine," he whispered. "You're 'My Girl', like the song." Santino broke out into a fit of chuckles. "When it's cold outside…with you by my side, it's like the month of May?" He cocked a brow.

I blew out a shaky breath. He swears he's always saying the wrong things, but then he says stuff like that. "I—I don't think those are the exact words," I giggled. "But—"

"Shhh." He palmed my breasts. "These tits…_my_ tits." He groaned, reaching back to undo my bra, his mouth already claiming them.

My eyes rolled, my heart sored, loving the fact that I was within his embrace again.

And on was the cycle . . .

I forgot about the world once more.

"Fuck…even the _bees_ envy me, baby. That's some shit. How'd I get so lucky, huh?" he palmed my ass, holding me tightly to him.

I snorted a laugh, because I think I'm the lucky one. "Shut up and fuck me."

"Oh!" He smiled brightly. "I can definitely do that." With a nod, he gathered me into his arms again.

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**You guys ready? Just kidding. It's not too heavy. Hello, btw. Didn't mean to pull you out of the chap (waves)**

**I'm trying to be more interactive within the fandom. (snort)**

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**/=/=/=/=/=/**

**EDWARD**

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Since I knew Sonny was having lunch with Shorty's dad and then picking her up from school, I made sure to call him at 5:30 . . . Just in case he needed a reminder. I know all too well how you can get carried away, especially when it's new . . . when you're literally fucking every spare moment you have together.

I smiled sadly to myself, missing how simple and happy times can be. Meanwhile, back then, it's like . . . the end of the world, everything, your emotions are confusing, and you think more with your body—your passion. Well, I did, but only because I had no fucking clue what love was; I went with my instincts.

When Bella and I first met . . . I was late to everything for nearly a month; meanwhile, before that, I was never late a day in my life. It's big, being on time. If you're late, that means the people waiting—their time isn't important. Being late is seen as disrespectful—a waste of the other's time. Plus, you can always call and switch shit around, but you can never have people waiting.

Sure enough, Sonny was running late. He'd dropped Maggie off with Kylie, and was rushing—swearing he left with plenty of time, but he had to make another stop. He was at the pharmacy when I spoke to him, on his way here. I told him to get me some Fritos. He was already there, at the store . . .

Carlisle spent most of the day here with nothing better to do.

Aro just showed up . . .

They were both quiet, drinking and sitting across from me.

Sure, Aro had limited knowledge of what was going on, but I needed him here. As weird as it sounds, he does play peacekeeper.

Last night, things were as bad as I thought they'd be. When I got home, Bella wanted to talk, and she hadn't mentioned anything about Alex at all. That surprised me, so I asked if she'd spoken to her.

Alex never called, which was a good and bad thing. Good in the aspect that she was keeping whatever happened between her and Carlisle. Bad in the aspect that I brought it up, and now Bella was worried.

Truthfully, I was really antsy—wanted their problems to stay their problems, but that's not _only_ their problem. Our son was the catalyst behind that whole mess.

I knew—have known for over two months now—what Damion did. I was upset with him when I found out, but even more . . . I'm fucking devastated now. I thought he _thought_ he was in love—was drunk, had a huge lapse in judgment. But now the shit with Maggie . . . his blatant disregard for others, his family no less. This bullshit engagement to Amelia, although he hasn't asked her yet.

Carlisle hasn't said much, and why would he? If he did anything to Dame, I'd kill him and enjoy doing it. If Damion, somehow, contacts Maggie, I'm not sure if I could stop Sonny.

Lord knows I'd kill—fucking tear someone limb from limb—if they touched Bella, blood or not.

My heart felt ripped apart, and I needed Bella. I needed to flesh out everything—tell her everything, while I also fought hard to not burst into tears. It was a terrible feeling, one I'd never felt before—saddened, disappointed, ashamed, guilty—as I had all these different emotions hitting me at different times. They just kept coming at me, my stomach in knots.

Bella knew something was wrong, but I had her call Alex before I just broke down. I was worried about her, too. My brother hardly ever loses his temper. When he does—he fucking does. And I couldn't judge him—the horrible shit I did to Bella when I thought there was something going on between her and Aro. Whatever Carlisle did, it couldn't be much worse than that.

Only, it might be. He's told me over the years—how much emotional damage, scar tissue Alex still had from her relationship with Mauro. He was abusive, and Carlisle . . . he fought hard to gain her trust, never ever raised a hand to her, hardly ever really shouted at her. They did have a very happy marriage, despite them bitching every now and then.

Bella, none the wiser, called Alex—heard her blubbering, although Alex kept saying she was fine. My wife asked what happened over and over again, and Alex never answered her.

I got on the phone—said I knew Carlisle did something, and that we were concerned, to talk to us.

She swore she was fine, said he was rough with her, basically smacked her around a bit before one of the twins woke up. Supposedly, when Carlisle saw Li'l Ronnie, he just left—that's when he left for Dame's.

Carlisle flat out told me what happened—that he felt like shit when he saw Ronnie. They never argued. He approached Alex, said he knew something happened, and asked her to explain. She got halfway through the story, and then he backhanded her. She fell back from the force of the blow, and then he picked her up by her hair to do it once more.

What I don't get . . . She told him how persistent Damion was, with the gun and all, which was news to me. At one time or another, they'd both drawn on each other—Damion placed his nine to her neck to get her to kiss him, Alex placed it to him to get him to back off.

And Carlisle _still_ knocked her one.

Just the thought . . . of her with another man, even if Damion forced her to kiss him.

And it was something as innocent as a kiss.

Logically, for those who can think logically, it's not that serious. I'd kill a motherfucker.

It sucks, makes us humongous douche bags, but I understood—could sympathize with his state of mind.

He's scared to go home, afraid to find the house empty—that Alex would have taken off with the boys.

She's still there, hasn't gone anywhere. She thinks it's her fault, that she deserved it.

But back to Bella . . . She wanted to go over there as we only live a few blocks away. I stopped her, because I needed to tell her why Carlisle lumped Alex up in the first place.

Since Alex swore she was fine, Bella told her to call if she needed anything. When she ended the call, I felt like the biggest pussy. I planted my head to my wife's abdomen and just cried . . . I couldn't keep it bottled up any longer.

_I broke down completely, hugging—squeezing—her so fucking tight. The tears soaked her shirt. I needed, physically needed, to let it out. Nausea rolled in my gut, heart pounding, feelings just rushing all over the fucking place._

"_Edward," she croaked, confused, worried. I could feel her hands on my head, my shoulders…checking to see if I was intact—what the fuck do I know. But she knew it was something. "Talk to me, baby." She was pleading; I could hear the desperation and fear in her voice. But what the fuck could I tell her? Everything, was the answer, but…fuck. "You're scaring me—did something happen?" _

_I sniffled, choked on a fucking sob, and looked up at her. _

I didn't know where to begin, which I told her, so she asked me to explain—start at the beginning. Bella was shocked to see me in tears and afraid—she thought something happened to one of the kids.

I told her everything—starting at the beginning, like she asked me to.

Damion taking out some fucker, realizing that he was decent at it, like his old man, and deciding he wanted to do it again.

"_Oh, God." Her face crumbled, and tears followed quickly. _

_She had no idea I had barely even started. I wiped my cheeks and forced out the next words._

The shit about Damion being handed contracts by Sonny. . .

Me finding out about it.

What happened between Alex and Damion, which fucking shocked the shit out of her.

_She was in disbelief, shaking her head over and over again. _

But I pushed forward. I told her about the sit-down, the conversation Carlisle and I had with Damion and Sonny about Dame's involvement—how he didn't want any part of the thing, how he planned to never do anything again.

Damion clipping Joe.

"_No, no, no." She wept, still shaking her head—in denial. "God—please, no, no…no, I can't—this can't be happening."_

I swallowed, tried to push down my emotions, but it was fucking impossible. Those tears kept coming. I squeezed her a bit harder, needing contact. But inside, I was a raging mess, and soon I ended up pacing. I wanted to throw up, punch a wall, or…just anything—something. An outlet. Which turned out to be my spewing out more words…

I told her about Damion having a meltdown, pointing his nine at Sonny, Aro, and Caius.

Me needing to teach Dame a lesson, how he's been "sort of" working for me.

The shit with Maggie and Sonny.

Thankfully, I was pretty much finished because . . . she was so upset, she asked me to stop.

It was four in the morning, the tears were still spilling from her eyes, and she pleaded for me not to tell her any more. Bella, who's always yearning for information, who always wants to be in the know . . . Good, bad, or indifferent, my wife always wants the story.

"_Just stop," she begged hoarsely. "I can't—" She held up her hands, and I could see it in her red-rimmed eyes, she'd had more than enough. Another heart broken . . . _

She cried herself to sleep, and I held onto her tightly—following right after.

When she woke up, she was still a wreck—wondering if we could commit Damion against his will, have him checked out by psychiatrists or whatever. She didn't care about my work matters, how that might come up, but she did care when I brought up some shit.

I mean, what's Damion supposed to say? I kill people and feel nothing? Human beings don't matter to me? They'd fucking lock him up for the rest of his life.

Bella's beating herself up, thinks it's her fault, but it's not. Damion is the sweetest, most polite, and loveable person around his mother. It's me. I'm the prick. It's my fault. Maybe I did something wrong. Fuck. I know I have.

Bella's nervous, too. She keeps saying she doesn't know him—doesn't know her own child, and she's scared to even see him. But she wants to see him. She wants to hold him. She wants to sit him down and have him talk to her.

That all sounded great, if the kid could tell the fucking truth. He was going to today. He was going to spell it out for Carlisle—what really happened. My brother deserves that much, while Sonny deserves to say his piece—his warning.

I don't think there's anything to scold Damion for yet, as far as Maggie was concerned. But I'm sure Sonny will be looking for some type of explanation, too.

Damion showed up before Sonny. He knocked on the office door, kept his head down. He looked reproachful—_looked_.

And he had Amelia with him—her hand tucked into his.

"Uh…" I stared at her, wasn't sure what to say.

"She knows; I told her what happened that night." He briefly looked to Carlisle. "Because _nothing_ happened."

My brother had _nothing_ to say.

"Sonny should be here any minute. What about that other shit?" I asked.

"I want_ everything_ out in the open," he said.

"No." I pointed. "Amelia, call Pietro, have him come get you. Have a drink or a few while you wait."

She furrowed her brow up at Damion. "What's going on?" With everyone else here, did Damion really need Luke coming for his ass, too? What goes through this kid's mind?

"Nothing. Some things can't be discussed…you know…in front of . . . I didn't think of that." He planted his lips to her hair, whispering his words, and that sounded like a very plausible excuse.

Amelia left. Damion walked her out to the bar, and then came back. He sat down with a beer, wincing, and I'd guess Carlisle bruised his ribs last night. That _should_ piss me off, if I didn't think Damion deserved it. He definitely had that shit coming.

Like Sonny last night, Aro was paying way too much attention to his phone. Carlisle was…he was just fucked, and I had no idea—even if Sonny isn't here yet—how to start or what to say to Damion.

"You guys go." I looked to Aro and Damion. "Go wait with Amelia. When Sonny gets here—"

"I'm here!" He came running into the office with a plastic bag in his hand. "My bad." He tossed my Fritos onto the desk. Sonny didn't look upset at all. The smile on his face…that fucker looked like he won the lotto or something.

"What's up?" I asked him, his smile making me grin.

"Nothing."

"What's that?" Aro asked, pointing to the bag. "What'd you need at the pharmacy? Needed to get your girlfriend some coloring books?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Sonny pointed. He'd sidled up to me, thrusting that bag into the desk drawer. "Why you in my business? Why you gotta get on my ass as soon as I enter the joint, man? Katie and I aren't together—get the fuck over it already."

"He's right," I said, facing my friend.

Aro put his hands up, not saying any more. To my surprise, after a few seconds of Sonny settling down, he went right back to being happy—happy-go-lucky.

"I mean, seriously, Aro...Just get off my ass! You wanna fuck me or somethin'? You jealous?" Sonny started laughing.

I nodded, knowing I could leave Sonny alone with Damion since he was in a good mood.

"Fuck you." Aro gave him the finger.

"That's enough—this shit ends now. It's annoying and cunty . . . Go talk to your brother." I patted Sonny's back, looking to Aro. "You make sure they don't kill each other."

"I'd rather we all spoke," Damion said.

"I don't care what _you _want. Go." I jerked my head to the door. "Make sure Amelia's out of earshot."

Damion groaned, dragging his ass out of the chair. Aro followed, and Sonny was still standing next to me, taking off his coat.

"I don't even know what to say to him anymore." Sonny trailed his hand through his hair, and that motherfucker had a hickey on his neck—two actually, right below his ear.

"Look at you," I laughed. "Do you feel like you're a teen again? Being with Maggie? 'Cause you're acting like it—young, and happy, and in love." I was very happy for him, my chest feeling lighter.

He shrugged. "I don't know what it is, but it confuses me. All I know is…I'm ecstatic. I've told you." He nudged me.

"That's nice," Carlisle whispered. "Good for you."

I grabbed Sonny's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Let Dame talk," Sonny whispered down to me. "That's what I plan to do . . . you know, if you don't know how to start..."

"Thank you." I truly appreciated him saying that.

"Be the Skip." Sonny winked.

"What happened with Maggie's dad?" I asked.

"He hates me—doesn't want me with his daughter at all. He wants her back home, which means she has to say goodbye to me . . . Yet he threw some shit about us getting married at me."

"How do you feel about that?"

He jutted his lower lip out, contemplative. "I can see it, but over time, after shit is sorted. I'd ask just to have a ring on her finger—so fuckers know she's taken." He stared into space. "I'm content just to have her with me, though—living with me, just with me." He shrugged.

"And the baby?"

He chuckled, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "I've told you. She knows—she doesn't mind or care. The baby will be _my_ responsibility. Before she started working at the salon, she used to baby-sit. She adores kids . . ." He smiled even wider. "Before we got together—because of the nun thing—she said she'd never given any thought to getting married, having babies, and the whole nine."

"Is that what _you_ want?" I asked. "With her?"

He nodded slowly. "I do…which sucks because…I'm ready for that now. She—well, she's obviously not. We hafta talk again…We didn't really dive into it or flesh it out."

"Okay." I nodded and then he left the office.

Once Carlisle and I were alone, I waited for him to speak as well. Hoping he'd open up, I didn't see why he wouldn't.

Problems aside—just like Sonny and Damion—we're best friends. Aro, Carlisle, and I—we've always been there for each other, even when we hated each other.

Tension was still high as it was rolling off of him in waves, and the silence was threatening to eat me alive.

"You know how much Alex loves you," I said. "She hasn't left—thinks she deserved what you did."

He covered his eyes with one hand, and I knew he was weeping.

"She's already forgiven you . . . you also know that she didn't really cheat on you."

He sniffled, lifting his head. "It was all that fucker!"

I shrugged. "This is _all_ fucked up. I don't know what to say to you or him, or how to squash this. You know the rules. Technically, you can defend Alex's honor—take Dame out back right now and clip his ass. There'd be nothing wrong with it. No one would question it . . . Except me, Bella . . . your family." I swallowed, nervous because this can go either way. "If you clipped him, though, you'd follow."

"He did that shit to his aunt. How fucking horrible is that?"

I couldn't help it and grinned. "We never had aunts who looked like Alex when we were kids."

Carlisle woke up, probably wanted to grin but couldn't. "I'm not going to kill him. Anyone else . . ." He trailed off. "He's to stay away from her. I just hope I have a marriage to go back to…hope I have a wife—"

"You know you do," I whispered. "Carlisle . . . you guys have been blissfully happy for years. One wrong move, one fucked-up thing, doesn't call for divorce. She's already forgiven you. I'm sure you'll eat some shit for a while—_we all do_—but things'll go back to normal soon. You'll see." And talking to him like this just makes me want to go home and squeeze the shit out of my wife.

"You're a forgiving person, too." I continued. "You don't have that hate—that coldness. You'd wanna die after you iced Dame . . . after you thought about it for a while. I don't know if Dame's apologetic—I don't even know why he told you."

Carlisle opened his mouth, and I was fast to speak over him. "I knew about it," I admitted. "I also knew nothing—_nothing_—really happened, and getting you worked up, getting you upset, wasn't worth it . . . Alex wanted to tell you. Shit, she felt some way with Bella, too—guilty. But your wife didn't do anything wrong. I don't know what's up with this kid." Feeling exhausted, I massaged my forehead.

"Why did he tell me?" Carlisle asked. "All I did was—yesterday, I leveled with him. He was talkin' some shit…" He shrugged. "Then he comes out with that shit . . . I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Of course not, C…I understand. You think I don't know what you're going through . . . The shit with Bella back in the day? Fuck me. You're lucky _you_ scraped through the first years of my marriage." I chuckled.

He raised a brow, his mouth pulling up into half a smirk. "I never crossed that line."

"You almost did," I said, nodding. "Bum rushing her into the office at Twilight. If I didn't see youse . . . who knows? You'd be dust in the wind by now."

"I don't remember that—it never came back to me."

"And Dame was drunk as fuck. You know—_you know_ the kid doesn't drink that often. Meanwhile, he drank like a bottle of vodka, C."

Carlisle didn't say anything for a long while.

"Look, the kid is probably shitting his pants right now." I doubted that but said it anyway. "He's got you and Sonny out for him, and if he doesn't watch himself Luke will be added to that list. I—I wonder if Dame is suicidal—dead-ass. But . . . you spoke to him last night, the little you did speak to him. I think you got your message across. Now…go home and save your marriage."

He blew out a breath. "I should have another drink—get a dance, something to help me relax." He sipped his scotch.

"No," I said. "You'll end up fucking some cooz, and then it'll be this cycle because you'll get away with it, so you fuck another broad, and another, and then you'll settle with some goomah. Go the fuck home." I pointed to the door. "Don't fuck shit up even more. You know you don't want this—you want all this to disappear somehow. Go hug your wife, kiss her tears away . . . You think she left, and she thinks you're never coming home. Just go, C."

"Yeah." His voice was raspy.

"Youse'll be good."

"Right." He made no move to leave.

"Go!" I shouted. "You don't need to talk to Dame."

"I do," he said. "I know Alex's version, but I need to know—"

"You don't . . . Trust. Your. Wife," I said it slowly. "My son's a liar any-fucking-way. Christ!" I fucking hated this, possibly more than Carlisle did. "I heard the story from Dame's lips, and it's the same—swear to God. I wouldn't lie to you."

"But you covered for him—"

"He's my kid! Of course I did," I laughed. "Dame going after his aunt? You think I want people to know about that sick shit? Least of all, let it get back to you? And you'd cover for your kids, too—if the shoe were on the other foot. Fucking little Eddie…the way he follows Kylie—"

"Dude." He put his hands up. "I told him it wasn't right he look at her like that. He's—he's going on sixteen, needs to get laid or something. Maybe we can lie to one of the girls here, have them do something—"

"Yeah, whatever . . . But you see how you're quick to defend?" I asked. "Go home, okay?"

"Speaking of that horny devil, he's called me a record of ten times today—knows something's wrong, although he's not sure."

"You see? Go home. Relax. Snuggle with your wife, and apologize until you're blue in the face—have sex." I pointed to him. "Reclaim that shit again if you feel you have to." I shrugged, knowing that always made me feel better. "But call me, lemme know wassup."

He nodded, standing and grabbing his jacket.

I finished my drink before I walked him out, wanting to make sure he left without saying shit to Dame.

While I was out on the floor, I peeped Dame and Sonny talking. My eldest was very animated in his words, talking with his hands and such; however, what he was saying didn't sound like it sat right with Aro. He wore a scowl, like he does with anything that concerns Sonny these days. I'd bet Sonny was going on about the wonderful Maggie—that was Aro's problem.

Damion would put his head down or glare into his brother's eyes. It seemed as though he was having a war within himself—heed Sonny's warnings, go for it anyway, or . . . I think I detected remorse? I wasn't sure.

"She's an angel, okay?" Damion shouted. "And I don't mean in the good, behavioral sense. In the _all-around_ sense." He twirled a finger. "She's a fucking angel—sent from heaven . . ." He groaned. "You just don't deserve her—fuck. I don't either. Just let her go!"

"Why the fuck should I?" Sonny asked, as I slid into the booth next to him.

Damion, upon seeing my arrival, shut down.

"Answer him." I jerked my thumb.

Damion scratched his forehead. "You were hungry—_thirsty_ for love, and here comes Maggie . . ." his fingers crawled along the table, "persuasive, _innocent as fuck_, Maggie. You want to hate me, but look at what you're doing to her! She'll be knocked up in a year, and by then . . . you'll realize that you never loved her. But it's all good because now you got this little trophy wife. She'll never go to school, _you'll_ start fucking around, and she deserves more out of life than being your bed warmer, your little breeding machine—she deserves better than anything _you_ could give her, including yourself."

He sat back and continued. "You were on the rebound…Maggie made you forget about Katie . . . Lord knew you hadn't gotten laid in a minute—and the first chick to show she was interested . . . boom! You fell in love. Isn't that a fucking coincidence?" He raised a brow. "She's not even your type, not even on an intellectual level or anything else. I mean, I bet all you two do is fuck, talk about how much you love each other to fill the silence. Youse are in this little love bubble. Well, let me fill you in, that high doesn't last forever. It's going to get old pretty-fucking-fast. Get real! You're using her. Just admit it to yourself before you destroy her."

I peeked over to Sonny who wore a blank face with his brow furrowed, but then he smiled. "That's not true. Everything _you_ just fucking said, it was a reflection of your own shit. That's what you do—deflect. _You_ feel that way about Amelia, bro. Not me."

Damion banged his fist down, and he truly looked pissed.

"Oh . . . for real?" Sonny was provoking him. "I don't have to sit here and defend my feelings or my relationship. I'm a big boy. Unlike some people, I know what love is, and I know how to treat a woman—as much as _you think_ I don't. I'd never hurt her, or do anything to harm her, and you . . . Be honest, say what you did yesterday. You wanted to fuck her and bounce, and once I came into the picture . . . you got all sour. You couldn't have her. Maggie was no longer an option. I get that you care for her in your sick and twisted, warped way, but keep your nose out of my relationship. I'm not saying you have to like it. But fucking respect it—respect me as your brother, the prick who looked out for you since you were born . . . Fuck, Dame." He shook his head, exasperated.

"Forget about doing Amelia dirty; you're ready to do me dirty? Try to steal my girl? Try to fuck her?" Sonny pointed to himself. "That's wrong, and I've never been anything but good to you—your whole life. I've cared for you, put you first, looked out for you, and this is how you repay me?"

I sat there nodding along, agreeing with everything Sonny said.

Damion smirked. "It actually has_ nothing_ to do with you. I can't tell you why I feel the way I do . . . I don't know what it is about her, man." He slouched back. "I really can't. You're right, though. Seeing her with you? I realized she was no longer available. I had the chance—to either be with her or be her friend, and I fucking blew it. But it was because I was terrified." He'd brought his voice down. "No." He waved a finger. "I wanted to stay away—had it in my head to stay away, and then I met Amelia, which made it even easier. I forgot about Maggie, but not really. And maybe that makes me slime, but _that's_ the way it is."

"Worry about Amelia. That's it," Sonny said, dusting off his hands. "Worry about your own girl, and I'll worry about mine. She's living with me—she moved in with me, Dame—"

"What?" Aro asked. "You moved Katie out just so Little Miss Jailbait could move in?"

"Don't fucking call her that shit!" Sonny made to stand, and I pulled him back down.

"Give it a rest, or we'll have problems," I said. "You hear me, Andino?" That shit was getting old.

"I'm trying to understand shit here. He moves out the mother of his child, so another child could—"

"Enough!" Now I went to stand.

Sonny kept me sitting. "Look, Katie made that decision—she moved out of her own accord. We also discussed Maggie, too. Katie met her on more than one occasion already, said she was a nice girl. Talk to your daughter. Maybe she'll tell you the truth. I don't know. She's hell-bent on playing some victim lately."

Aro had no reply to that. Maybe he just felt left out or something and had to open his big mouth.

My own brows rose, staring at that fucker.

"So she moved in with you…" Damion thought that was hilarious. "Look at yourself, Sonny. You're fucking starving for affection—"

"No, I never had a problem with affection. Any time I needed affection?" Sonny snapped his fingers. "I got it. That shit is all on you. Stop trying to pass your bullshit on to me."

Damion didn't reply.

"Dude, no one was more shocked than me—that I fell in love with Little Miss Sunshine," Sonny laughed. "We're together and that's that. And I don't give a fuck who has a problem with it." He looked from Dame to Aro. "It's y'all's problem. Not mine. There's no beef on my end. I'm the happiest I've ever been, which leads me to believe youse are hatin'."

"Stop," I said to him. "You're right. You don't have to defend shit." I felt horrible since he's being doing that for the past month, especially to me.

"You slept around for years—" Damion started.

"Shut up about me." Sonny spat. "Be a man and be-fucking-straight with me…for once in your life, dude. While we're at it, you're ready to be engaged after, what? Three months? Gimme a break. Maggie's living with me. It's done. Please, just let this go." He gritted his teeth, stiffening. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you touch her—and hurting you would hurt Mom. I just want your word—that you'll leave her alone."

"You're just jealous," I spoke up. "Plain and simple, you're green with envy, and I don't know why. You have a great thing with Amelia . . . I see you two together, just like I see Sonny and Maggie—both of youse—my sons are in love. But I can't understand the mind-set, Dame. I'm still head-over-heels in love with your mother. I could never in a million years fuck around . . . Are you _also_ in love with Maggie?" I ducked to look into Dame's eyes. "I've heard it's possible—to love two people at once."

He slightly shook his head no, but then said, "I don't know what it is about her or why I want her. I know what my feelings are for Amelia . . . I don't know what this is with Maggie, and I am being straight—I'm telling you the absolute truth. It feels compulsory, borderline obsessive . . . If I didn't want to fuck her, I'd agree to back off, and this conversation would be over. I'm being honest."

Sonny rubbed his chest. "How can you even sit there and tell me shit like that? That breaks my fucking heart—makes me wanna break your fucking head. Hell. Maggie IS my heart, understand? And you're sitting here—" He groaned, letting out a growl and slamming his fist down.

I was quick to cover the rock with paper. "Relax," I said.

"What the fuck do you care?" Damion spat at me. "Let him kill me. You were going to let Carlisle do it last night."

"No—"

"You didn't make a move to help me at all!" Dame shouted. "Fuck the shit about these broads." He looked to Sonny. "I'll keep my distance, okay? She's like…bewitched me in some way. I'm telling you. I. Don't. Know. But I'll respect your relationship." He stood up. "This whole family is fucked—why do I even bother?"

"When _do_ you bother?" I stood up, too, needing to stop him. "What do you do besides cause trouble? Huh? You only come around when it suits you—when we can cater to your fucking needs."

He put a hand up. "You know, I never knew how much you hated me until last night. Now I do, so just let me go." He widened his arms, a heartbroken mess before me.

Damion may think he can't feel a fucking emotion, but he's never been more wrong in his entire life. Maybe my son just isn't in tune with himself. That makes sense. For a long time, before I met Bella, I was numb—couldn't feel a fucking thing—and falling in love changed all that.

Suddenly, I had all these feelings that I couldn't name. I was going out of my fucking mind, and I'd lash out at Bella—the last person in the world who deserved that shit.

Maybe Amelia, or even Maggie, opened him up—woke him up. I know Maggie did that for Sonny, but who did it for Dame?

Maybe that's why everything—all these problems—are happening at once. When he was with Julie, he never acted out or even spoken out of turn.

"Let you go?" I asked. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Your mother knows everything . . . I told her every-fucking-thing. We're scared, okay? We're fucking scared shitless. _Who the fuck are you? What are you doing?_ These are the things we keep asking ourselves." I knew I was going to lose it—tear up—and I couldn't do it here, so I left the table. Also, I thanked God that the music was loud. As the Skip, who I am, I always have to save face. I don't have a choice.

But then I turned back to Damion. "Walk with me. Just you." I could barely look at him.

With Damion I hardly ever lose my temper, not like I can with Sonny. Truth be told, I'm soft in different ways when it comes to each of them. I can converse with Sonny because he's more my equal—a friend. Sadly, the past few months, I have no idea who Damion is to me. Is he an enemy? I know he's my son . . .

When I walked into the office, I didn't go for the desk. Sitting on the couch, I watched Damion trail in after me. Once he locked the door, I racked my brain for something to say. "Do you really think I hate you, or did you shoot off at the mouth to end the conversation?" I raised a brow. "Be real."

"A little bit of both."

I nodded, patting the cushion next to me. "Have a seat."

He plopped down, looking miserable, his gaze unseeing.

"Look at me." When he did, I continued. "I've always thought you were like me—"

"That's Sonny. Him and me are nothing alike." He shook his head.

"No . . . you have a lot of me inside you—things you got from me, dare I say . . . the bad stuff, as if you've inherited my demons." I could barely get the words out. "I need you to come clean—I need you to talk to me. If you can't open up to me, then please. Talk to Mom. No lies . . . just help us out. Help us understand you." I placed my hand on his chest. "She's heartbroken—"

"So, you're only upset because she is. I get it—"

"No." I cut him off. "I love you, Damion. I am your father, and I'd love—fucking love it—if we could be friends. But you don't want that."

"Stop," he said. "All my life . . . all the bullshit, and now I gotta sit through the concerned father bit?"

"It's not a bit," I whispered, wiping my eyes. "You want me to be your friend? 'Cause the way you're going—you need someone to look out for you." I cleared my throat. "You have the ability to be a good person. I know so. Fuck. If I can care, then so can you."

"I have fucked-up morals—my ethics are corrupt. But I'm still a good person." He stared at the ground. "I know what I want. If I see something I want, I go for it. It's a shitty hand to be dealt—first thinking you're in love with your aunt, and then . . ."

"Getting what you want when you want it is for babies, Damion." I made him look at me. "You're a man. You need to take responsibility. You fucking iced Joe . . . You weren't even thinking about the repercussions. He had his button. Did you know that I have to kiss a few people's asses now? Your brother has gone to bat, and you're fucking him over . . . He wants to clip those who think you're getting away with too much shit. I squashed that—said no, but not because of you. The reason why you've been working with me is because I want you to see—see everything, learn the rules, learn what's right and what's wrong. Three people want to see you dead, and you know what? I've whacked fuckers—close friends—for much less than what you did to them. It's not about the money, but . . . because of your trigger-happy finger, I lost three big earners, and you bring nothing to the table. I'm just saying. Money never sleeps and this shit is all about the paper. A whole family died because you wanted what you wanted, and you still don't care."

I massaged my forehead. "Any of this sinking in with you?"

"You would have clipped Joe—"

"And I'm the boss of this family, Dame. Who the fuck are you?" I chuckled. "Honestly. You run around like some punk kid with a chip on his shoulder. I'm not poking fun—I'm just saying."

He had nothing to say.

"Please talk to me . . . I only know a few approaches. I'm begging you—help me understand you."

"I can't . . . they are like demons," he whispered. "I do things . . . but I don't feel bad after. I just—I'm sorry what I did put you in a tight spot—"

"No. Only apologize if you mean it."

"I do." He nodded. "I'm sorry you guys—you and Mom—are fucked because of me. I didn't want to want Alex, just like I don't want to want Maggie . . . but I did and I do, and I'm always fucking up." He shrugged.

"You're human. You're allowed to, but . . . these are huge, calculated mistakes, Dame. Shit you thought out."

"I know—shit I knew was wrong, but I wanted to do it anyway," he said.

"This can't happen again. I mean, as people we have different sides to us. I'm probably more fucked-up than you because I can flip back and forth so quickly now. I'm used to it. You call them roles, 'I'll be whoever-the-fuck today', but they're really moods. I have a horrible temper—shit happens and I just snap. I have the capacity to be a cold-blooded killer, and then I go home to my family, and I'm a husband and a father—a big softy. You've never seen a few sides to me. Maybe you're the same . . . I don't know. All the time, I pull a trigger, and then I go back to a sandwich or some shit. That doesn't bother me. This shit breaks my heart. You think I hate you . . . Christ. I love you, Damion."

I turned to him and grabbed his hand. "I love you more than I could ever explain, and as your father I want to protect you—even if it's from yourself, because I understand a few mind-sets."

"Thanks." His eyes filled with tears, his lip quivering.

"Your mother and I love the fuck out of you kids. Maybe we didn't always have the answers . . . maybe we fucked up?" I shrugged. "But we always tried our best and we always loved—still love—you guys."

"I know you guys did your best. Just somewhere, along the way . . . I still remember it. I've stopped having dreams years ago, and I try not to think about it . . . but . . . I still remember back when Sonny—you know, which bothers me. I love you guys, too, but Sonny—he's my best friend," he cried. "And…I don't know why I'm doing what I'm doing, or did what I did, or want what I want. I told him the truth. It has nothing to do with him, but I still believe what I told him. And if he's going to be a scumbag and ruin that girl's life . . ." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "This isn't because of her." He pointed to his face. "I know what it's like to be defenseless, have someone come after you—Maggie doesn't know any better."

"Who came after you?" I held his chin.

He turned away from me. "I'm saying...the shit with Maggie is..." He stared at the ceiling. "Meanwhile, oh God, _I_ went after her." He palmed his face to cry into his hands. "How can I make others my victims?" he mumbled, and I didn't understand him.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head, staring down.

I didn't have an answer for him, not about the Maggie shit. "When your brother was shot . . . I was scared to death. All my life, being in _this_ life, I've come to accept the fact that each day might be my last—whether it's a bullet or prison. But…you'll understand when you have kids. When you have kids, the love…That's something I can't explain. Maybe Mom can. But that day, I'd never been as scared in my whole life. I don't fear much. Then, when we had to send you guys away . . . each time we had to do that, it was for your protection. Fuck. After Sonny was hit? I was ready to send you guys to Europe—someplace really far, but California was far enough. Everything your mother and I did . . . We were never selfish parents. We never dropped you guys off to go on elaborate vacations. It was life or death. Life or death, and because of my lifestyle…the choices I'd made, all this fucked-up shit could happen. But it was never about us—or me—it was about the safety of my children. I'd die for all three of youse."

"It still stung . . . back then. I knew all this stuff was happening, but I didn't know why. I wish…I still wish you guys would have explained it."

"What would I have said?" I asked. "Back then…was I supposed to saddle you with my secret? Tell you all about the ins and outs of this thing? We told you what we could, and when you were old enough . . . _I_ told you what I could. I've lived my life . . . maybe I wasn't the best man—I know I'm not the greatest father, 'cause I've made a lot of mistakes, but loyalty, honor, and love . . . Those three rules and nothing else. I honor my wife and my word, I'm loyal to those around me, and I love quite a few people nowadays . . . You're one of them, so I'll never stop trying to get closer to you. But you have to help me out. Mom thinks you're bipolar—"

"I'm more of a sociopath," he said.

"No, shit. Me too." I nudged him with my elbow, and then rolled my eyes. "No, seriously. Aro's been telling me that for years. Don't listen to that bullshit. I mean…" I was stuck. "Do you think you're sick? 'Cause you can't tell a doctor whatever's going on in your mind."

He shook his head. "I'm just a freak."

I blew out a breath. "That's not what I asked you."

"I'm fine . . . I'll shape up. I promise, and—I don't know."

I nodded. "Stay away from Alex and Carlisle, okay? And if you give Sonny your word, you better mean it. Otherwise . . ."

"He has my word," he whispered. "Like you have mine. I'll try and work some of this shit out." He pointed to his temple.

"Can we be friends?" I asked. "I don't even want you collecting anymore—you're free to go because . . . it's obviously not working."

"Yeah."

"Good…Can we leave so you can sit and talk with Mom?"

"Yes."

"You'll be okay." I rubbed his back.

"I hope so."

After pulling him in for a hug, I was shocked that he hugged me back and quietly cried into my neck.

There was something else wrong, and I bet he doesn't even know what it is.

_**Thank you for reading.**_

_**And I purposely didn't attach the Italian translations . . .**_

_**Oh, and . . . Next chapter is Thanksgiving! (snickers)**_

_**See you Wednesday!**_


	24. A Rock

**Ste****phenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**I updated today instead of tomorrow. Yay for early updates! **

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Twenty-Four: A Rock**

**Bella POV**

Kylie danced around the kitchen and sang along with the radio. She was happy that Peto was coming to dinner—the happiest I'd ever seen her, and I hoped her mood was contagious. I needed just a little bit of happy today.

The past two days have been a whirlwind. For weeks I'd wanted to talk to Edward about Damion, and I almost wished I'd never opened my mouth—never asked.

I didn't want to know all those things.

I didn't want to think Damion a stranger.

I didn't want to believe that my son was capable of doing such things . . . when he's always been so sweet and kind.

Alas, that is only one side of him. There seem to be many that I wasn't aware of. Edward told me to relax—all of that stuff happened, he did his best to cover Dame's ass, and there's no threat on his life or anything.

Besides all the criminal activity, homicidal behavior, he forced himself on Alex? I'm told nothing happened, but . . .

I didn't want to believe any of it.

Last night, Edward brought Damion home. My son hugged me and cried in my arms, as if he were a little boy again. He kept saying how sorry he was, how he didn't mean for shit to just run downhill the way it has. He doesn't even know what's wrong with him—why he does the things he does.

At the end of the day, he's my son. I love him more than anything, and I forgave him. He didn't do anything to me personally, but Damion . . . Even Edward said that he seemed distraught about me knowing.

Damion actually felt guilty and ashamed.

He said he never wanted me—his mother—to know about that side of him.

Edward said it's best we forget and move on—that we start fresh, and that we'll be open and honest with each other from now on.

My husband has better coping skills than I do.

I still feel uneasy about the whole thing.

My mind still trails back to his misdeeds.

Damion will no longer have any part of Edward's business. He promised to refocus back on school and his relationship with Amelia. He made up with Sonny—gave him his word that he'd never interfere as far as Maggie was concerned, and Carlisle . . .

He hasn't had the chance to speak with his uncle within the past day.

Edward says Carlisle just needs time, and soon . . .

Like always . . .

This will all be water under the bridge. We'll forget about it and maybe think back and laugh about it.

Damion stayed here last night. He's off from school and has no shifts at the hospital until Saturday. Amelia just showed up, and she's not looking too happy either. Of course, Damion has shut down. He's not smiling, frowning, or even talking really.

Amelia was fast to lend a hand in the kitchen, although she was even faster to reach for the wine.

Sonny and Maggie got here much earlier. My eldest tried to get Damion to come out of his room, but to no avail. Sonny's watching TV with Edward in the den. Everyone seems chilled out for the most part, but tensions were still high.

I don't think Damion was lying when he said he wanted to be up front with Amelia. She keeps staring Maggie down, and that was another thing to feel horrible about.

This poor girl—Maggie—it seems like she's causing all this mayhem, but she's not. She's not seeking the attention or trying to cause trouble.

It's other people . . .

That shit reminded me of the early days of Edward's and my marriage—how people would hate and try to throw a wrench in it. Sure, if Maggie wasn't with Sonny, a lot of these problems wouldn't exist, but . . .

She doesn't deserve the way she's being gawked at by Amelia.

"My crotch is itchy," Kylie announced.

I snorted, grabbing the turkey baster. "That wax not sitting right?" I was trying my hardest to act like nothing was wrong, act like my heart wasn't broken.

"It'd been a while…" Kylie trailed off.

"Baby powder," Maggie said, which caught everyone's attention. She hasn't said a word since she showed up. I had her sit and peel potatoes, and she's really slow at it. "It absorbs the sweat. I read it online—stops irritation."

"Gio reads everything online." Kylie twirled. "Oh, Gio . . . my sexy man is coming, and hopefully later . . . I will too!" She jumped up and down.

I left the oven to hold her jaw. "You're too fucking cute."

Maggie was giggling as she wiped her hands and reached for her purse. "I brought them for you."

"Thanks, sista!" Kylie was fast to snatch furry cuffs from her.

"What is this?" I smiled.

"I plan to be Gio's love slave."

"You're just a pro at everything now, huh?" Amelia said to Maggie.

Maggie furrowed her brow. "Um—"

"I heard they called you Virgin Mary or some shit at school." Amelia finished off her glass of wine.

"Ladies—" I started, Maggie looked on the verge of tears.

"How's everything?" Sonny, her knight in denim and a sweater, came in at the right time.

"Coming along," I said.

"Where's the cranberry sauce?" Kylie asked. "I like playing with it."

"Um…the pantry?" I pointed.

"I looked. You forget about it every year. Why?" She scrunched her nose at me.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"We're almost out of butter, too," she said.

"No!" I held my head, going for the fridge. There was only one stick left. "How could I forget?" It's always the small things that I forget. "I need that butter."

"You want me to go to the store?" Sonny asked as he took a seat next to Maggie. "You doing okay?" He's so sweet with her; it makes my heart melt.

Maggie smiled up to him.

"Can you give me a lift to a store?" Amelia asked. "I'm out of cigarettes."

"You smoke?" I stared at her, sure that she didn't.

"As of late . . . when I'm stressed." She smiled at me.

"Yeah, I guess…I just planned to walk up to the avenue, though," Sonny said.

"Works for me." Amelia grabbed her purse.

"I could take a walk," Maggie whispered, nodding.

"We'll be right back." Amelia told her, leaving the kitchen.

My stomach tied in knots, for Maggie, for Amelia, for Sonny. I wished very badly everything could go back to the way it was.

"Mom?" Kylie touched my cheek. "You okay?"

"Yeah, baby." I kissed her forehead, turning back to that train wreck of a scene. "We don't need the cranberry sauce. No one eats it anyway, but I need the butter."

Sonny barely heard me. He was too busy tickling and kissing up on Maggie, and that made me smile.

"_I_ still need some smokes." Amelia poked her head in.

"I bet Dame has a pack." Kylie shook her head. "That boy is always surrounded by a cloud of smoke."

"You're telling me," Amelia sighed. "Well, I can't go to the store by myself."

"Go ask your boyfriend. Youse can get the butter, too." Sonny turned to her but then his shoulders dropped. "I'll just go. Tell me what kind."

Amelia left the kitchen again, and that pissed me off.

"What game is she playing?" I pointed, about to lose my temper when I was trying hard not to.

"What?" Kylie acted none the wiser.

I massaged my forehead.

"I'll just—I'll be back in ten minutes." Sonny left a lingering kiss on Maggie's cheek, and then a loud raspberry in her neck. That melted my heart again. "Do you need anything?"

Maggie shook her head no.

"You can come, too . . . if you want." He bit her chin. "God, I love you."

"I'll be fine here. I love you, too," she said, gulping and looking back to the potatoes.

I sighed while Sonny left, and then I went back to stirring the gravy.

At the same time the door clicked closed, I heard Maggie's chair scraping against the tiles, and then she was gone.

"Oh . . ." Kylie wore a pout. "What is Amelia's damage?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

"Ugh . . . I'll go talk to her. Maggie has nothing to worry about, and could Amelia be any more obvious?" Kylie threw her hands up. "Fucking drama, man."

I held her back, knowing that if she left me, I'd be left with my thoughts. "Give Maggie a minute."

"She's sensitive…she hates that, you know, all this stuff is going on. Maggie and Sonny weren't even going to come today. They said something about ordering Chinese, but then I told them Dame and Amelia wouldn't be here . . ." She puffed her cheeks. "I can't wait until Gio gets here." She turned back to me. "Uncle Aro rented us a hotel room."

"Uncle Aro?" I asked, raising a brow. "What a hypocrite," I laughed for the first time all day. "Wait 'til your father—"

"No!" Kylie jumped at me. "Daddy can't know." She left me when her phone rang. "It's him." Kylie's ponytail bounced, going into the dining room for privacy.

We still had a few hours until dinner would be served, and I hoped they went by quickly. Since my husband was being awfully quiet, I went to seek him out—then I'd talk to Damion, tell him to get his ass out and socialize—keep Amelia occupied—and then I'd make sure Maggie was okay.

After drying my hands on a dishrag, I started down the hall, only to stop—put my back against it. I love my gossip—all my info—but I hardly ever eavesdrop.

Damion had Maggie cornered in the hall, and that's when I realized . . .

Sonny and Maggie are getting all this heat, when it's the other two starting trouble.

"I just—I wanted to apologize," Damion whispered.

I relaxed a bit when I heard him say that.

"I'm going through some shit . . . stuff I can't explain, but…I want you to know," he laughed, "I don't know."

"Can you move, step back a little, please?" Maggie asked.

"Sorry." I bet Dame backed off. "I didn't think you'd listen to me otherwise. Why are you crying?"

"No reason." Maggie sounded as small as she was, but I was glad she didn't feel the need to inform him that Amelia and Sonny had gone to the store.

"You're gorgeous…and a really great person. No fucker—least of all my brother—deserves your tears. Stop crying." Taking a peek, I saw him wipe her eyes.

She swatted his hands away.

"Sorry."

"You're always sorry."

Damion nodded. "I—"

"Sonny didn't do anything...I'm just being silly." She gave him a small grin in return. "I'm fine, see?" She pointed to her face.

"Thanks for this." Now his finger trailed along her cheek. "That smile."

Maggie backed up so far she hit her head against the wall. "Stop touching me."

Dame put his palms out.

"Crap," she giggled, rubbing her hair.

"I'm sorry." Dame reached for her head but took his hands back. "Can we be friends? I promise to stop being—what'd you call me?" He sounded a lot better, almost jovial.

"Creepy," Maggie said. "I'm sorry for saying that, too." She broke down in tears again. "I know it's not nice, but you scare me."

"Shhhh. It's okay. Come here." He gathered her into his arms.

"No!" she shouted, fighting her way out of the embrace. "Don't—" Maggie was in hysterics when she turned, running into the bathroom.

At least he let her go, I thought.

Carlisle would have chased me into the bathroom.

The whole scene . . . that was Carlisle and me nearly thirty years ago. It truly feels like ages since my brother-in-law has acted a fool. But seeing that—seeing Damion and Maggie . . . I remembered that scary feeling.

By this time, I was just standing in the hall, no longer hiding my presence. "What was that?" I asked my son. "You gave Sonny your word."

He put his hand in his pocket, holding his lips with the other, and then he shrugged—the picture of nonchalance. "I didn't do anything wrong. I apologized—I don't know why she's…" he jerked a thumb to the bathroom, "so upset."

"What's going on out here?" Edward poked his head out from the den.

I combed my hand through my hair, and I had nothing to say.

"We're just talking," Damion answered his father. "Maybe Amelia and I should take off."

It wasn't a bad idea, I thought, and for that . . .

I felt even worse.

"No way. Just relax," Edward said. "We'll eat soon, and—" He came over to hug Damion into his side, and I felt selfish. In this moment, I needed those arms.

"Just…I'll be in my room until dinner's ready. Thanksgiving is always boring. Tell Amelia she can join me—doesn't have to avoid me."

"What's going on with her?" Edward asked.

Damion shrugged. "She came all this way just to ignore me. I'm content to stare at my walls . . ." He walked, lightly trailing his nails along the bathroom door before disappearing into his room.

"What's up with you?" my husband whispered.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I shook my head. "Who is that?"

"What?" Edward had no idea.

"I don't know him," I cried. "I don't—"

"It'll be okay." He hugged me.

I buried my head into his chest, hoping this dreadful feeling would pass. "Maggie called him creepy . . . for the first time . . . I see it," I sobbed.

"What happened now?"

"Nothing." I sniffled. "I just want this day to be over with. I have a headache."

"Shhh." He planted his lips to my hair, swayed us a bit. "Sonny's here. He knows his way around the kitchen. Let him and the girls take over." Edward turned, and we saw Maggie leave the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," she said.

I grabbed her hand. "Don't be. You did nothing wrong."

"Is, um, Sonny back yet?"

"Not yet—" As I said that, we heard the front door. Maggie ran and I felt a little better.

"Who's here?" Edward asked. "Oh…" We saw Amelia and Sonny walk into the kitchen. Our son stopped to gather Maggie into his arms, a look of concern etched on his face. He brought her over to the settee to talk. "They're cute together."

"Yeah," I sighed, hoping Maggie lied to Sonny. And I couldn't believe I was hoping she'd lie. I just didn't want things to get worse.

When I saw Maggie say, "she hates me" in reference to Amelia, I felt a little better.

"You should go lie down." Edward held my biceps, gazing down to me. "I'll talk to them…" He gestured. "I'm worried about you."

A nap, relaxing and calming down, sounded like a good idea. "I'll be…" I pointed.

Edward kissed me softly. "It'll be okay—all of it. Over time, you'll see."

"Yeah." As I walked down the hall, I stared at Damion's door, but I didn't knock or go in.

I still had nothing to say to him.

When I entered my bedroom, I curled up into my blankets, making sure to cover my head—hoping I'd wake up and find the last two days a nightmare.

**/=/=/=/=/**

Sadly, things never work out that way—waking up and everything is magically back to normal. We had to wait this out, wade in the water, weather the storm.

When I woke up, I still had a bit of a headache, but it was close to three in the afternoon. Smelling the cooked food placed a smile on my face, and I actually felt hungry.

To my surprise, Edward was holding me—had his head buried in my neck. "Hey." I rasped.

"Hey you." He sounded sleepy, and when he leaned over to kiss me . . .

I cried into his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"He's still Damion, still our son."

"I know." I bit my quivering lip. "I just—I don't know. I still love the fuck out of him—that hasn't changed." I sat up to wipe my eyes. "I just don't know what happened. You say he hasn't been the same in years—he hasn't been the way I see him, the way I knew him."

Edward combed my hair with his fingers. "He changed . . . I can't pinpoint exactly when, but…yeah, I remember. He went from being this loveable little boy, and then…he became detached." He shrugged. "You did nothing wrong. I'm thinking this is my fault."

"Stop." Playing the blame game wasn't going to get us anywhere.

"But he's still Dame." Edward kissed my cheek. "You have to remember that. He feels horrible—knows you feel this way."

I cried into my hands. "And I hate that he knows . . . And I hate that I feel this way."

"It'll be all right." He massaged my shoulder.

I giggled through my tears. "I don't know whether to hug him, steal him away, or beat the hell out of him."

"You can do all three." He poked my side. "That'll be interesting."

"Things will be okay."

"They will," he promised. "After all the shit we've lived through . . . I hate to say this, but toughen up." He softly punched my shoulder. "Dame's a lot like me, only…I don't know. You accept me—"

"It's different when it's your child—"

"And Sonny's been working with me for years. He's done some shit, too." He chuckled without humor. "Sonny's—damn—Sonny's a lot more cut-throat in ways...maybe not the same ways as Dame, but Sonny does what he's told—gets shit done, too. You know?"

"But Sonny would never betray his family—play these games. When it comes to Alex, I feel betrayed, while I also want to apologize . . . And then, something tells me we don't know that whole story. Something's missing. Or maybe that's wishful thinking since I'd rather make Alex the bad guy, like she seduced him, and our son's a cooz-hound—"

"That _was_ all Dame," Edward whispered. "Listen to you—cooz-hound." He kissed my temple.

"Yeah…" My shoulders slumped. "Then he iced Joe, he iced Joe. You would have done it sooner or later. It's not that part of him that shocks me this much." I pulled the blanket up around my neck. "Is he going to be just like your brother where women are concerned? Will he always be after whatever Sonny has? I mean, we lived through that. It was exhausting back then, and…I never saw that in Damion."

"You can't be angry with Alex—"

"I feel terrible. I don't know what to say to her; meanwhile, she's my best friend. I'm not mad at her." I shook my head, my stomach feeling queasy. "My eyes are open now, and I see…"

"Doesn't that just fucking suck?" Edward was trying to be lighthearted. "I felt the same way you did—heartbroken, ripped apart. But . . . he's still Dame. When I figure it out, I'll elaborate. We can't shun him or—"

"I'd never do that," I said.

"I know you wouldn't, but we can't excuse his behavior either. We're between a rock and a hard place."

"This sucks."

"It does." Edward pulled me into his side. "I keep trying to figure out what I did wrong. He says—he brought up that shit about Sonny getting shot, how it scarred him in a way. I can understand, but . . . If he loves Sonny so much, if that shit bothered him as much as he says it does, why's he always so quick to fuck the man over?" He looked to the ceiling. "It makes no sense."

"He's always been jealous of Sonny," I whispered. "Maybe he was never vocal about it before. I don't know."

Edward massaged the back of my neck. "You ready to go out there?"

I moaned, groaned, and held my face. "The worst part about today…? Every last one of them out there is miserable—"

"Except Kylie."

"Except Kylie," I agreed, "which is an odd turn of events. She's usually the whiny, moody one at holidays."

He sucked his teeth. "She's always happy. Maybe she misses Gio now, but…yeah. Sonny and Maggie aren't miserable either—I don't think. Well," he sighed. "Let's just eat…they'll be gone before we know it. I think Dame's staying until tomorrow. Maybe we can sit him down again, just to get him to talk to us."

I nodded, agreeing.

"And tonight, we'll soak in the Jacuzzi, drink ourselves silly, eat leftovers, and I'll give you a full body massage . . . with my cock," he laughed. "No, I'll really massage you." He kissed my cheek.

I cracked a smile, only for my face to crumble again. "If it was anyone else . . . I mean, I wouldn't think the things that happened were that bad. But it's Damion . . . it's all a shock."

"Relax, Bebella." He came around, ducking his head to peck my lips. "I'm glad we found out—that we can help him in some way now."

"True." I mused. "Let's get out there." Truth be told, the only good thing about today was that the attendees of this feast were my immediate family; I was wearing sweats.

"Hey . . . where you think you're going?" Edward yanked me back into his arms to hug the shit out of me—one of those death-grip embraces that warm my heart. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Hey…" He stopped me from leaving the bed again. "Can you be quiet?"

My shoulders dropped; he's in the mood to fuck. "Edward—"

"Shhh." He placed a finger over my lips. "Just give me five minutes. If in five minutes, you don't want the cock, we can go."

I grinned back to him. "Edward—"

"What…?" He shrugged. "Lemme take your mind off things."

Getting onto my knees, I crawled over to him. "You—you're just—"

"Shut up." He placed his lips to mine, kissing me deeply, hungrily—the kind of kiss that makes me forget everything, my fucking name included. "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout." He hopped up, tossing his t-shirt across the room.

I giggled, watching him get excited. "We shouldn't—"

"We should." He nodded, ridding me of my pants.

The force with which he tore them from me tossed my body back. "Easy, baby." I held his cheek.

Edward grabbed both of my hands, holding them above my head. "What…?" he asked softly, nuzzling his nose to mine, searching my eyes. "We'll get through this like we do everything else . . . together." He sucked my lip back into his mouth with a groan. When he started to kiss down my neck, I closed my eyes, holding his head close—wanting and needing to be just as into this as he was.

His mouth trailed down my body, placing the gentlest of kisses along my stomach. My chest was heaving, my hips were squirming, and suddenly I was an impatient mess.

"Edward…" I hissed, rocking below him, grasping a fistfull of his hair.

He skimmed his nose along the crotch of my thong as butterflies invaded my stomach. "Just relax." He leaned away to take my panties off. "This is about you—I just want a taste." He got comfortable between my legs again.

I sat up—licking my lips, panting—to watch him. "Just fuck me." My fingers wove into his hair again, while his finger was sliding up and down my slit.

"I plan to blow your mind." He blew a cold breath onto my heated pussy. It caused me to gasp and widen my legs, his lips nestling into me with a throaty moan.

"Oh." My body quivered, my legs shaking as he licked my clit; his fingers entered me and continued to fuck me. "Shit." My eyes rolled back, my hips moving in time with his mouth and hand. "That's it…"

Edward groaned into me once more, the vibrations doing wonders, adding to the all-around pleasure he was giving me.

Nearly convulsing, about to scream, I held a pillow tightly to my face, breathing deeply and grasping my orgasm as it came to a head. Wave after wave, I rode out the euphoric feeling.

"Shit." I panted, a slow chuckle escaping me. He did it. He managed to get me out of my head for five minutes, making me feel a little better, lighter in some way.

Edward hummed, coming to lay by my side. "That was beautiful." He kissed my cheek. "This face."

My head was spinning; kind of dizzy as I hoped he'd fuck me now. But he just gathered me into his arms, sighing into my neck. "You're done?"

"I did that for you—get your mind right. We've been hiding in here for too long."

I hated that he was correct. "Thanks."

He squeezed my hip. "Later, you won't know what hit you."

I grinned, turning and catching his lips with my own.

"And thank_ you_ for the appetizer." He slapped my ass, and then scooted off the bed, going for his discarded shirt.

I leaned up on my elbows, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. "You're serious?" My legs were still wide and wobbly, waiting, anticipating. There was no way I thought he was for real about not fucking.

_I needed the dick. _

He turned to widen his arms. "I'll fucking—I'll dog you out right now. Lemme know, yo..." He adjusted his cock.

Puffing my cheeks, my eyes falling on the clock, I saw it was already close to four. "The turkey's probably done." In fact, unless Sonny or someone forgot all about it, the bird was ready.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

When we were put back together, we left the room hand in hand, smiles on both our faces. It's true; some fucked-up shit was going down, but we'd get through it. And then when it's over, I know I'll look back and wonder why I was this upset.

Maybe not . . .

Thinking Dame a stranger will never sit right with me.

Comparing Damion to Carlisle will never sit right with me either.

Knowing my kid harmed, scared Alex, nearly forced himself . . . that just made my stomach queasy.

"Let's just get through dinner," Edward whispered as we walked into the dining room.

To our surprise, only Kylie and Gio were seated; meanwhile, the food was served. It was literally all out: the lasagna, the mashed potatoes, the turkey, the stuffing, the salad; however, I usually pace it—bring certain courses out at different times. But I barely prepared this feast. It wasn't my call.

"Look at all this." I smiled. "Did you do this?"

Kylie was munching on a piece of bread. "Nope. Sonny did."

I exchanged a look with my husband as we took our seats.

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

"Dame took Amelia out back to talk . . . Sonny is . . . I don't know. He's still here. I just can't tell you where." Kylie shrugged. "Can we just eat?" She seemed just as eager to get this meal over with.

I slumped my shoulders, not giving a shit anymore.

"Turkey's carved . . . shit looks good. Let's dig in." Edward squeezed my hand. "The rest will join—eat when they want. I'm not letting this shit get cold." He reached for the string beans.

"Wait a minute!" Kylie shouted, taking Gio's hand into hers and closing her eyes. "Dear Lord, I wish Maggie was here to talk to you. You'd probably hear her better—" That little stinker opened one eye to look at Edward, who in turn, smiled brightly at me. "But I'd just like to take a moment to thank you—most of all for my loving, understanding, and cool-as-fuck parents. Sorry."

With one peek at Edward, I was trying not to laugh.

"Bless this food . . . um, and I hope my dad knows how much I missed Gio . . . how much we'd like to go to the movies later, how much we'd like to try to have a date night again, how well Gio can drive . . . I hope my father has faith in me—"

"Kylie," Edward whispered.

She opened her eyes to glance at her smiling boyfriend, and then she sighed. "Yeah?"

My husband pursed his lips, nodding his head. "Be home by midnight."

"Yes!" Kylie fist pumped the air. "Wait…Do I have to take Vito?"

"Actually," Gio spoke up. "Since I haven't seen AJ in a minute, he's thinking of coming with us, Katie, too. Um…yeah." He put his head down.

Edward sighed, and I knew he was worried about her safety, but those hotel plans won't fly if Vito is tailing them. "Your brother has some ass-kissing to do . . . Maybe Amelia and Damion—"

"Oh…" Kylie frowned.

"Hey," Gio whispered, but we still heard him. "As long as I get to hang out—no matter who's around, baby." He palmed her cheek.

Kylie was trying not to cry, nose pink, eyes glassy.

"Edward." I kicked him under the table.

He looked up from the plate of mashed potatoes. "What?"

"Just…" I tilted my head to the young couple sharing our table.

Edward served himself, and then put the bowl down. "Youse won't leave Bay Ridge?"

"No!" Kylie shouted. "We'll be in Bay Ridge."

"Okay…" My husband didn't look very calm anymore.

"Have faith. They'll be okay." I rubbed up his bicep.

"You know . . ." Edward paused, leaning back. "If you two—if you two planned on hitting up a hotel, I mean. Knowing you two would be safe and tucked behind locked doors. I could tell Vito it was cool with me, he'd still drive youse."

Kylie and Gio shared a look.

"Aro told you?" I whispered.

Edward rolled his eyes. "This kills me, but in comparison to anything else…? And I don't want them doing it here; however, I'd bet money Sonny has Maggie in his room . . . Why can't baby girl get a nut?"

I giggled.

"Oh my God!" Kylie jumped out of her chair, throwing herself at Edward. "I love you!" She peppered his face with kisses.

I melted as I watched them. Maybe since they've been spending more time together, they finally understand each other a bit more.

"I promise—we'll use condoms, and I won't get knocked up!"

Edward slammed his fist down onto the table.

"Too much?" Kylie smiled, and then went back to her kissing assault.

"All right…lemme eat," Edward was laughing again. "My dinner gets cold I'm not gonna be happy."

"Thank you, sir. I promise to look after her—she'll be safe." Gio actually looked like he was about to shit his pants.

"It's your ass." Was all Edward replied with. "After dessert, I'll call Vito and Sal—they'll drive you guys."

"Thank you!" Now Kylie threw herself at Gio. "Miracles_ do_ happen!"

I snorted a laugh.

"Hey." Edward tapped my plate with his fork. "Eat."

"Right," I sighed, wondering where to start.

Edward decided on lasagna, plopping a serving onto my dish.

"Thanks," I said.

He winked and went back to eating.

I slouched in my chair, not really wanting to start without Sonny and Damion. "I'll be back." As soon as I rose from the table, Sonny and Maggie were entering the dining room. They were unkempt and freshly fucked, but I didn't say a word.

"Bet you worked up quite the appetite there, tiger!" Kylie patted Maggie's back, and you can always count on my daughter to say something.

Sonny wore a silly little smirk, pulling his lady's chair out.

"This all looks delicious," I said, and my voice was filled with emotion. Although the picture wasn't perfect just yet, I felt sad and elated at once. Again, some bad things happened, but we still had this—our family, this day, and hopefully a lot more holidays, that we'd spend together.

"You started it—made it easy to finish." Sonny was fast to serve Maggie, doing as his father taught him. But I never truly taught Sonny how to cook. He just watched over the years and picked it up. He's also been living on his own for a while now. "Want me to grab Dame?"

I shook my head. "I got it."

When I approached the back door, I saw Damion and Amelia sitting on the lounge chairs. My son looked as though he was pleading his case as Amelia just sat there crying. Feeling a knot in my stomach, I went outside—not to eavesdrop or anything.

"Hey," I announced.

They both straightened out, and then Dame reached to wipe Amelia's eyes for her. "We were just…talking."

"I know…" I nodded. "Dinner's ready . . . I hate to disturb you guys." As I rubbed my belly, I nervously munched on my lip.

"We'll be okay," Damion whispered, touching her cheek.

She shook her head, refusing to look at him.

"Let's go in." He grabbed her hand.

She pulled back. "I'll…in a minute." She reached for a cigarette and quickly lit it.

Damion blew out a breath, massaging the back of his neck. He gave me a small smile and a kiss on my cheek as he passed me. I turned to watch him go before I looked back to Amelia.

"Can I bum one of those?"

She blew the smoke out, handing me the pack and a lighter.

I took Dame's previous seat, and then lit the Marlboro Light. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, still crying her eyes out. "I don't know why I try . . ." She sniffled.

"I'm going to guess you love him," I said.

"Yup," she sighed. "I do . . . I thought it was Maggie. I had a feeling in my gut, you know? I even spoke to Santino about it, but he had no info—"

I furrowed my brow since I thought she knew all about Dame's feelings for Maggie. "What?"

"Tensions are high . . . the way his uncle . . . I'm sure you know what happened." She turned to face me. "Then the way he looks at Maggie . . . I just—I thought—And I probably put ideas in Santino's head. But she's a good girl, a nice girl." She wiped her eyes.

"She is," I agreed.

"I knew about…the stuff with his aunt—Alex?" She swallowed, raising a brow. "He told me all about it."

"It's awesome that you two are so open and honest with each other."

"I thought so . . . but he shut down. He won't tell me what else is going on—and I'm afraid he's—he's in too deep with whatever." She put the cigarette out in the tray.

"He's not," I whispered. "He's fine. He's just going through some stuff because…well, somehow Carlisle found out about—"

"Damion told him." She started crying again. "Just—he just—he hardly speaks, and then he blurts that shit out like it's gravy. I don't understand him. He made a mistake; your husband took care of it. I don't know why he couldn't let it go. Does he still have feelings for Alex? I don't know." She shook her head. "He says he loves me—"

"He does."

"I wanna be there for him, but he won't let me," she whispered, bringing her bent knees up to her chest. "Bella, I love him."

"I know you do." I leaned over to squeeze her hand.

Amelia covered her face with her hands, mumbling under her breath.

"What?" I asked.

"I just—I—think—I might be pregnant, despite my birth control," she cried, and I felt like I was kicked in the gut for some reason.

"Um." I cleared my throat, rubbing my forehead. "Did—do you guys use other forms . . . of protection?"

She shook her head no. "We're both disease-free."

My eyes landed on her empty wine glass. "If you think you're pregnant, why are you…?" I pointed to it.

"I don't know yet and I won't take a test—I'm afraid to because then I'll have to tell him, and he'll—he'll—he doesn't want babies," she sobbed.

"Shhh." I went over to her chair to gather her into my arms.

"He's under too much stress as it is with whatever's bothering him. He'll—he'll—"

"He's not going to leave you," I said. "Damion loves you, too." I pushed her hair away to see her face. "Have you spoken to your mom?"

"N-no." She hiccupped. "She'll tell my father, and then I'd have to have this baby. I mean, I want babies, but Damion…"

I nodded, staring up to the overcast sky. "It's best you don't worry until you have to."

"I'm sorry." She hugged me tighter.

"Don't be sorry," I whispered. "Babies are a blessing. I mean, so you didn't plan it. Big deal. When I was pregnant with Sonny, granted, we'd tried for a while, but I was still scared. Edward and I were married, but nothing is concrete. It's a scary feeling. You'll get through it, though. I'm here, Edward is here, Elena, your dad—you have so many people who love you . . . Damion will be there for you, too. Trust me. But you have to talk to him." Briefly, I wondered if maybe finding out Amelia was pregnant would mature him a bit, make him realize that he's not invincible—he'll wise up, make better choices. This baby might be a true blessing in disguise. "But there's no use of worrying about a thing until you know."

"I don't know—I—"

"If you _are_ pregnant and choose_ not_ to have this baby, that'd be _your_ decision—one only _you_ can make." I kissed her cheek. "But you don't know yet."

She wiped her eyes. "I just—I didn't think."

"We never do." I continued to rub her back. "After dinner, after everyone leaves the table, I mean—I'll sit with you while you tell him."

She sniffled. "No. He'll be upset we're flashing our business."

"Right." I knew that to be true as well. "I don't know if you know this, but I'm great at keeping secrets as is my husband . . . I can go, or send Edward, to the drug store—get you a home pregnancy test." I really just wanted to know—have the solid evidence in front of me.

"I'll wait," she sighed. "When I'm home tomorrow…I'll just—" She broke down in tears again. "All of this—it's all that bitch's fault!"

"Whoa." I leaned back, as that had come out of nowhere. "Amelia, Maggie didn't—"

"Not her. All that stuff with Alex . . . Any first year psych major can figure that shit out."

I nodded. "As I recall, Alex really didn't do anything wrong."

"Not her," she whispered.

I grasped her chin, turning it up to face me. "Amelia, I have no idea what you're trying to get at. If you have something you'd like to tell me…" I waited.

She searched my eyes, gulping loudly. "Um…"

"Please, tell me." I palmed her cheeks. "I'm trying to make heads or tails of Damion's behavior, too. If you can shed any light…" Now I was pleading with her.

She shook her head, quiet tears streaming down her cheeks.

I hadn't let go of her chin. "Amelia—"

"I promised I wouldn't."

"Tell me." Feeling agitation rise to my chest, I let go of her face and scooted away. "Amelia—"

"When he was little, when-when he was, um, like thirteen, um—" She turned her head and vomited, retched from right where she sat.

"Shit." I rushed over to grab her hair as my head whipped every which way, hoping no one saw. If my family decided to come out, I might never get any answers. "Breathe through your nose."

She coughed, holding her mouth, and I relaxed beside her—waiting for her cue, waiting to see if she'd run inside or continue our conversation. I felt bad not giving her leave or ushering her to a bathroom. "What happened to my son?" I cried. "Why is he like this?" I turned up to sky again, hoping the answers would suddenly come.

"Lauren." Amelia rasped, and then spit into the grass.

"Lauren…?" My stomach was in knots, too. "What, um—"

"When he was little . . . they were somewhere in a hotel, and…she started touching him, was persistent, and they-they had sex."

"What?" I shouted, rising from the chair.

"Shhh—no, don't, um—oh God!" Amelia fussed over me now. "Bella, please—"

I gnashed my teeth together or else I would be dry heaving my damn self. "Tell me." My foot tapped as I tried to hide my anger. "What did Lauren do to my son?"

"She, um, she was delusional. He told me the story, and I believe him." She trailed her hand through her hair, pushing it back. "They had sex—"

"You've said that." I snapped.

"Right…he said—Lauren called him Skip when she came, and, um—that's basically why she went for him, because he looked like his father. And Damion...he blames his dad for what happened. He hates his father for it."

I fisted my own hair, turning in a circle.

"I mean, having sex so young…? That's molestation, pedophilia…From a young age, he had this idea of what sex, being with a woman would be like. It makes sense. Once he and his ex broke up, he sought Alex—wanted her attention, the older woman thing again. He wouldn't take no for an answer just like Lauren didn't. You'd be surprised how stupid shit from our childhood can haunt us." She rambled, and I tried to absorb every word she said. She sounded as if she knew what she was talking about. "Being so shy around women, yet always seeking their approval . . . He shows clear signs of being abused, no matter how brief their encounter was."

"Ugh—" I clamped my hand over my mouth, but then I was keeled over—heaving into the grass, although nothing came up from my stomach.

"I'm sorry." She rubbed my back, holding my hair away from my face. "I thought you knew—"

"I didn't." I sniffled, slowly standing straight as tears marred my vision, choking on my own snot. "How do you know all this? How do you know about—"

"I'm double majoring in bio and psych," she whispered. "At first, I couldn't make it out—his moods, but little by little I did."

"Is he bipolar?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. It's no chemical imbalance that makes him this way."

I put my hand up to stop her. "You're not making this up."

"No…I'm sorry, but you can't—you can't make a scene or—I'll lose his trust, and I can't lose his trust." She was sobbing again.

"God..." I wiped my face, my lip quivering.

"Did you hear that?" She stared at the back door. "What was that?" Amelia asked, and we heard a crash, and then some shouting.

It came from the house.

"I don't—" I had no idea what was going on inside, but I didn't want to go in.

When we heard more loud voices, a scream, and more clanking sounds, Amelia ran into the house.

I stood there, staring at my home, and yet my knees felt week. Many questions popped into my head. I wondered when this took place. Why I wasn't there to stop her. Why she'd do this to my baby? How she could do this to my baby? I'd trusted her. Maybe I never liked her as a person, but she had kids.

The only instance I could think of—racking my brain—was that time they all went down to the amusement park.

I never wanted them to go.

I remembered that, having that dreadful feeling in my gut.

But they were a group. They were going down for Sonny's and AJ's graduations, and Damion couldn't be left behind.

She hurt him.

She put her hands him, all because she couldn't have his father?

Did she like little boys?

Earlier, my heart was broken, now it felt as though my heart was ripped from my chest.

Suddenly, having no control over myself, I tore through the house—running up to the dining room. When I got there, my family stood around, the dinner table was flipped over, food was everywhere. Kylie was crying, along with Maggie and Amelia.

"Look at me, Dame." Amelia touched Damion's face.

I stared at my son. His chest was heaving, his gaze was unseeing, and he had a bloodied lip and nose while Sonny held him back. He squirmed in his brother's arms.

Tearing my eyes from him, I saw Anthony being held back by Edward and Gio on the opposite side of the room.

"_My_ mother?" Anthony pointed to himself. "You put your hands on my fucking mother?"

"Cut it out." Edward yoked him, shook him, trying to get our nephew to calm down.

"Fuck being my cousin—you were my best friend. I trusted you!" Anthony shouted.

Damion just stood there staring at him, and then I was a flurry of motion once again. "Damion, baby," I cried, holding his cheeks in my hands. "Look at me."

He crinkled his brows, calming down some. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head rapidly, choking back a sob.

"Mom?" Sonny let go of Dame to place his hands on my shoulders. "I'll clean this up . . . Maggie, go get paper towels or something. Ky, get the trash bin."

"Damion." I trailed my hand down the side of his face. "My baby, my baby boy…" I wailed, feeling like the worst mother in the world. I _was_ the worst mother.

I'd failed to protect him.

I'd failed at everything.

"Mom…" Damion caught me before my knees gave out. "I'll clean, too. Relax. I'm fine. Ant doesn't even hit that hard."

"No." I clawed at him, and he hugged me tightly.

"Bella…come here." Edward tried to take me from Dame's grasp, but I wouldn't let go. "Sonny, make sure Ant leaves," he whispered, grabbing for me again.

"No!" I shouted, burying my head in Damion's neck.

"Mom, I'm sorry this shit ruined dinner." He tightened his hold. "I'm okay."

"You're not," I whimpered. "I'm so sorry. I'm so-fucking-sorry!"

"Shhhh." His tone was soft. "You did nothing—nothing, Mom."

I shook my head. "She-she-she hurt you."

"Who?" He seemed confused. "Mom—"

"Molested you. Why didn't you tell me?" I cried.

Damion's face went blank and he let me go, scooting as far away from me as possible.

"Damion—" I reached for him. "Why—"

He got to his feet. "You told her?" He rounded on Amelia.

"No!" I shouted.

Damion laughed. "Molested?" He acted as though that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "You can't rape the willing—"

"You were a little boy…" I sniffled, trying to breathe right.

And I never said the word rape.

All of which probably means . . . deep down, he believes he _was_ raped, and that . . .

"Damion—" I could hardly breathe now and clawed at my neck.

"Bella, what—" Edward's face told me he had no idea what was going on as his head whipped from Damion to me. Sonny had pulled Anthony out of the house. Kylie, Gio, and Maggie were nowhere to be found, and I was grateful for that.

Amelia reached for Damion. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck you!" He spat in her face. "Get away from me." He nudged her back.

"Don't—" I started as he backed away toward the door. "Damion, you were thirteen—"

"There's no such thing as molesting a teenage boy." He chuckled, his mood light again. "Mom, don't believe her."

"Don't be embarrassed." My voice was soft. "Come here—"

He shook his head. "I _fucked_ her. I wasn't molested."

"What is going on?" Edward shouted.

"Damion, please…" Amelia held onto his arms.

"Fuck this." He threw his hands up. "This whole family . . . fuck youse all."

"Hey!" Edward stomped away in his direction, and I pulled him back.

"Just…" I didn't know what to do, and then I ran for Damion—catching him right before his foot left the door. "Talk to me, please," I begged.

"You did enough talking with Amelia. She's got all the answers." He snorted.

"Damion—"

He pushed me away, and then turned from me to speedily go down the walkway.

"Damion, I'm sorry!" I ran to him, fisting the back of his shirt.

"Get off me!"

"No!" I jumped, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I didn't protect you. I'm sorry. Baby, you should have told me."

Damion let out a whimper, placing one hand over his eyes.

"Dame-y, talk to me now." I left his back, going around to his front, staring up at him. "Please…it's not your fault. It's mine—I just—"

"No!" he shouted, backing away again. "Just stay away from me. Everyone—just stay away."

"Damion, please—" I stumbled back when he pushed me.

"What's going on?" Sonny ran back from the curb. "Bro, you okay?" He touched Damion's arm.

"I don't know what's going on, but all of you come inside!" Edward hollered from the door.

"I'm not doing this," Damion said before his face crumbled.

"Baby, please, talk to me. Tell me what happened," I cried. "I'm so—" My hand went to his cheek.

Damion shook his head, his gaze flashing to mine, and it was empty—sent chills down my spine. He'd stopped crying, his eyes almost black they were so dark.

"Damion—"

"Fuck this. I'm out—tell that cunt to stay away from me! You hear me, Amelia!? Stay the fuck away from me!" He boomed at the house, practically running away from it.

I went to run to him again, but Sonny held me back. "Let him go," he said. "He needs to cool down." Sonny hugged me close.

"What happened?" Edward caught up to us. "What—" He was on the verge of tears himself. "Someone start talking."

"Shhh." Sonny kissed my hair. "It's okay."

I shook my head, leaving his embrace.

"Bella, baby, talk to me." Edward's lip quivered.

I threw myself into his arms, hugging him the tightest I could. "I'm going to kill her."

"Who?" Sonny asked.

I shut my mouth.

Edward groaned in frustration. "Can one of you please—"

I pushed my hair back, gaining some composure. "Get your keys." I looked to Sonny. "Find Dame before he does something stupid."

"Um…" He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Leave Amelia here . . . take Maggie with you." I started crying all over again, having an all new feeling in my heart, a whole new epiphany in my brain. If I had to make comparisons, if I had to take a wild guess, Maggie was Damion ten years ago—the innocence, the soft-spokeness, the sunny and bright outlook on life, the silly sense of humor. Maggie's like a ray of sunshine, and my son's had nothing but dark skies for years. No wonder Damion was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

In this moment, I highly doubted it was even a physical thing. "She's—she might—her presence might calm him."

Sonny had his eyes clamped shut as he nodded. "Of course . . . where would he go, though? Ant's not talking to him. He's not welcome at Eclipse...He knows we'd go to the dorms."

"I'll, I'll text Momo. If Dame comes to the door . . . they'll let him in and call me." Edward dug his cell from his pocket. "Can someone tell me what's going on?"

I held my heart, hoping to keep it in place, and then my head whipped to the front door.

"I asked you not to," Amelia cried.

"I'm sorry." And she'd never know how apologetic I really was.

"I trusted you—"

"Amelia…" I slumped my shoulders in defeat, letting out a gust of air.

"Someone start talking!" Edward shouted.

"You might as well tell everyone!" Amelia yelled at me. "Saying I can trust you—you can keep a secret…You can't keep your mouth shut!

"Watch yourself, little girl." My husband got defensive.

"No…the cat's outta the bag!" Amelia sobbed. "I broke his trust—I—he's never going to—he hates me."

"He doesn't," Sonny whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I don't know what's going on . . . my brother loves you. Okay? We all need to relax." He looked to each one of us.

"Um…" I faced Edward, knowing this whole mess was my fault. "When Dame was a boy…" I bent at my knees, feeling like I couldn't stand again. "He—"

"That bitch, Lauren." Amelia's voice was hate-filled.

"What, um…" Sonny looked between us.

"He was thirteen," I said to Edward. "She fucked him…touched him…"

"She said _your name_ when she came." Amelia raised a brow, staring up to my husband. "Why is that?"

"What?" Edward asked me.

I shrugged…defeated, at a fucking loss and a half. "She abused him—forced herself on him. It makes sense…now. It makes sense now. Amelia explained it." I didn't care if she hated me or not, I grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Thank you for telling me."

She wouldn't look at me.

"He doesn't hate you," I said.

"What?" Edward asked again.

"Six Flags . . ." Sonny trailed off, a knowing look on his face. "That—that—that fucking bitch!" He stomped his foot. "He was a baby! No wonder he's always been weird about sex."

"He has?" Amelia and I asked in unison.

"Um…" Amelia shook her head again. "Actually—"

"No…I don't know what I mean." Sonny started pacing. "I gotta find him." He sprinted back into the house.

"We should—" Edward gestured to the front door.

I placed my arm around Amelia. "Things will be okay. I'll tell him—I'll tell him you didn't tell me."

She wiped her eyes. "I'm the only person he's ever told."

"Well, Lauren knows about it." Saying her name made me want to vomit. "Don't you worry about a fucking thing."

"What should I do?" she asked.

"Call your ride," Edward said. "Tell Pietro to come get you . . . um." He stole me away from Amelia.

As she went upstairs, my husband pulled me downstairs. I stared up to make sure she was okay. Before we disappeared from sight, I saw her pull out her phone, having a seat on the steps.

"Bella—" Edward paced the garage.

I looked to the hooks on the wall, trying to gauge how much time I'd have to swipe a set of keys.

"Start from the beginning. Please. Just start from the beginning."

This time, I held my stomach, anticipation coursing through my veins. "He was thirteen . . . how immature he was—still is." I covered my face with my hands. "Lauren raped him." I could barely get those words out. "She was an adult—she knew better. I trusted her."

"Okay." He pulled me into his arms. "It'll be okay—Christ. Why didn't he say anything?"

"Would you?" I asked him. "Did you see how embarrassed he was?"

Edward didn't reply.

"I want her—I'm going to kill her."

"Hang on—think for second."

I backed away, cool as a cucumber. "I'm fine . . . errant thoughts," I lied, my leg shaking.

Suddenly, Edward let out a growl, turning to punch the wall. "That fucking cunt!"

I nodded, knowing exactly how he felt. "What are we going to do?"

Edward scratched his head. "My mind is just…"

I placed my arms around him, and he sunk down to his knees, hugging my middle.

"Why would she—how could she—" He broke down, and I weaved my fingers into his hair, knowing I'd make this all better soon.

"I don't know." I got down to my knees, too. "I—I was just talking to Amelia and she-she broke some things down for me. It makes sense. His behavior is that of someone who was-was sexually abused?"

"I don't see it." He wiped his face.

"I do." And I did. "We should put our poker faces on and go up . . . make sure Kylie is okay. She's probably scared out of her mind."

"Right." Edward cleared his throat.

Again, we walked upstairs hand in hand. Only this time, Edward's grip threatened to break mine, but that was okay.

A teary-eyed Amelia still occupied the steps as we passed Sonny and Maggie. They were leaving to look for Damion. With_ one_ look from me, they didn't let Amelia know that. Sonny left after kissing my hair and promising things would get better. Maggie, who was none the wiser like Kylie, gave me a tight hug, saying she was sorry.

When they left, we sought Kylie. She was on her hands and knees, picking up food from the floor, tears freely flowing from her eyes as Peto helped and tried to soothe her.

"It's okay," he whispered.

"Daddy!" Kylie shouted, attack-hugging her father. "What happened? Anthony runs in crazy. Mom is crying her eyes out—Mommy!" She pulled me into their embrace as well. "What happened to Damion?"

Warily, I briefly glanced at Peto. "Just—something stupid. I overreacted."

"He didn't do anything," she cried. "Anthony started the fight. He yanked Dame right out of his chair."

"I know," I agreed, softly kissing her cheek. "Relax."

Kylie nodded, pushing against Edward's shoulders. "Daddy, I can't breathe."

"Sorry." He let her go, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Peto . . ."

He stood from the floor, looking anxious. "Yeah, Skip?"

"You have your father's car?"

Peto nodded.

"Take Kylie…" He ushered our daughter over to Peto. "You guys have reservations…just…go ahead."

Kylie sniffled. "Mom's upset. I can't leave."

I put on a smile as I walked over to her. "I'm fine. You go—you have a good time. Stay the night...Come home in the morning." And Edward didn't argue that.

Her face fell even more. "Gio will understand if—"

I giggled and leaned into whisper, "I thought you had plans—thought he was horny as fuck, too?"

Kylie grinned. "You're more important—knowing everyone's okay is more important."

"Thank you, but go—have a good time."

"Yeah, just go," Edward said.

"Um…" Amelia approached us. "Pete'll be here in twenty minutes . . . I tried calling Damion. He's—his phone is off."

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head, looking down.

"You should go lie down until Pietro gets here." I touched her cheek.

"I just—I don't know what to do with myself." She shrugged.

"Go rest," I whispered, wanting to have her occupied.

"Are you guys sure?" Kylie asked. "Are you absolutely positive?"

"Kylie…I don't know when I'll be this…generous again. Go." Edward placed his hands on Kylie and Peto's backs, bringing them to the front door. "Get outta here, you crazy kids." He faked enthusiasm.

Once they were out the door, he slammed it closed only to groan. "What do we do?"

My eyes landed on the mess on the floor.

"Fuck it…I'll pick up where they left off." Edward started to clean up.

"I'm gonna set Amelia up in Dame's bed—"

"I'm okay," she told me.

I grinned, walking her down the hall. "You owe me nothing, but pretend. Okay?" I kept my tone hushed.

She gave me brief nod as we got to Dame's door.

"Whenever Pietro gets here, you go. I promise—I swear on my life, Amelia—I'll make this up to you." I hugged her tight. "He's just upset, but he doesn't have to know that you told me—"

"He already knows," she cried.

"No…I'll say—I'll lie—say Lauren told me." I nodded, blowing out a breath. "I've never seen my son come to life the way he has with you—these past few months. He loves you so much, and he's not stupid enough to let you go—regardless of if you told me, which was the right thing to do, or if…" I placed my hand on her stomach. "You guys'll be okay."

She nodded.

"Just go in…when Pietro comes, you go," I repeated myself. "You'll be all right. I bet Dame calls you when he cools off—he'll apologize." I had no idea if he would.

"Okay." She turned, going for the bed.

I turned, holding my E pendant necklace in my hand. Edward still wears his B, and I felt horrible going behind his back like this.

While I peeped Edward, on his knees, dumping spilled food into the trash, I quietly snuck back down to the garage. My minivan was in the carport, while Edward's Escalade blocked the driveway. I snatched his keys before I hit the garage door opener.

Knowing he'd hear that—the door lifting from the ground—I quickly and nervously fumbled to get into the car and start it.

Honestly, it'd been a few months since I'd driven anywhere, although I hadn't been in a car by myself in years. I usually ask my drivers to let me operate the vehicles every once in a while, just to keep myself up on driving in general.

Just as I backed out of the driveway, pulling into the street, I saw Edward run out.

With tears in my eyes, trying desperately to blink them away, I sped for blocks, barely stopping at signs, lucky to make most green lights. It wouldn't be long until Edward was on my tail, and that'd be okay—as long as I got to my destination before he did.

He'd try to stop me.

The tires screeched as I whipped into Lauren's apartment complex. Then I parked crookedly, not giving a fuck before I ran for her door.

"Open up!" I knocked furiously, glad that—besides Peto being at our house—his siblings chose to spend the holiday with their dad, Aro.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"It's me!" I shouted, kicking her door.

"Bella?" I heard her unlocking the door, but she left the chain on, peeking at me through three inches. "This isn't a good time, um—" She was hardly dressed, wearing a silk bathrobe.

I gritted my teeth, my claws coming out as I reached through that small amount of room for her face. Then I screamed when she closed the door on me. "Come out, bitch!" I managed to snatch my hand back, holding it to my chest, although I could hardly feel pain at this time. "You couldn't fuck my husband, so you raped my son?" I stood back a few steps.

"Bella—"

"Open the door!" I shouted. "OR EVERYONE HERE WILL KNOW THAT LAUREN MALLORY IS A PEDOPHILE!" My body stiffened, yelling that with every ounce of energy I had within me.

"What the fuck?" Lauren seemed shocked as she took the chain from the door. "Are you crazy?"

I leapt…

I fucking jumped for her, my hands going directly to her neck. We fell back and into her apartment, as I increased my hold on her skinny fucking neck. "You fucked him—my son!"

She coughed, scratching at my hands.

"How's it feel—how's feel to be helpless?" I felt her trachea or whatever it was below my touch, wanting to move my hands to grab it—take it out of her, kill her instantly, or slowly, whichever way it would work, while she choked on her own blood.

"Stop…" She croaked.

"Did he tell you to stop?" I cried. "Did he—did—was he crying, too?" Then I was being pulled away from her, but I wouldn't let go.

"Let go!" A man hollered, his grip tight on my shoulders.

"Fuck you!" When I moved away from Lauren, being pulled, she came with me—I wasn't releasing her ever. She'd be dead before I did.

"Lady—"

Then I was let go, heard that man grunt. In my periphery, I saw him fall to the ground.

"Bella…" Edward was in my face, and Lauren's face was blue—almost purple. "Baby…" he whispered softly, trailing his hands along my forearm. "Stop."

I shook my head, my tears falling onto that bitch's face. "You fucking nasty bitch!" I spit down at her.

"You don't want to do this," Edward said, and he was so wrong. I did want to do this, very much. "Bella…this isn't who you are."

My teeth were grinding together, and I was barely breathing myself.

"Bella…" He yanked my hands from her, and I fell back.

I collapsed into his arms—weak, too fucking weak, all my energy spent on trying to choke that ho. My body felt limp within his embrace.

Lauren was wheezing, her eyes bloodshot, as she held her neck.

"I've got you," Edward said, but my hand reached for his waist.

With stealth and agility suddenly on my side, I pointed his gun to Lauren's head.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

**Yes, I realize that this is a cliffy. My apologies. I will update on Saturday, so it's not that long a wait. **


	25. A Hard Place

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**Shout out and HUGE thank you to Cara No for - once again - helping me with a chapter. Please remember to thank her!**

**And THANK YOU to everyone who left encouraging words/reviews for chapter 24! I read them all, and they've kept a smile on my face ALL week :-) Love youse!**

**HAPPY FRIDAY! Here's tomorrow's update. I'll see ya again on Wednesday. Now there's a nail-biting chapter. (snort) No, ch26 isn't angsty at all, but I am nervous about it. **

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Twenty-Five: A Hard Place**

**EDWARD POV**

**L**ike a bat out of hell, I shot out of the house as soon as I heard the garage door open. Bella made eye contact with me before she took off, and I'd never seen that look in her eyes before. I recognized it, but I usually only see it when I'm staring at myself in the mirror.

Knowing exactly where she was going, I followed speedily, although she was several blocks ahead of me. Even when I swerved in and out of traffic, trying to peep my whip she was driving, Bella was still on a mission—drove like someone was actually chasing her.

"Fuck!" I hit my steering wheel, stopping short at a red light. Traffic zoomed across the avenue, and there was no way around this. I had to wait for it to turn green. "Pick up!" I shouted at my cell phone, calling Bella; meanwhile, I doubted she even had it with her.

All of this seems like a fucked-up nightmare, one that also brought me to tears again. Lauren, that vile cunt, violated my son? When he was a kid? Bella and Amelia said he was thirteen, but then Sonny said something about Six Flags? Counting and thinking back, Damion was fourteen, not thirteen, but that didn't make a fucking difference. She hurt my kid, and so she'll die for that—pay for it with her life, no matter who her kids are or who she used to be married to.

Now, as I drove, my mind spun with all the different ways to kill her. She was mine, and I felt selfish—that I wanted to take that from Bella. I'm sure the wife wants to shoot her.

My eyes widened, my heart stopped for a brief second when I heard Bella shouting, "…EVERYONE HERE WILL KNOW THAT LAUREN MALLORY IS A PEDOPHILE!"

"Fuck!" I barely stopped the car before I pulled my keys out, running up to Lauren's apartment. Whatever Bella wanted to do was dead in the water now. While on my way, I saw several people poke their heads out of their cribs. I don't do witnesses, and they obviously heard Bella. "Relax…I'm a cop." I flashed someone my PBA shield quickly. That's about the only reason I even carry a wallet.

"That was fast." The old lady had a cordless phone to her ear, and then she went back inside.

After taking another glance around, I saw that no one else was looking, and I pulled out my nine—loading it—approaching Lauren's spot.

"Fuck you!" Bella shouted, and it didn't even sound like her. Upon turning into the apartment, I saw the place a mess—things broken, the coffee table in pieces. Bella was on top of Lauren, choking the fuck out of her, and that dude—the guy Lauren brought to La Bella Italia that time—was in boxers, closing in on my wife.

He yanked on her fucking shoulders. "Lady—"

My body was in motion, before I even had a single thought, I blitzed him with my heat, and he keeled over, knocked the fuck out.

"Bella…" I knelt down to her side, seeing Lauren seconds away from passing out. "Baby, stop…" I kept my voice soft.

She shook her head, tears everywhere. "You fucking nasty bitch!" She increased her hold on Lauren's neck.

"You don't want to do this." I honestly had no idea if she'd feel guilty after. The look in her eyes said no, but I didn't want Bella to carry that burden—even if she truly wouldn't, just the possibility.

"This isn't who you are." She's my wife, and she has the biggest heart, a forgiving heart. Bella's done some things, things she had no control over, things she's had to do. Yet, she's a total mom in every sense of that term—that title. Ever since Bella gave birth, she changed—she's been this loving and understanding person since the day Sonny was born.

She's not like me.

She's not a killer.

"Bella." When her face turned a deep red, her knuckles white from squeezing so hard, I pulled her off of Lauren.

My wife collapsed within my embrace, crying her eyes out, her heart breaking in a way I couldn't describe. I know the feeling, because I was going through the same thing.

We were just as guilty for what happened.

We didn't protect him.

It's the worst feeling in the world, although I couldn't explain it even if I tried.

"I've got you," I soothed, petting her head, hugging her close.

My hold wasn't tight enough. Bella let out a whimper. Before I could stop her, she grabbed my nine from my waist. "You fucking…!" She pointed it to Lauren's head, her voice trailing off, swallowing a sob, and her hand was shaky.

That bitch's eyes went wide as she continued to try and catch her breath.

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't!" Bella screamed.

"Baby…" My tone was hushed in her ear. "You can't do this now." If I wanted, I could grab the nine before Bella did anything stupid. But I thought I'd try and talk her down instead.

"Why not?" she shouted at me, toughening up suddenly, and I got a kick outta that.

"Because…" I turned to see Lauren's boyfriend stirring awake. "You gonna clip him, too?" My nine didn't have a silencer attached at the moment either.

Bella briefly looked down to homeboy, back to me, and then to Lauren. That was when we heard the sirens. I bet one of Lauren's neighbors called five-O, that old lady probably did it—after hearing the shouting and whatnot. Who the fuck knows.

"Someone called the cops," I said.

Bella gulped, bending low to place the gun to Lauren's forehead, right between her fucking eyes.

"Don't," I warned.

The visual alone excited me, and a large part of me wanted to see my wife blow that bitch's head off.

But I knew better . . .

And if Bella did it, there'd be no way _I_ could do it.

"Please." Lauren rasped, pleading on her hands and knees, a position she's used to. She pestered Aro for years, even after their divorce. She wanted bigger tits when she should have gone for surgically-implanted kneepads.

"She's not worth it." I placed my hand on Bella's shoulder.

My wife spit in Lauren's face. "This ain't over—count your fucking blessings!" she yelled.

"Gimme this." I tore my heat out of her hands, placing it back into my waist before I pulled my sweater down and over it. "Let's go."

With one last look at Lauren—whose days were numbered—I yanked Bella into my side, turning for the door.

The cops were already trampling up the stairs, and there was nothing we could do. If we ran, they'd just run after us—only the guilty run—but we were lucky, or so I thought. Will Varner, a cop I have on my payroll, was here with his partner. I don't recall his name, but I was no longer worried.

"Mr. Cullen." Will reached for my hand as he peeked into Lauren's apartment. "Uh…"

"We were just heading out." Regardless of knowing this dude or not, I half-shielded Bella with my body.

"What happened here?" his partner asked.

"Arrest her!" Lauren's voice was hoarse.

"What?" I shouted, taking the two steps to face that cunt again. "Excuse me?"

"We got a complaint about a disturbance," Will said.

I put my hand in his face, indicating he shut his mouth, as I stared Lauren down. "What'd'ju say?" I went to walk back into the apartment, but Bella actually held me back.

Lauren was holding her neck, trying weakly to stand. "I said—arrest her. She—she almost killed me."

"Are you kidding?" I thought she was the dumbest bitch alive. "You're serious?"

"Hold on!" Will waved his hands and arms. "Someone tell me—"

"My wife didn't do shit," I said.

"She tried to kill me!" Lauren cried, throwing herself at the police officer I didn't know.

He grabbed a hold of her arms, gently pushing her back.

"She tried to kill me—choked me." Lauren showed him her neck.

"My husband didn't do anything. It was all me." Bella shrugged.

"Shut up." I spat at her. "This is a misunderstanding—"

The other cop, who was already in the apartment, was helping Lauren's boyfriend stand. "And what's your story?"

Gil—I believe his name was—locked eyes with me, and I silently wished he would, just so I'd have a reason to ice him, too—not that I'd need a reason. "Low—low blood sugar." He held his head. "I, uh, I didn't see—I don't know what happened." He's a smart man.

"She's lying." I pointed to Lauren. "The women had some words—that's it. We were just leaving." I ushered us out of there.

"Hang on." Officer Dick Face came walking back over to us.

"Frank, I know this guy," Will said. "Let's just—"

"Look at her neck." Frank was eating Lauren's tears right up. "Did you do this?" He looked to Bella.

"Don't look at her." I pushed my wife behind my back. "And don't you say a word," I whispered to Bella.

"Her name—her name is Isabella Cullen. She-she assaulted me." Lauren pointed.

"You're insane," I told her. "Or, the dumbest bitch alive. You hear me, Mallory? Just wait." Everything inside of me—everything—was going to pieces. I was ready to explode, my body stiff, yet shaking.

"Was that a threat?" Frank asked me.

I shook my head, gritting my teeth together.

"Edward—look at me," Bella whispered, in my face now.

"You'll have to come down to the station with us while we sort this out, ma'am." Frank reached for his cuffs, and then Bella—who had wide eyes—was pulled away from me.

I didn't move.

I was scared to move.

If I did, Lauren, her boyfriend, and both cops would be dead, and then I'd go to prison for the rest of my life.

Yet, my wife was pretty calm—confused—but calm nonetheless. "Edward, call Carlisle," was the last thing she said to me before she was escorted out of the apartment.

"You'll have to come down, too," Will informed Lauren. "Put shoes on…another squad car will be here to take you shortly."

A low growl escaped my lips, just staring at that cunt.

"Skip…" Will came back over to me. "My partner—" He massaged the back of his neck. "He does everything by the book. Uh—the boys'll get a kick out of it. They'll never let him forget it. Trust . . . arresting your wife."

I had nothing to say to him, and I peeked out into the hall—able to see the street. My wife was placed in the back of a cop car.

"Look, if she has no priors…if this one drops the charges, she'll be out in an hour." I felt Will touch my arm. "Just your luck—the only guy at the Six-Eight you can't buy," he whispered under his breath. "I'm sorry, man."

"And if she doesn't." I turned to see Lauren putting shoes on. "If she doesn't drop the charges?"

He raised a brow. "She'll be booked—sent to Central Booking until she can be arraigned. It's a holiday weekend—"

"My wife—_my fucking wife_—will not be spending the weekend at Riker's Island." As someone who's been there before, there was no fucking way that shit was happening. "You serious?" I asked Lauren. "Bella—you'd have her thrown in jail?" It was suddenly the funniest thing I'd ever heard. "Bella . . . you molest—_fuck our son_—he's thirteen, fourteen, doesn't make a fucking difference. And you have her hauled off to jail?"

Lauren's eyes widened. "I don't know what you're talking about. She came here—she choked me. She almost killed me! And I refuse to live in fear." It was actually a smart move.

Now, if she disappeared, authorities might know where to look—point the finger.

I pointed mine. "You think you're so fucking slick—"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Will said. "Call your brother, have him meet you at the station. Go 'head."

I nodded.

And I didn't say any more.

Bella had her head down in the back of the squad car, and I tapped the window—mouthing "I love you" before I saw another pig mobile roll up. That was when I peeped Will leaving Lauren's spot. "Get ahold of your brother, meet us over there," he hollered out to me.

As I ran to my car, taking mine instead of Bella's minivan I arrived in, I called Carlisle. He was quick to apologize for Anthony coming over. But I told him to shut the fuck up about that shit. Of course, Anthony heard something about Damion hurting his mother. I couldn't blame my nephew for losing his temper, storming into our crib. That was_ niente_—unimportant as far as I was concerned.

He was just as shocked as I was to find out that Bella had been arrested.

Carlisle also said he'd leave right away—be at the precinct within five minutes. That was cool—good enough for me. He'd keep an eye on Bella, as I wasn't heading there right away.

My foot was heavy on the gas as I speedily drove to Aro's crib. Then I stopped short, parked partially on the sidewalk, before I ran up to his door.

"Open up!" I banged with my fist sideways, waiting, about to kick the fucking door down.

Aro was fast to tear open the door, nine in his hand, wide eyes. "What's up?"

I called him with my finger. "Come outside."

He put his heat in his waist as I backed up the walkway. "What's going on?" He looked around me. "Who drove you?"

"No one—"

"Everything okay?" He was worried, and then Lisa, AJ, and Lisa's sister Carlotta poked their heads out the door. "Get back inside!" Aro shouted.

I balled my hands into fists, ready to lose my shit again.

"Daddy?" It was Katie now, peeking out.

"Get back in!" Aro told her.

She did as he said, closing the door after herself.

"You need to come with me," I said.

Aro put a hand up. "What's going on?"

"Bella was arrested."

"Fuck—for what?" He dug his keys out of his pocket. "We'll take my car—"

I stopped him, our chests nearly touching. "We found out some shit today—shit your cunt-ex-wife did."

"Whoa…what?" He looked confused.

"When my son was fourteen, when Damion was a kid, she raped him—"

He jumped back, shocked. "What? What the fuck you talkin' about?"

"How or why Bella did what she did isn't important. Okay? She had—Lauren had Bella arrested. My wife went to her crib, choked her out, and neighbors called the pigs. They arrested her, and I need you to go down to the precinct—tell Lau to drop the fucking charges." My stomach was in knots, ready to swing at Aro just for marrying and having kids with that bitch—bringing her into our lives.

Aro wore a grimace, slightly shaking his head. "Why—"

"Listen to me." I brought my voice down. "Listen close, 'cause I only plan to say this once." I placed my hand on his chest. "You better get Lauren to drop those charges, or else," I laughed. "You get that bitch to drop the charges, or I'll rain a shitstorm down on your family, like you've never _fuckin'_ seen. You hear me?"

He gnashed his teeth together, staring into my eyes. I'm sure he didn't like what I had to say, but I knew he'd respect it. Plus, he cares—possibly has more love for _my_ wife, than he ever had for _his_ ex.

"Do you understand?" I asked him.

He nodded. "I do."

I patted his back. "I'm glad."

From there, we got into my car and drove to the police station while my mind whirred.

Truth be told, I was scared. Forget about what I'd do if Lauren didn't drop the charges. I just didn't want my wife to be away from me—her staying in that fucked-up place for the weekend, being brought in front of a judge, the whole nine that comes with being arrested. Not _my_ wife—not my Bebella.

I know more than a dozen cops.

I know quite a few F.B.I. agents.

I know law enforcement from all sides of the spectrum that help me out, look the other way, and tip me off.

Fuck. I also have a few judges in my pocket, a couple politicians, too.

But no one, no one could help get Bella released quick enough—unless Lauren just dropped the charges.

"She fucked up," I muttered as we turned down Third Avenue.

Aro nodded. "She did that, though?"

"Damion—why he's so messed in the head. Your wife was molesting him."

Aro shook his head. "You're serious?"

I nodded. "You know—"

"Regardless—"

"Regardless, nothing. Get her to drop the charges, and then we'll take it from there," I said. "Nothing you can say will change my mind." He knew she was dead. It's just a matter of when now. Deep down, Aro didn't give a fuck. He contemplated doing it himself a few times, seriously, too. After all the shit she put him through . . . I still expected him to argue it, though. Aro may not always do the right thing, but he's always trying to _look_ like he is.

"She might run to the Feds," he sighed. "That's still the mother of my kids."

"I understand that." I nodded. "She'll disappear—save them the heartache of having to go to her funeral. We'll leave it at nobody knows shit—she took off. She was never a mother to them any-fucking-way."

He huffed out a breath, massaging his forehead. "You'd have to wait a while. I'd personally appreciate it if it happened after Katie had the baby. I hate that they're so close, that Katie believes her lies, but my daughter loves her mother."

I nodded.

"And in the meantime, she might go to the Feds."

"With what?" I asked. "What the fuck does she know? Once she drops the charges . . . what the fuck does she know, Aro?" Now I wondered how well I could trust him, or what he might have told that cunt while they were married.

"That shit—Alec?" He turned to me. "It was a while back, but she saw—she helped me clean that shit up. She could have me on Murder One if they gave her immunity."

"Then we sit on her." I shrugged. "I don't know how Marcus handled that shit back in the day. But I know he was approached about Alec's murder. I think he said—dude had beef with some people up in Harlem, which wasn't far from the truth." I didn't give a fuck about that shit. "You talk to her—you go in, act concerned, but convince her to say she don't know what happened. She got scared, blamed Bella, and I don't give a goddamn. She drops the charges, we have someone watch her—one wrong move, she's gone. We deal with the fallout as it comes." I wiped my hands clean.

"And—" I patted his back. "Unless they exhume Alec's body—unless Lauren can come up with proof, evidence? It's just her word against yours. Does she know anything else?"

Aro gulped, shaking his head.

"Look…you don't gotta be afraid—"

"I'm not," Aro said. "This shit is just crazy. She fucked Dame?" He jerked his head, pulling into a parking spot. "When was this? How could she do that sick shit? He was a baby—"

"Don't worry about that shit." I brought my cell to my ear after hitting Brando's name. He's an associate of mine who's on C-bag's crew. He's always looking to move up, work with me or do work for me. "You just get to talkin' to her."

Brando picked up on the second ring, and I was quick to tell him his next assignment. Knowing Brando wouldn't have a problem icing a woman, I told him he was to go sit by Lauren's apartment. She wasn't home yet, but I wanted to know her every move. If she was to leave after she got home, he was to follow her. If she went toward any federal building, he was to kill her before she could step foot in the place.

It was simple.

The precinct was very active despite the holiday. Drunks, prostitutes, cops, and lowlifes filled the place. The sounds of people talking, crying, screaming, and telephones ringing echoed through the space.

And my head whipped every which way looking for my wife, Lauren, or the cops who brought them in. I actually found Carlisle first, and he was talking to a crying Lauren.

"You listening to this bitch's sob story, too?" I asked my brother.

He put a hand up, indicating I shut my mouth.

"Where's my wife?" I stared down at Lauren, who was quick to cower away from me.

"C'mere." Aro yoked Lauren up by her arm. "What the fuck did you do?" He shook her, and then a cop intervened. "I'm fine." Aro backed off, showing everyone his hands. "This is my wife."

"Ex-wife!" Lauren spat.

I groaned, just staring at her, wondering what she'd look like without a head, or maybe just a slit across her neck.

"Edward." Carlisle held my bicep and dragged me away from them. "Let Aro talk to her."

Gazing back, my buddy had calmed down and pulled up a chair—seeming like he was being attentive to that bitch.

"Where is she?" I was still looking everywhere for Bella.

"She's in the interview room. Out of respect to you, because of who she is, they didn't put her in the cage," he said.

I let go of a gust of breath. "Cool."

"She's chillin', drinking coffee. No one wants to see her go down to Central Booking. Relax." He patted my back. "No charges have been filed, she hasn't been fingerprinted—no one's booked her at all."

I massaged my forehead. "I wanna see her."

"Just give it a minute." He squeezed my shoulder. "She knows not to talk to anyone. No one is asking her anything either. Be glad the Feds didn't get ahold of her. They'd be trying to sell her a split-level in Idaho or some shit." He snickered. "Trying to get her to rat you out . . . but she's not saying shit, all right?"

"I don't care about that!" The nerve of him, I thought. "I trust Bella. They could offer her the moon, and she still wouldn't sell me out. I just wanna make sure—"

"She's fine, but if you go in there…Come on, it's Bella. You know she'll get emotional if she sees you. Just relax. They wanna sort out this mess with Lauren first. She's writing out a statement. And all we can do is wait." He walked over to a chair and sat down. "Have a seat." He gestured to the one next to him.

I couldn't sit.

"Worse comes to worst, we finagle a deal with one of these pigs—we write a check," he whispered. "Or . . . I'll call Sonny, have him come down with some cash."

"Don't say shit to Sonny." I didn't want anyone to know Bella got pinched—least of all Sonny, any of our kids.

"Alex, then. She knows how to get into my safe. I'm just saying. We'll talk to someone, pay 'em off. Have it so Bella can turn herself in Monday morning. She won't have to spend the weekend down there. If Lauren presses charges, they'll have no choice but to book her. We might be able to stall the process, though. Bro, there's little I can do until I know—"

"Fuck that." I'd sooner skip town with her, or make Lauren, and thus this problem, disappear before Monday.

No complainant, no charges.

"If she turned herself in early enough on Monday morning, she'd be brought in front of a judge by lunch—we pay her bail, which will be pennies—and she'd be home in time for dinner." He put his hands up. "That's all I'm saying. She gets a court date, and then she's done—we'll deal with shit as it happens."

I shook my head. "Then she'd have a record—she'd be booked. That's not happening."

We couldn't even talk with ears everywhere. All we could do was wait while I paced. On occasion, I'd peek into the main, like, clerical area—where Lauren sat at a desk. Aro was saying a mouthful; his mouth moving rapidly while Lauren kept shaking her head. She looked like a fucking bobblehead doll that I wanted to smash with my shoe. Then she'd touch her neck every so often. It was sickening, and I wanted to choke her out myself.

Actually, no. I wanted to stab the fuck out of her, round up as many fucking douchebag men I could find—have them do some shit to her, have her raped, torn the fuck apart, then—as soon as she died, I'd spit on her soul as her eyes emptied, piss on her dead body, and then wear a smile as I placed piece after piece into the meat grinder. Fuck, just killing her. I wanted her to suffer—like I'd never wanted anyone to suffer before.

"Stop staring," Carlisle said.

I stiffened, wanting to punch something.

"Relax," my brother whispered. "Don't you do something stupid—get _your_ ass locked up." He was absolutely correct.

"We gotta get the fuck outta here." My voice was strained.

He sighed, squeezing my shoulder again.

"Or, I need my wife. I'd—I'd feel a lot—a lot better if—"

Carlisle nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

When Aro nodded, straightened out and left his seat, I walked to meet him halfway. "She wants to file a restraining order against you and Bella—that's it." He chuckled. "I just—I don't know." He shrugged. "She's buggin', but says she won't press charges—was hell-bent for a while, though."

"Go get a cop—someone. Get Bella released," I told Carlisle.

He didn't reply, going over to Lauren, and then ushering them over to a large counter.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

Twenty minutes later, we were home. Unfortunately for Bella, I wouldn't let her out of my sight, and my temper was still flaring.

It's odd. I finally knew what Bella must have felt like . . . all those times the Feds would haul my ass in. Those times I actually was arrested, and those occasions I did actual time, whether it was a few days, weeks, or years. Since we've been together, I've had many experiences with the law . . .

The minute she was free, I hugged her the tightest I could, nearly in tears.

But when we got home . . .

Like one of the kids, as soon as I knew she was all right, I couldn't help but be angry with her.

Those instances I mentioned earlier, Bella would kiss up on me and love on me when I was released, all before she'd started waving fists and smacking the crap outta me.

I was going through the same stages, and I couldn't wait for this current feeling to pass.

"Screaming, storming in there—do you know how fucking stupid that was?" I shouted, pacing in our bedroom. "It was the dumbest fucking move ever!" So far, she'd been taking it, just sitting on the bed, tearstained cheeks and her head down. "Bella!"

"I made a mistake!" she hollered back. "What do you want me to say? I fucked up, but only because the cops _showed_ up." She widened her eyes.

I bit my lips to keep from smiling, my frustration dissipating.

"You can keep yelling like an ass, but I'm not sorry." She folded her arms across her chest and looked away from me.

"Look at me!"

Her gaze found me again.

"You scared the fuck out of me, all right?" Shouting, laughing, on the verge of fucking tears. Was there an emotion I wouldn't feel today?

"That…I'm sorry about." Her mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. "I feel a little badass, though."

I shook my head, rubbing the sting out of my eyes.

"I'm kidding . . . I keep being pissed and then . . . I don't know," she whispered. "Have you heard from Damion? Has Sonny found him?"

For the first time since I'd arrived at the station, I checked my cell. "No…he hasn't called me."

Bella wrang her hands together, and then let out a groan. "That bitch is dead!" She stood up and pointed at me. "The cops, fucking F.B.I. . . . She disappears, fuck it! If there's no evidence, there's no fucking case—fuck it!" She waved her fist at the ceiling.

"I'll take care of it—"

"No!" she laughed. "That bitch is mine—fucking molest, rape my fucking son." Her hand touched her chest, her voice full of emotion. "He was a young fourteen. I know you had sex at—"

"Shhh." I pulled her into my arms.

"No!" She pushed me away. "Do you have any idea how much he's hurting right now? He's probably still so fucking confused." She covered her face, sobbing into her hands.

"I'm going to take care of this." I kissed her forehead. "I promise . . . Lauren will . . . She'll get what's coming to her. They don't call karma a bitch for nothing, right?" I felt my chest get tight, but I tried to ignore that feeling. "Karma."

"I—"

I smiled. "Don't pull any silly stunts . . . I'll have eyes on you, too. If you're not with me, someone else will be watching your every move. Just because you can't see them, don't assume no one's watching. Bet the motherfucking Feds get wind of this shit . . . start sniffing around," I lied, truly doubting the Feds would give a fuck about this.

"Edward—"

"It is what it is." I shrugged. "I won't risk you going away, or being pinned with a murder rap. We'll run before that happens. And I know you don't care—shit—I hardly give a fuck. But we gotta be careful. Lemme handle this." I lifted her hand to kiss her palm.

Bella swallowed, staring at me with a softness in her eyes. "You were scared?"

"Petrified," I admitted. "Being kept from you . . . a fucking weekend away, not having the choice, not knowing what would happen." A groan escaped me as I pulled her into my arms. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She sniffed my chest, which made me smile. Then she sneezed, and that made me cringe. I hope she wasn't getting sick. "Shit." She backed away. "I think I'm getting sick—I can feel it…" _Fuck_. I grimaced, selfishly hoping I wouldn't catch it.

It was best for _all_ of us if I didn't get it, lemme tell you.

"Maybe some whore down at the police station breathed on me."

I couldn't help it; I cracked up, and Bella kept muttering as she headed to the bathroom.

"The world's full of 'em—no goddamn respect," she mumbled.

I followed her, my fingers itching to touch her.

"Bitch better hide, 'cause I've had it." She started to fill the tub, and my dick took notice of that shit. "I've had it!" She spun around to face me, fire in her eyes. "Tell me there will be justice." She punched her palm.

I raised a brow, mildly amused. "Trust." Advancing slowly, I let my eyes roam over her as she undressed.

This woman—my wife, who was all heart…she was also ruthless if her babies, our babies, were in harm's way. I remember the look she had in Lauren's apartment. Those eyes, that crazed expression was so sinister . . .

Yeah, I had no doubt. Bella wouldn't have stopped if I hadn't arrived. And right now, Bella was giving me one fucked-up ride. Not the good kind—well, not yet. But the kind where I couldn't get a grasp on a feeling and fucking stick to it.

One second, I wanted to laugh. Another, I wanted to cry. Then I wanted to grab her, shake the shit out of her, make her understand that she's not allowed to scare me that way. . . and then I wanted to _fuck_ her.

"You're staring at me," she whispered, peering up at me.

I swallowed, my arms limp but fists clenching. She was too fucking beautiful, all naked and exposed—even after all these years, the things she did to me—how she made my body react. . .

Jerking my chin at the tub, I said, "Get in."

She kept my stare for a beat, but then she obeyed without a word.

I pushed off my own clothes, not giving a fuck where they landed.

Once in the Jacuzzi, I gathered her in my arms, her back to my chest. I sighed in relief. At the same time, my chest felt tighter? I couldn't explain that shit, though one thing was for sure. If I wasn't allowed to let go of the feelings surging inside of me soon, I'd explode.

The hot water felt incredible, but the humid air made it more difficult to take deep breaths.

"Edward…" She tilted her face and looked at me, eyes welling up. Her bottom lip quivered, too.

"Stop." I nipped at her jaw. I almost wanted to…I don't know…fucking sink my teeth into her. Hurt her, then love her harder. "Don't cry." She shook her head. I smiled a little. "You were always my moosh-monster." That was meant to be sweet, I think, but Bella's eyes only welled up more. Just my luck, right?

"Quit it." I laughed through my nose.

When she trembled in my arms, I squeezed her to me—wanting to hold her even tighter, gnashing my teeth together, my body stiffening—and I wanted to consume her.

"I love you," she whimpered. Squirming around, she finally settled on top of me, her legs straddling me. "I love you."

I nodded and bit her nose. "To stupidity, right?" I grinned. "I love you, too."

She giggled but sobered quickly. "Are you mad at me?"

That she even asked that question. . .

"Like you wouldn't believe," I chuckled darkly. My jaw flexed as I gripped hers. "Don't you ever pull that kind of shit on me again." I could barely contain my anger or look at her; meanwhile, my cock was hard and wanted her _right this fucking instant_. "We clear on that?"

I was so full of shit. After all, she wouldn't be my Bebella if she didn't do something crazy on occasion. One day, I think my wife will give me a heart attack—that's how much she matters, how violently she makes me react. Her and the kids…they're all competing, I bet.

"Yeah," she breathed out, pressing her tits against my chest. She licked her lips, a movement I caught. "Edward—"

"Shut up." I crashed my mouth to hers, overcome with need. I'd reached my breaking point as well. Bella wasn't the only one who was fed up; I was, too.

Sliding my hands down her wet body, I gripped her hips firmly and rocked her against the cock. I groaned and pushed my tongue into her mouth.

I spat out a curse when she took me inside of her.

Needing to be in control, I guided her over me. Water splashed around us when I pulled her toward me at the same time as I thrust upward, into her. _Fuck_. I went deep. Long strokes. She cried out; I kissed her again. She fucking clawed at me, making me hiss. In return, I squeezed her even harder.

"Christ, yes," she moaned, rolling her hips. I bucked mine, and I slid in even deeper. That made her gasp. "Oh, fuck—more… More, Edward." She kissed me frantically, her arms around my neck, her tits smashed together between us. "_Please_."

I released a heavy breath. "Get up—into the bedroom." I couldn't move the way I wanted to in here.

Bella didn't waste any time, but she did stop to grab a towel.

"Fuck that." I threw the towel on the floor and ushered her back to our bedroom.

After dropping a wet kiss on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, I pushed her onto our California King. She let out a squeal, looking fucking gorgeous, and I smiled.

Slowly, feeling like the predator I actually was, I crawled over her delectable body, still wet, fucking soaked.

"Open." My voice was gruff, husky as fuck.

She spread her legs for me.

Humming quietly, I kissed her inner thighs.

"Don't be a tease." She tried to pull me toward her pussy, but I swatted her hands away. "Edward!"

I grinned up at her and got comfortable between her legs. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?" She actually flipped me off. "OH! Well, fuck you, too."

She giggled. "Can't you just…oh!"

She didn't continue, since I buried my face against her wet pussy.

I ate that pussy good—like only I know how to.

When my fingers pushed into her, all while I sucked on her clit, she got a little religious, started shouting out for God and shit.

I reminded her that calling me Edward was just fine.

"Edward! God—fuck!" she cried out, rubbing against my face. "Oh, yeah! Get it!" The way she was gripping my hair kinda hurt, but I'd get her back soon enough. "I need, I need—take me home…" I curled two fingers upward, and I watched as her mouth popped open in a silent scream. Her pussy tensed around me, and I moaned into her flesh, continuing to eat her out. It wasn't until she was pleading for me to stop that I removed my mouth from her.

"Shit!" She was panting, chest heaving, and cheeks flushed. "That was…"

Kneeling between her parted legs, I pointed down. "My turn." I wiped my chin, horny as hell and still wound up so tight.

"Mmm." She hummed and sat up. Her hands slid up my thighs. "My fatty." She kissed the tip.

"_Suck it_," I gritted out.

Blowing out a breath, I tugged at my hair, reining it in—my uncontrollable hunger.

A blowjob wasn't going to cut it, but it was a good start. My Bebella needed a good fucking pounding—hell, _I_ needed to give her that. But as she wrapped those lips of hers around my cock and sucked me in, I figured I could hold off for a few.

_Maybe_.

"That's it." I let out a moan and threaded my fingers through her still-wet hair. What she did, it always felt so fucking amazing, especially when her heart was really in it—like it was now. Her tongue swirled around the head before she suckled me. Her hand came up to massage my balls, and when I pushed deeper into her hot mouth, she just hummed and kept going.

In the end, I was fucking her mouth, and she made these sucking noises that were driving me in-fucking-sane. I was mad with lust. "So good," I groaned. But, unfortunately, it still wasn't enough, and I wasn't about to come this way. So, when I was getting there, to that point of no return, I yanked on her hair and told her to get on all fours.

Watching her as she scrambled into position, I tried to calm down.

I took deep breaths through my nose.

My chest heaved.

I felt desperate.

Then my cock found her fast. My fingers dug into her hips, her soft and smooth flesh, and I slammed into her.

"Fuck!" I spat out, setting a fast pace.

And _this_ was what I needed.

My head lolled back, and I just focused on rocking that pussy. From behind, I took her hard, grinding deeply. Bella needed this, too; I could tell. She pushed back, causing her luscious ass to slap against my lower abdomen. It was a hot motherfucking view.

Carnal, feral—we were both overzealous, but I didn't see an end in sight. I swear…each push, each goddamn shove, I felt the pressure on my chest lift.

"Ow," she whimpered, and I guess I was squeezing her too hard. Still, she continued at the same pace, kept pushing when I did. "Shit—Edward, it…"

"Take it," I panted and pounded into her. "Just…" I swallowed and then groaned in pleasure. "Fuckin' take it."

"Oh, yeah…" My wife squeezed the hell outta my erection. "Yes!" she hissed.

When I got too close again, I flipped her over onto her back.

Claiming her mouth, I kissed her stupid. _She_ was amazing. My wife has the tendency to infuriate me at times, make me wanna pull my hair out, but…I wouldn't change a thing. Not really. Just like I drive her nuts, she still loves my sorry ass.

"You want it?" I gripped my cock and slid it up and down her soaked slit. "Look at that." Seeing how wet she was, my mouth watered. I jacked my cock slowly and cupped her crotch. "I own this."

"Yes," she whined and tried to pull me closer. Her legs went around me, her feet digging into my ass. "Fuck me, Edward. I need it."

I grinned and sniffed my hand, now damp with her arousal. The scent was heady and addictive, and I licked it, wanting more from the source. But it was my damn turn. So, I hovered over her and rammed my cock inside her slick pussy again. Just as fast, but even harder now. I was pushing her deeper into the mattress, the headboard quaking.

"I love you," she cried, thankfully there were no tears in sight.

I could barely breathe. "_Christ_." I screwed my eyes shut and dropped my forehead to hers. Our legs were all tangled; we used them for leverage.

Pushing, pulling, sliding, twisting, grinding. "Baby…"

She kissed away a bead of sweat from my temple.

Her fingernails dragging along my back caused a shiver to shoot through me. "Almost," I moaned, letting out a shuddering breath.

My abs tensed, insides coiling in anticipation—fuck—I could feel it everywhere. I ground deeper, stimulating her clit, which made her muscles clamp down on my throbbing cock. And…when I opened my eyes again and looked down at her face…that face… She was close, too. So close. Almost there—I was gonna take her home one more time.

"Let me feel you, baby." I breathed shallowly in her ear. "Come on. . . Give it to me."

Her back arched fiercely, which pushed out her tits, and I had to…I licked my lips, starved. I dipped down and sucked a nipple into my mouth, feeling it constrict between my lips, between my teeth.

"Now!" she screamed breathlessly, throwing her head back, digging it into the pillows.

I was done for.

With a final thrust and a guttural groan, my orgasm shot through me like a goddamn fire. My spine tingled, my balls tightened, and I'd chased down the release I needed. Through lazy, instinctual bucks of my hips, I spilled my come deep inside of her. And Bella's own orgasm made mine last longer, 'cause she milked the fuck outta my cock, almost pulsing around it. Fuck me, I think my toes curled. I couldn't be sure. I wasn't sure of _anything_. Only that this was indescribable—something I'd store away to think back on later.

"Can't breathe," she wheezed out in a chuckle, making me realize that I'd collapsed on her.

"Gimme a minute," I panted and nuzzled her neck.

"I'm—I'm—I'm gonna sneeze!"

I was off her in a flash, and she rolled to the side and sneezed into her arm.

Feeling a bit concerned, I left the bed and walked into the bathroom to grab a towel. If she was getting sick, it probably wasn't best to fall asleep with soaked hair.

"Lift your head, baby." Back on the bed, I flipped her pillow over and laid out the towel. She giggled as I sorta cocooned her head in it. Only her face was visible when I was done. Then we got under the covers. "Let's rest." I kissed her on the forehead.

"Mmm." She hummed and scooted closer to me. "Are…are we okay?"

I grinned against her cheek. "We're always okay, Bebella. You just gotta stop bein' stupid."

She mock-punched my chest, causing me to laugh. "Says the stupidest of them all," she grumbled. "Mr. FuckStupid." She peered up at me with a teasing grin.

I laughed harder and bit her cheek. "Shut up—that's Mr. FuckHot to you."

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts.**_

_**Special thanks to Cara No for the fuckhot lemon!**_


	26. Titanium

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**Sorry for the delay. I'm very sick, and I usually don't care . . . but I feel like genuine shit. So, if you don't have anything nice to say, or you plan on flouncing - which would be sad because ch27 is like whoa - don't review. Thank you.**

**Due to some really nasty bitches out there . . . I think people refer to them as trolls? I am no longer going to read Anon reviews. They will blindly get deleted since FFn no longer gives me the option to disable them. I apologize if this poses as an inconvenience, as most of you share your views and/or praise. And I truly do appreciate all reviews . . .. But to those of you who wish to insult me, don't be a coward, log-in! LOL. **

**So nervous about this chapter . . . Blah. Whatever. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Titanium**

**Santino (Sonny) POV**

**K**ylie was all smiles when she showed up at the apartment. Gio was with her, and I was being a sport—letting them hang out here by themselves later, when Maggie and I head to Eclipse. I didn't like it, and I told them not to fuck on my bed. I was adamant about that shit, told Peto I'd beat his ass if he did, although I probably wouldn't.

Earlier in the day, my sister was happy to take Maggie shopping, dragging Gio along.

While they were gone, I drove around looking for Dame again.

Yesterday, Maggie and I went everywhere—any place I could think of, trying to find him to no avail. We'd done the same Thursday night, coming up empty as well. He went off the grid, and I hope he's safe. But I wasn't about to go above and beyond to find him. The kid doesn't wanna be found.

No news is good news, or so I'm told.

If anything happened, we'd know about it.

He's fine.

All I'd have to do is call the cell company . . . my buddy at AT&T, if I really wanted to find him.

It was some crazy shit—what happened—but Dame looked mortified when it all came to light. Mom thinks Lauren is the reason he's the way he is. I don't know. I can't imagine being in his shoes, and I can't remember if I would have been ready for sex at fourteen? I only lost my virginity a year later, but . . . I don't know. Then again, any sex I'd ever had that wasn't with Katie, or now with Maggie, it didn't mean a fucking thing. To me, love makes a big difference. Everything else—every other broad I was ever with—meant nothing.

And everything that concerns broads means the world to my brother. He takes that shit to heart—whether he loves them or not. He's never had a casual anything—encounter or relationship.

Either way, I felt for him, but I was also still angry with him and thought he was doing a lot of this shit for attention.

I called my parents this morning and Dad said that Mom was sick—had a cold. They weren't doing anything today besides chillin' in bed, which was the same shit they did yesterday, too.

It—Damion, finding him—was going to fall on my shoulders.

I told my father that my brother needed to cool down. He won't be away forever. He needs time, whatever, and my life wasn't going to stop just because of him.

Not anymore.

I was tired of playing Damion's keeper.

"Did you catch the Giants game last night?" Gio asked. We were in my living room, sipping beers while Kylie helped Maggie get ready.

"I didn't," I admitted. "I know the score, though."

He nodded, sighing and looking around. "Katie's getting big."

"She is," I said, wondering how much longer the girls would be.

"How long until—what's her due date again?" he asked.

"December 18th. She's in the home stretch—whatever, like twenty days." I shrugged, wishing it was that day already. I get butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.

He grinned. "Kylie and I are going to be godparents. How cool is that?"

I smiled back. "Very fucking cool." When Katie asked me which brother should be the godfather last month . . . I didn't hesitate to say Gio.

"Do you guys have names?" He sipped his Heineken.

"There's one I'm pushing," I sighed, looking down to my watch. Regardless of any beef he has with Dame at the moment, Anthony was going to meet me at Eclipse at 8:30. It was already nearly 7:30. We were cutting it close. "And I'm not going to mention it because…"

"You don't wanna jinx it?" he laughed, his cell phone vibrating, and then his lips drew a tight-line.

"What's wrong?"

"My mother is texting me—wants me at her house." He shook his head. "It sucks—being torn. All I wanna do is spend this time with Ky, but I know I should be with my family, too? My father's taking us bowling tomorrow." He rolled his eyes. "You and Maggie should come—"

"Nah . . . If Maggie wants to tag along…" I wasn't going to stop my girl from chillin' with her friends, but the more mileage between Aro and me the better.

"I remember her…from when I went to Bishop Ford?" He cocked a brow.

"Maggie? What about her?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I guess she just doesn't seem like your type?" Gio seemed nervous.

"Why is that?" I asked, leaning toward him. "What's my type? If this is because of your sister—"

"Nah, man. I get it. Shit didn't work with you two. I'm just saying…I don't know Maggie. They treated her like a fucking pariah, though. No offense. She was like the quiet girl in the back who ate her hair, nose always in a book. Kids used to tease the fuck out of her. I hope she's having a better time at school now."

I frowned. "Me too. She doesn't talk about school that much." I didn't elaborate, seeing him go for his cell again.

He stared at his phone. "Unless there's something wrong." Gio placed it in his pocket. "Mom's probably just lonely."

"I hear she's often lonely . . ." I didn't know what to say.

He pursed his lips, his eyes widening as he stared behind me, looking like he was stuck on stupid.

Turning my head, I saw Maggie, which also made my jaw drop. She was wearing very high heels, my eyes trailing from her feet on up. Her legs looked very long, her thighs meaty and perfect. The black sequined dress stopped well above her knees, and her breasts . . . they nearly spilled over the top of it. There were no sleeves or straps, and all I saw was skin. Maggie's hair was down and curly, like the night we chilled for the first time. "Wow," I said.

Her face blazed red.

"Right?" Kylie shouted. "I'd fuck her." She slapped Maggie's ass.

"Easy," I laughed.

"Doesn't she look hot, Gio?" Kylie stared at her boyfriend, and I hoped he wasn't dumb. That was a trick question.

Gazing back at him, he wouldn't even look at Maggie, and he just shrugged—which was smart of him.

Personally, I was having mixed feelings. My girl looked too fucking good, so good only I should be privy to the sight.

"Santino…" She took another step toward me.

I widened my arms, welcoming her on my lap.

"How do I look?" She smiled.

"Amazing." I held her cheek, nipping her jaw—wanting to bite it and whisk her off into the bedroom.

She giggled. "I'm glad you like it."

"Are you kidding?" Kylie snorted, plopping down onto Gio's lap. "It's like he's a starving cartoon and you're the juicy rump roast—the mirage in the desert."

I barked out a laugh, standing Maggie up and following. "We gotta meet Ant . . . Don't go into our bedroom."

Kylie rolled her eyes, waving us away. "We're not animals—"

"Yeah, right," Maggie and I said in unison.

"We're gonna watch a movie." Kylie kissed Gio's reddened cheek. "We also—last night we talked." She turned to look back at me. "I told Dad and Mom this morning . . ." They were both smiling wide as Maggie squeezed my arm, excited. Whatever Kylie was going to say, Maggie knew already. "Gio's going to transfer, and I'm going to reapply to NYU for the fall."

"What?" I was so happy, I grabbed Kylie from Gio—to hug my baby sister and twirl her around. "You're not leaving?"

She hugged me around the neck. "Nope."

I set her down. "If it's what you want."

"I _ran away_ to Texas, man," Gio said. "I wanna come back, too."

"It's what I want." Kylie went over to embrace Maggie. "You'll knock 'em all dead."

"So will you guys . . . at NYU." I grabbed Maggie's coat and helped her into it. "Geez." I was so happy things wouldn't change too much. "Mom and Dad—"

"I thought Daddy was going to cry," Kylie giggled.

"My dad's ecstatic, too." Gio nodded.

"We're hoping to get an off-campus apartment."

"I wouldn't push it," I told Kylie, taking Shaky's hair out from her coat. "We need to go."

We waved and Maggie grabbed my hand as we left the apartment. Once again, I'd rented a limo. Sadly, I wouldn't be getting laid in this one either, having to meet Ant so soon.

We had champagne on our way to toast our night, and I gave Maggie a brief rundown of things. There was no way I was leaving her alone while Ant and I had that sit-down. And she assured me that whatever was said, she wouldn't repeat—not that she'd fully comprehend what we were discussing anyway.

The line to get into Eclipse was actually pretty fucking long, seeing as it was a Saturday night. That always happens, but tonight . . . I wasn't going to let it get to max capacity, and we had the metal detectors out. I wasn't about to let some shit pop off while Maggie was here.

She had wide eyes as we left the limo. "Wow…it looks nice."

I grinned, placing my arm around her. In the limo, I also told her more about the club—that there would be actual naked women walking around. I think she was embarrassed by the concept alone, blushing and ducking her head. And I didn't know what to expect when we got inside. As I checked her coat, she bopped to the beat of the current song playing, and I dug it. Like always, Maggie was going to go with the flow.

With her arm tucked in mine and me practically shielding her from sight, we went to the booth toward the back I'd reserved for us. Quite a few "family" members were here, including Caius, Nunzio, and Mike. My crew was here, and they all lifted their drinks as we passed them.

"It's like _Goodfellas_...when Henry takes Karen to the club, only louder," she whispered in my ear.

"Christ. You're adorable." I landed a loud smooch on her cheek. "When'd'ju watch that?"

"Kylie and I watched it last week." She slid into the booth.

I followed, sighing once my arm was around her. "What do you want to drink?"

"I take that back. It's not like that movie."

"What?" I smiled.

Maggie kept her eyes on her lap. "They really _are_ naked."

I had to chuckle and kiss her cheek again. "You're too fucking cute. Have I told you that lately?"

She gave me a toothy grin. "Not since...a minute ago. I'd rather be sexy, though."

"You're cute, sexy...I could go on and on. But how 'bout you tell me what you wanna drink?" I kissed those lips, stopping before I got carried away.

"I don't wanna get drunk, and you already had beer." She scrunched that little button nose that looks like a tulip. "I'll have more champagne?"

"If that's what you want." I kissed her palm. "You're okay here . . . You can look around. They don't mind if you look. You know? That's why they're here."

"Um." She swallowed loudly, taking a peek along the floor. I followed her line of sight right to Layla, who was already waving and coming over with a bottle of Cristal.

"Hi!" Layla shouted. "You must be Maggie!"

"I am." She looked to me, cautious.

"This is Layla." I gestured to her.

"Oh." Maggie put her hand out. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Layla cleared her throat, quick to serve the champagne.

And it was awkward as fuck. Not for me—I didn't give a shit. But after having worked with Layla for a while, I noticed she was acting weird, and Maggie had stiffened. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," they both said.

"He was talking to me," Maggie informed Layla.

I pursed my lips, liking how her claws came out, although I _shouldn't_ get a kick out of that shit, and I _was _speaking to my girl—not Layla. "Thank you," I said.

She smiled, putting a hand up and backing away. "If you need anything . . ." Then she was gone, off to another table.

I turned to Maggie. "What was that?"

She flipped her hair, sipping her champagne. "She likes you."

I chuckled. "We work together—"

"_And_ she likes you." She turned back to me. "I mean, I trust you—"

"It doesn't sound like it." I frowned. "What do you have to be worried about?"

She narrowed her eyes at the dancer on stage, but I could tell she was doing so to avoid my question.

"Hey…" I turned her chin back to me. "You're it for me. I don't know what I have to do to prove it to you."

"I'm being silly." She grinned.

"When we're married—both of us wearing rings—I don't know." I shrugged. "I bet there'll be less to worry about." I mentioned it to gauge her reaction, marrying me.

She smiled wider. "I hope that day comes."

I swore my heart stopped for a second. "Well, um, when you're through with college and you're sure…" I was a little eager, hoping I wouldn't have to wait that long to call her my wife.

"After college?" Her face fell. "Why after? Whenever you decide to ask . . ." She trailed off, guzzling the rest of her drink.

I ran my hand up her thigh, squeezing it. "I'd marry you tomorrow if you were ready."

She coughed, choking on the liquid. "You would?"

"We wouldn't be living in sin—your dad might accept us." I threw that out there. "And maybe Layla does have the hots for me, or whatever. But if we were married—that'd take me off the market permanently."

"Right." She nodded.

"Will you…?" I swallowed, my mouth dry, while I also turned my whole body to face her. "Will you marry me?" I palmed her cheeks, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest.

She was breathing heavily, about to hyperventilate, as she brought her hands up to mine. "Yes . . . I will." Her eyes filled with tears.

I laughed my ass off, too fucking happy in this moment. "I love you." My mouth claimed hers, and it was like the club disappeared.

It was Maggie and me, me and Maggie, and nothing—nothing could keep us apart. It was like I wanted to crawl inside her and live—be that close, love and cherish her until the day I died. It's a scary feeling, loving someone to that extent—the way I love her.

"Excuse me?"

I smiled against Maggie's lips, hearing Ant.

"Sorry to interrupt."

"You're not." I cleared my throat, sitting up and pulling Maggie with me. "Have a seat."

He slid into the booth opposite us as he snapped his fingers for a drink. "You guys want anything?"

"We're good," I said. "Have you seen my brother?"

He grimaced, shaking his head. "I'd rather not discuss that."

I nodded, since I was sick of talking and hearing about my brother, too. But I doubt anything could get me down in this moment. "So…refresh my memory on the play we're making with Pyramid Pharmaceuticals." I left my arm draped around Maggie, yanking her into my side.

Anthony stared at her.

"It's cool," I said.

He nodded as the waitress brought his beer. "We own 400,000 shares…propriety at sixty cents. We trade on bulletin board—OTC."

"OTC?" Maggie whispered.

"Over the counter," I answered, facing her.

"Oh." She relaxed back, nodding like she had a clue.

Anthony grinned at her before he continued. "Does this interest you at all?"

She shook her head no. "I was just curious."

I laughed, facing Ant. "You don't know shit just yet either."

He rolled his eyes at me, and he's been doing a piss-poor job at the brokerage. My cousin—either feels he has to be a hard ass because of his sexual orientation, or he's been watching too many movies, like Maggie—but he's pushing the brokers too hard, threatening, being too fucking persistent when he calls potential clients. "You told me to make you money. That's what I'm doing."

I sighed, sitting up. Maggie wasn't forgotten, but Anthony needed to listen to me—take me seriously. "When you're bleeding a guy, you don't squeeze him dry right away. Contrarily, you let him do his bidding suavely. So, you can bleed him the next week, and the week after that at a minimum. Chill the fuck out."

What they're doing is targeting senior citizens, saying they can make quick cash by getting involved—barely explaining shit. He's making some money, but I don't need any of those fuckers running to the FTC—Federal Trade Commission—and I mean our brokers, too.

"Pyramid Pharm is at 80 . . . When are we dropping the stock?" he asked.

"You'll know that when you need to know that." I sipped my drink.

He stared at me for a beat too long.

"Was there something else you needed to discuss?" I raised a brow.

"Do you?"

"Nope," I said.

He widened his arms. "I came all the way up here just for you to tell me that?"

"You thought I'd confer with you over the phone?" I chuckled. "You know not to talk shop on your cell, correct?"

"What's wrong with your phone?" Maggie asked.

I smirked at my cousin. "Feds try to wiretap our phones and shit. It's best—if we're going to speak about business matters—that we use pay phones, if we can find one, or we stick to prepaid cells, throw-away phones."

She nodded, and I looked back to Ant.

"Be easy—I get it." He nodded. "I don't do shit on the wire . . . Is that all?"

I'd also heard some shit about a Porsche being lifted from the La Bella Italia parking lot. Someone who fit Anthony's description stole it. My father was pissed about it, and we had no idea who was truly behind it. "You know anything about that Porsche?"

He looked around, leaning toward me. "There's a guy in Newark—I met him through Dame, actually. He's paying big bucks for high-end vehicles."

My jaw dropped. "Dame boosted that for Jersey? For dirty Jerz?"

Anthony winced. "It was like a one-time thing. It's not like anyone over here is helping us make any money—with all due respect, I mean. We made a couple dollars . . ."

I pointed—just away from me. "Go . . . you wanna get mixed up with that? We got our own guys who do that shit, too. In fact, talk to your grandfather, Ronnie. You'd make more money with him, sending whips overseas and shit. If two-bit hustling interests you? I'll give Ron a heads up."

"Relax." He put his palms up.

"I'm giving you the opportunity to make bank...in the long run. You want quick cash . . ." I shook my head, although I'd done some questionable shit, too, when I was his age. "You working for those fuckers across the bay . . ." I laughed without humor, trying not to lose my temper. "Are you fucking kidding me? You steal from your own just to—"

Maggie stopped me from flying across the table.

"Get outta hea before we have serious problems." My first instinct was to beat his ass. If it was anyone else, I would have . . . but like my brother, my cousin is just getting used to being involved. Ant isn't even running with a crew, but it sounds like he'd enjoy it. Before they had their falling out the other day, I bet they were conspiring—in it together in some way.

Anthony was fast to scurry out of the booth.

"I can't believe this," I said to myself, and I wasn't sure if I should inform my father. He'd be very upset. Plus, my parents are torturing themselves over that Thanksgiving shit. Dad didn't need to know.

"Shhh." Maggie kissed my cheek. "Just calm down." She rubbed my back. "Whatever it is . . . I'm sure there's a solution."

I grinned, looking up to her. "It's not that simple. They do some stupid shit, get pinched, and then it puts us all in jeopardy."

"Pinched?"

"Arrested." I pushed her hair off her shoulder. "The F.B.I., they try to cut deals, falsely paint dudes into corners, just to get them to spill, rat on someone."

"Your mom told me," she whispered. "That if anyone ever approached me, if they had a badge?"

"Go on." I was smiling and ever so curious as to what my mother might have said to Maggie. It surprises me every time Maggie brings up something Mom has told her. Like, she's looking out for the both of us behind the scenes. Maybe I didn't have enough faith in Maggie, thinking I couldn't tell her some important and yet heavy facts.

Maggie reached into her wristlet. "She gave me this." She handed me my uncle's business card. "She told me not to say a thing, no matter what _they_ said, and to call this number."

"Well, you know my uncle."

"He's a lawyer," she said. "Your mom said that the F.B.I. lies and stuff."

"They do . . . Once we're married that'll change, too. Meaning, they couldn't make you testify against me. Anything I'd tell you, it'd be between us, no one else."

"Yeah." She blushed again, showing me her cell phone. "Bella said that if I got into any other trouble, to call this number." It was Aro's name. "I know you don't like him, so..."

"You call me." I kissed her cheek. "Aro and I, we have beef over other shit. You know that already . . . but if something happened, he'd be there for you. But I'd rather you called me."

She nodded.

"I'll do everything to keep you safe, even if that means not sharing something with you."

"I want you to share with me." She placed her hand on my thigh. "I may not understand, some things might scare me, but—" Maggie stopped, searching my eyes.

And when she looks at me like that . . . I get lost.

I leaned into her, for those lips, and I stopped short.

"Sonny!" Caius shouted, walking over. He didn't even bother to ask, just took a seat. "How you doin'?"

"Decent," I said; meanwhile, Maggie agreed to marry me. I was pissed at my cousin and brother but elated about us getting married, and I also hate Caius, which makes me hate his presence . . .

"I remember this one from Halloween. How you doin', hon?" He reached to shake her hand.

Maggie looked to me for instruction.

I raised a brow, tilting my head, and she shook his hand. "I'm great, sir. How are you?"

"Good." He nodded, sitting back. "You came to check out the zoo? Look at the animals?" he chuckled.

"I was just about to show her the office." I pointed. It was his cue to leave.

"Just stoppin' by to say wassup." He slapped his hand to mine. "Have a good time tonight." He left the booth, toasting his scotch to Maggie.

I sighed, staring at her beautiful face as I dug my phone out of my pocket.

"Who are you calling?" She saw me place it to my ear.

I just smiled at her, and my buddy picked up on the first ring. "Hector?"

"My dude . . . Sonny, that you?" My father has his jewelry guy in Bay Ridge, and I have my own downtown.

"I need you to come to Eclipse," I said. He has his own shop, does platinum casting, and it's all cash deals—he doesn't charge for labor or rob me at retail rates, although I wondered if he had anything I'd be interested in. There was no limit . . . to what I'd spend on Maggie's ring. "Bring your trunks." He's got peddling trunks that he can haul his shit in—original designs and whatnot.

"Can you give me a hint?" he asked.

"Engagement rings."

"Bet . . . I can be there in fifteen—twenty minutes. The B goes right up there."

I nodded, ending the call and turning to Maggie. "My friend is going to be here soon . . . you can pick out a ring."

"What? Now? Seriously?" she giggled.

"Seriously." I pecked her lips. "Whichever one you want—I don't want you worrying about how much it costs. Okay?"

She furrowed her brow.

"Don't worry about it." I wished we were fucking married already.

Since I live in a world where instant gratification comes instantly—it's the name of the game—I wondered if she'd be opposed to flying out to Vegas this weekend, or if she'd want a big wedding . . .

"What kind of ceremony do you want?" I asked.

"Um…" She stared up to the ceiling, a crinkle between her brow. "Kylie would be my maid of honor—it'd be in a church." She touched my forearm, getting excited. "I'd never thought about it before, but Kylie and I planned it all out."

"You did?" I chuckled. "When…would you want to do this?"

Her brows rose. "I…"

"How about a chapel?" I scooted closer to her. "We can be married by this time tomorrow."

She swallowed, like her tongue was too thick. "To-tomorrow?" She seemed unsure suddenly.

"If you don't want to—"

"No," she whispered. "As long as you're there . . . the time or place…" She squealed. "It doesn't matter."

Fuck. I wanted to squeal, too. "You mean that? If I called and booked us on a flight . . . we get the ring, head to JFK—"

She nodded. "I don't care. I love you—I want to be with you, and . . . I know you like to rush things." She took my hands. "But I'm not going anywhere. We can wait and do this right. We can plan and—Santino, I'm here. We don't have to rush."

I had a knot in my stomach. She had me pegged, and I could meet her halfway. "I always want things when I want them." My fingers wove through her soft hair. "We'll go to Vegas and do this…we'll only tell our immediate families . . . and then—a few months from now—we'll plan the wedding you've always wanted. We'll get married again in our church. Hopefully, your father will walk you down the aisle." My heart sank a bit, always thinking Dame would be my best man. "How's that sound?"

Maggie had tears in her eyes. "Wonderful. I can't wait."

"But you don't have to wait." I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. "We can have two weddings."

She nodded. "You need to do this soon, just to have us married."

"And you want a big wedding." I nipped her lips. "We can do both. Right?"

She smiled widely. "Right."

"Awesome." I wanted to dance, my heart full of joy again. Overall, I was happy, only that tidbit about Dame making me a little sad, but oh well. Maybe we'd be talking again by the time we got married here in New York? Who knows?

"Can we sneak into a bathroom on the plane? Join the Mile High Club?" She rubbed me over my slacks.

"Fuck…What do you know about that shit?" I grasped her jaw.

"Saw it in a movie once."

"Right." I turned, capturing those lips again.

"But—" Maggie didn't let me get too far. "Should we go to Vegas now? Be so far away? Even if it's only for a weekend?"

I knew what she was getting at, and I loved that she always thought of everyone but herself first. "We'd be back by Monday. Katie's not due for over two weeks."

At her last doctor's appointment, she wasn't dilated in the slightest. That was on Wednesday. I was confident we could do this. Worse comes to worst, I'd be a couple of hours late. Katie was already being a pain in the ass, talking about the birth, wanting her mother in the room but mine wasn't allowed—fuck, the way she's been acting, who knew if _I'd_ be allowed? The situation was fucked up, and the only one who was making it that way was Katie. We're friends; she's just bitchy.

"Let's go to my office, so I can make a few calls." I left the booth, holding my hand out for hers.

Needing to book the flights and our stay at the Venetian, I didn't waste any time making those calls. Delta had a flight leaving JFK at midnight. Luck was also on our side. I was able to reserve two first-class seats.

While on the phone with my concierge friend, Ana, from the Venetian, Hector came knocking on the door. Maggie was a little hesitant to look, wanting me to pick out the ring, but I was too busy telling Ana of our plans.

This wouldn't be my first trip out to Vegas. I make the trip a few times a year—to simply get away, or to handle business—and she knows me, my likes, dislikes, and she was surprised as fuck to learn I was getting married.

Ana said she'd take care of it all, and all we needed to do was get on the plane. I even told her Maggie's dress and shoe size.

We were to be married tomorrow afternoon, and on a flight back in the evening. We'd honeymoon after our New York wedding—after the baby is born, just after . . . and we'd be married by tomorrow afternoon.

I couldn't get over that as I stared at my girl, smiling wide and looking down at rings.

"See any you like?" I asked.

"They're all beautiful."

I winked, heaving myself out of the chair to get into my safe. "Talk to me, Hector."

"She keeps avoiding this one."

I turned to see a huge princess cut solitaire in his hand.

As I took it from him, I held it up to the light. It was gorgeous, flawless. "What's wrong with this one?" I looked to Maggie.

She shrugged. "It's huge, I mean—"

"We'll take it." I nodded.

"Cool." Hector was fast to start packing up his shit. "I'd wait for the green, but I know you're good for it, and my old lady was bitching when I left."

"How much?" I asked. "I'll have it whenever you're ready—I'll send one of my boys down to you."

He slapped his hand to mine. "For you, thirty-five."

"Sounds good." I walked him out, the ring balled within my fist. As I went to close the door behind him, I was shocked to see Damion stumbling over toward me. "Fuck."

"What?" Maggie placed her hand on my shoulder.

I blocked her with my body, watching my brother. He had a bottle in his hand, wearing the same clothes he wore Thursday. He was filthy, looking unkempt, hair a mess, actual dirt on his face.

"Sonny!" he shouted.

"Go sit behind my desk," I told Maggie.

She was quick to comply, and I stood back to let Damion into the office. "Bad timing, dude. We were just leaving." I shook my head. "I'll have someone drive you home."

He almost fell, but I righted him. "What'd you do-do to her?" He slurred as he pointed a finger, indicating Maggie. "My angel looks like a whore."

I grabbed him by his collar, smacking him against the wall. And I didn't know which word bothered me more, the "my" or the "whore".

"Santino!" Maggie hollered a warning. "Don't! He's drunk!"

My nostrils flared—from anger and his stench, and I didn't give a fuck if he was drunk. "You should go home." My father could deal with him.

"You ruined her—" He started.

"Santino did nothing!" Maggie shouted, surprising me. "I'm sick of you blaming him! The only thing he's guilty of is loving me. Why can't you leave us—leave me alone?"

I didn't say anything, backing off and wondering the same, but I did go stand by my fiancée—making sure that crazy fuck wouldn't get to her in any way.

"You're still gorgeous . . ." Dame fell into the couch. "Trust . . . I'd still fuck you." He guzzled from a bottle of cheap whiskey.

I stole it from him to toss it at the wall. It crashed, the glass shattering and trickling down. "What's your deal?" He didn't need to drink any more. That much was apparent. Sadly, he'd still likely say the same shit sober.

"Don't get upset," Maggie whispered, rubbing my shoulders, and I tried to stay calm. "It's just a dress," she told Dame. "He didn't do anything . . . I don't know what else to say." She stood back.

Her guess was as good as mine. "I should call my father." I lifted my cell, knowing we had just a few hours to make it to Kennedy. This time of night . . . fuck. There'd be no traffic, but I wondered about chartering a helicopter from Pier 17.

Dad told me to have one of the guys drive him home. He asked if Caius was here specifically, as he's likely one of the only guys who wouldn't bat an eyelash to rough Dame up—_make_ him get in a car and go home.

As I placed my phone in my pocket, I looked to my brother. "You have everyone's attention now. You have no cause to complain. You need to go home and sleep this shit off."

"Fuck you." He spat, looking to Maggie. "Fuck her, too—fucking cocktease!"

I jumped at him again, but then . . . something became very clear. "You _want_ me to hurt you, you sad fucker." I held up the ring. "You see this? We're heading to Vegas at midnight—"

"Don't you fu-fucking dare!" He lunged at me, and I was fast to bring him down—hold him by his neck like I did on Halloween.

"Go home. Get your shit together, and . . ." I was at a loss as I let go of him. For the first time in my life, I had no advice for him. He was such a pitiful sight.

He gasped for air. "You ruined her. She's pregnant, isn't she?"

"I am not!" Maggie exclaimed, and she was correct.

Sure, we've played with fire, but we have yet to get burned. The doctor's office called to say she could start her pills. Everything checked out fine with her blood and shit. And we went back to her doctor's office yesterday, too. Remembering what my mother said, I had her call back and inquire about the shot. It supposedly takes a certain amount of time to work—fuck if I know—but it'd be faster than waiting for the pills to kick in. She was injected at around noon. It only took like fifteen minutes. We were in and out. She only had to see the nurse, and then we drove around to look for Dame some more.

"We love each other!" Maggie hollered. "Why is that so hard for you to accept?"

"You're too young to know what you want," Dame said. "He took advantage—he's _been_ taking advantage. Can't you see that?" He sat up, holding his neck, and I let him talk—ever so curious as to what he had to say.

"I was a kid once, too." He started crying. "I was just-just like you once . . . always so happy, goofy." He sobbed into his hands. "I was just like Maggie, man . . ." He keeled over to his side, lying in a fetal position on the floor.

"Get up." I held his bicep.

"Leave me'lone!" He fought me, sounding like a fucking toddler.

"Come on." I brought him back over to the couch.

To my surprise, Maggie was right next to me and knelt down to him.

"Get away from him." I went to pull her away, but she held up her hands to stop me.

"He won't hurt me," she whispered.

Unfortunately, I wasn't as sure as she was, so I didn't move an inch but placated her nonetheless.

Maggie looked over to Dame, pushed his hair back. "Damion, I know what I want . . . I was lucky enough to find Santino." Her words made him sob even harder, and I didn't understand it—not one bit—unless he was truly in love with her. "Why are you doing all of this? Hurting your parents . . . you put them through so much," she whispered. "You need to make this right . . . whatever happened, that's in the past, and it doesn't define you . . . If you need help, we're all here. We can help you. You're a good person." She placed her hand on his cheek. "I know you're hurting too...and I don't understand. But you need your mom and dad right now, just like they need you."

He sniffled, staring at her and calming down.

"Amelia loves you so much . . . your parents, even Santino and Kylie. You have many people who love you—who are hurting because you're hurting," she continued.

"You're my angel," he breathed.

"I'm not," she said. "I'm just me, a little weird with little life experience, but I'm learning . . . I make mistakes. As it turns out, I'm not fit to be a nun." She turned back to grin at me, and her smile was contagious.

I rubbed her cheek with my thumb, smiling down at her. "I love you." I mouthed.

She winked and turned back to my brother, who was less than enthused by our interaction.

"You're—you're going to regret it, choosing him."

"I don't think so." Maggie was fast to say. "But if—God forbid—I do? Then that's _my_ mistake."

He turned, burying his face into the couch pillow.

"You'll be okay," she crooned, pushing his hair back.

"All right," I sighed, lifting Maggie by her bicep. "Caius is going to drive you home."

He was quick, reaching out to hold Maggie's leg. "Don't leave me."

With a growl erupting from me, I tore his hand away. "Stop."

He started weeping all over again, and I'd honestly never seen him like this.

The sad thing? I felt very little sympathy—not knowing if this was a game, some ploy, or genuine. I'd been his idiot—cleaning up his mistakes for too many years, being his shoulder . . . and he has no respect, love, or loyalty for me, for my fucking girl.

He'd cried wolf too many fucking times with me.

All I knew was that I had a plane to catch.

"I'd appreciate your discretion." I went over to the safe, placing a quite a few stacks of money in a briefcase I had. Going to Vegas, carrying loot like that isn't very suspicious. "I'd like for Maggie and me to tell Mom and Dad ourselves . . ." I kept my tone business-like. When I turned, he was just staring at Maggie while she hugged herself, looking away. "Hey!" I shouted, making him avert his gaze.

"I won't say anything." He rasped, clearing his throat. "You _are_ beautiful." Maggie never responded. "I'm sorry I said what did. I just like you—who you always are, Maggie . . . I used to be happy . . . happy-go-lucky just like you. If it weren't for that bitch, I could be perfect for you. We'd be us, silly and great, and we wouldn't even have to try hard. I'd let you finish school—we could just be together. I'm sorry. I fucked up. I had my shot and I blew it!" He was ranting.

"Enough." I tucked Maggie into my side. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I spat down to him. "The fucking audacity . . ."

He wiped his eyes, not meeting my gaze.

"I'll see you . . . whenever." There was nothing left for me to say, nothing left I wanted to say.

Tonight, there's another "first time in my life." I had plans to do something for me—only me—and it's just my luck, he has to come at the wrong time.

In the doorway, about to leave and amidst the music, I heard the all too familiar sound of a click, and I wondered if Momo just let him in without passing through the metal detectors.

As fast as I could, I pushed Maggie out of the office, grabbed my nine, and turned on my brother.

He also had his heat raised.

"Don't do it." I smiled. "You're aim isn't too good right now, and I'm going for your dome."

He gulped, dropping his weapon, which surprised me.

Cautious, my gun still raised, I walked over and picked up his nine. "Where'd you get this? One of your future-in-laws?"

"Just take it, or I might do something stupid," he said.

I snorted a laugh. "You're a fucking joke." Even if he felt that way, was suicidal, I doubt he'd have the balls to pull the trigger.

He nodded. "It seems I am . . ."

I placed his gun in my waist, and then mine followed. I'd have to discard of them before we got on any plane. Without any more words, I left my office. Maggie was crying, having seen that small display of stupidity, and I was shocked she didn't ask questions, although I wished she'd stop crying.

Caius was by the bar, and my father had already spoken to him. He went toward the back as we got Maggie's coat. Once outside, we got into the limo, and I instructed the driver where to go.

"We shouldn't do this," Maggie sobbed. "Maybe it's not Damion. Maybe I'm tearing your family apart."

"That's not true," I said. "He did all this—he's _doing_ all of this."

She shook her head. "If it weren't for me…"

Anger bubbled up in my chest. "Do you love me?"

"Yes!" she shouted. "More than I ever thought—thought possible. I just—"

"We're getting married," I said, because I couldn't imagine us not doing so. "We're getting married and fuck everyone else."

She just continued to cry. "We're doing it wrong…and I don't know—"

"Baby . . ." I held up the ring, my heart on my sleeve, and I didn't know what else to say again—beg her to be my wife, plead?

Maggie took in a shaky breath while she also took the ring. "I love you."

Overzealous, I crashed my mouth to hers, my hand fumbling to place the ring on her finger. "I love you, too."

She giggled through her tears. "Are we really doing this?"

I nodded, rubbing my hands up her thighs. "We're doing this. I want this—I want you. You and me forever, and I don't care what anyone says or who has a problem . . . You've done nothing to my family. They adore you, and they all know what's really going on. My brother is causing this trouble. Like you said, you're only guilty of loving me."

"I love you too much it seems."

"That's my problem, too." I grinned, nuzzling my nose to hers.

"Your mom and Kylie are going to be so pissed . . . Most of the reluctance I have is because of other people. You're right, Santino."

"They'll get over it," I laughed, composing myself when I lost myself in her gaze.

As if our minds were one, we started clawing at each other. She went right for my waist, our lips locked, our tongues tangling in a frenzy of a kiss. Maggie tossed both nines onto the floor and unzipped me. I pushed her panties over to the side, and then I entered her—instantly relaxing, the both of us letting out a breath once we were joined.

She squirmed, getting comfortable below me, while I pulled her hips closer. Maggie was soaked already, and maybe it was all the sexual tension—me not being able to keep my hands off her all night.

"Thank you." I lifted her leg, bringing it to my shoulder, my hips picking up a rhythm.

She moaned. "Look at my ring." Her hips moved with me, or she tried to. "Thank _you_."

I groaned, going faster, harder, not able to get enough of her—her pussy.

"Just—just pull out. I don't know if it's working yet." She spoke of her shot.

I shook my head, nearly squashing her to kiss those lips. "We're getting married. It doesn't matter. You wanna have my babies, right?" Whether she got knocked up now, or a year from now, it made no difference to me. She'll be my wife, and I'm not using condoms with _my_ wife. Plus, I firmly believed we'd be fine.

We'll get a house. She can finish school and go to college. We'll get a nanny if we have to. Maggie doesn't realize how easy starting a family might be. She also doesn't know how much I want that . . . how much it killed me to sit there while they injected her with that shit. But it was what she wanted since she'd more than likely get pregnant before those pills even took effect.

"Married," she repeated through a whine, pulling me into her. "Shuddup about babies…you and babies," she moaned. "Harder, Santino."

Gnashing my teeth together, I dogged her out—thrusting as fast, getting as deep . . . "Who makes you feel this good?" Our lower halves meeting had sound effects, a squishy, sexy noise that kept getting louder the harder I hit it.

"You, Santino—oh my God, you." She came around my cock, letting out a cry, digging her nails into my shoulders, and that face she makes . . .

"Good…hmmm." I slowed, going down to her, seconds away from blowing my load. "I love you, baby." My eyes rolled, and I held her hips to me—coming deep inside of her, letting go.

"I—I don't know if I know how to be a wife," she whispered, still panting. "I hope—"

Out of breath, I placed a finger over her lips. "Just be you . . . my Shaky. And we'll deal with shit as it comes along. We'll get a house, settle shit…it'll be great. You'll see."

She grinned. "My hunk-a-man." Her hand palmed my cheek, and then she looked around. "When did the car stop?"

Surprised, I looked over her head—out the windows. Behind us, there was a cab. In front of us, there was a ramp. We were at the fucking airport already. Homeboy in front probably didn't want to disturb us.

"Fuck." I leaned away, tucking my shirt and fixing my pants. "We gotta go."

"We're here?" She sat up, pulling her dress down.

I chuckled. "You ready? Ready to start your life with me?"

She nodded, combing her hair with her fingers. "As ready as I'll ever be."

With a few words to Paul, the limo driver who I'd known for years, he agreed to hold onto the Glocks. Both were useless to me now anyway. He was informed to drop them off with Mike at Eclipse and had no problem—especially with the big tip I'd given him. Speaking of guns, I had Ana scoop me one for the day. It would be in the nightstand by the bible.

Paul wished us luck, told me to bet on black, and then I dragged Maggie along to pick up our tickets, and on to make it to the terminal.

It was rush, rush, rush, but we didn't miss the plane.

"You're sure about this?" I asked once we were on board.

She moved in her seat, grimacing. "I'm leaking."

I winced. "Running around probably didn't help that."

She laughed into my shoulder. "I'm sure—I promise. I just worry about, you know. Not being able to do the wife things? And what if I get pregnant." Her eyes widened. "I'm not ready."

"Don't worry about that stuff," I whispered. "Nothing is going to change . . . We'll just be married, legally . . ." I'd be able to open up a lot more, which was something I was looking forward to. Although I wasn't sure if Maggie would let me unload the heavy stuff on her. I had a sinking suspicion she would . . . "We'll be able to share more secrets."

"I don't have any," she said. "You know everything already."

I nodded. "I do." I kissed the ring as the flight attendant demanded our attention.

"Well, there might be one secret." Tears were in her eyes.

"Whoa." I palmed her cheek. "What's the matter?"

She turned away. "You might not want to marry me—"

"What is it?" I made her look at me.

"The night we hung out—Damion and me—we didn't kiss, but…"

I hated myself, that I was instantly angry and I still didn't know the whole story. "And?" My heart felt seconds away from breaking. "What happened?" I held her jaw, pulling her closer to me.

She searched my eyes. "He had me touch myself, and then he licked my finger. I hate that I would have, would have done more. It was before I knew you. Nothing else happened. We didn't kiss." She rushed out.

I nodded, although it pissed me the fuck off. "He's tasted you."

"Before we got married…I felt you had to know."

I didn't even have to think about it. "Still doesn't change anything." I kissed her palm, which made Maggie light up again.

"But I do worry about the baby thing . . . I don't want to be pregnant at prom." She snorted. "We keep doing what we're doing—" She held her stomach. "Nothing is 100% percent, and I'm paranoid. I know the roles. I'd go to school, cook dinner, keep the place tidy, and if I got pregnant—we'd have a baby." She rambled, bopping her head with each point she'd made.

"Maggie, baby, nothing's gonna change. It's still you and me, and I don't want you worrying about roles or whatever. Just be you."

"I just—I want you. I want to marry you more than anything. I just don't know if I'm ready for—"

"It's gonna be exactly like how things are now. Only we get jewelry, and we have our union on paper. There's no divorce…" I cocked a brow. "How do you feel about that? Not being able to divorce me?" My stomach was in knots again. 'Cause she's not allowed to divorce me. No fucking way.

"Why would we divorce?"

I yanked her into my side. "We're not."

"Cool." She settled down.

When the seat belt sign went off, I took Maggie to the bathroom. We never went in to fuck, but there's always the flight back.

I'd ordered us some cranberry and vodkas—to toast our love, figuring she'd dig the sweetness of the drink.

She took a sip and then knocked out—fell asleep in my arms. We had two seats, but we shared one, and I placed a blanket on top of us. She slept and I watched a movie. It was nice, and I hoped she slept through the entire flight, so she'd be rested for later on. To my surprise, I fell asleep, too.

Even more surprising than that, was waking up when the flight attendant wanted Maggie back in her seat.

We were landing.

I wasn't nervous as we left the plane, but I could tell Maggie was. "It's just us," I said as we approached the driver holding the "Cullen" sign. He inquired about luggage, and I dismissed that.

Maggie was quiet during the ride, and I was too busy kissing her—her lips, her bare shoulders, her neck. She'd sigh and smile. I was just doing anything I could to calm her. And I couldn't believe I wasn't nervous—Santino Cullen was getting married. I was excited as fuck, believe it or not.

"I'm hungry," she whispered.

"We'll get room service . . . they have great breakfast." It was actually about three o'clock in the morning, but with the time zones and a little jet lag it felt like six a.m. "We'll eat, sleep some more . . ."

She nipped my earlobe, a short giggle escaping her. "I slept . . . We'll eat, and then . . ." Her tone was almost too suggestive.

I bit my lip, trying to behave myself in this limo.

When my phone vibrated in my pants, I wondered who'd be calling so early. It was my father, and I debated picking up the phone. I did, but it almost went to voice mail. "Hello?"

"We're at the hospital—"

"What?" I shouted, thinking it was just my luck again.

"Your brother." As soon as he said that, I calmed a bit but not really. "He passed out—alcohol poisoning." His voice was filled with emotion. "They're doing everything they can…"

"Is he going to live?" I asked.

"What happened?" Maggie placed her hand on my forearm.

I shook my head, waiting on Dad.

"The alcohol has to leave his system . . . he has an IV . . . is on oxygen. They said he'd be okay."

"Cool." I slumped back, my heart rate slowing down.

"We're all here . . . I had Aro pick up Kylie and Gio. Where are you?"

I clamped my eyes closed. "Vegas—"

"Sonny . . ." He paused.

I licked my lips, and _now_ I was nervous.

"I don't know what to say . . . I guess you went out there to get married, which was very fucking selfish!" He was shouting now. "What about—"

"We're going to plan a big ceremony—in a few months. It'll be big. I just—I needed this."

He was quiet on the other end while I waited for him. I'm an adult. I didn't have to explain anything. Sure, it was probably selfish that I didn't care all that much about Damion—that we essentially ran away to Vegas without all of them. "Don't tell your mother," he said. "She'll be heartbroken she missed it. Tell her . . . when things slow down."

"I can respect that." I blew out a breath. "Dame's gonna be okay?" Either way, we'd get married and head straight home. That was the right thing to do.

"He has to detox . . . he'll be fine."

"We'll be home later tonight—"

"Don't rush," he said. "Enjoy yourself." That response surprised me. "You gotta do what you gotta do, man. I get it . . . Congratulations." Dad sounded like he was crying. "I do wish we were there, though. Your mother always wanted to go to Vegas."

"Dad…" My voice broke.

"I love you . . . I don't know what else to say." He chuckled and I heard him sniffle. "My Sonny's getting married . . ."

I grinned. "He is." I lifted Maggie's hand to kiss her palm. "To a girl he loves so much." I winked my fiancée. "And we're going to live happily ever after—"

"Okay, stop. This is getting too puss for me," he continued to laugh.

"You're probably crying like a fuckin' baby." I smiled so wide.

"Fuck you." That was more like the Skip I knew. "Take your time, so I can surprise you—something good has to come out of this weekend. Oh, say hello to our cousins—"

I rolled my eyes. "Anthony Maisano—that old fuck parties too hard for me," I lied. Every time I come out here for business, I manage to have a wild time at Dawn, one of the biggest strip clubs on The Strip. I wouldn't be doing that during this trip, though.

"Hey, the Maisanos always treat you good, right? Make an appearance. Send Juniuh my love—whateva the fuck."

I chuckled. "All right."

"Thanks . . . You managed to make me forget where I was for a second."

"Dad," I whispered.

"Damion keeps scaring the fuck out of us . . . Your mother lied."

"What?" I asked.

"She said it was a suicide attempt, knowing that after he woke up, they're going to keep him—a seventy-two-hour hold in the psychiatric ward." His voice rose. "My son in the fucking nut house. I don't know who's crazier . . ."

"I think it's a smart move," I said. "He'll keep his mouth shut about certain things—I don't think you have to worry . . ."

"They're not holding him," he laughed. "As soon as he's better, I'm signing him out, and we'll drive up to Platts—just him and me, and the outdoors. We'll settle some shit, so we might not be around when you get back, but that's okay . . . You want money or a house?" He was rambling, all over the fucking place.

"Dad . . ." I didn't know where to start, finally feeling guilty and selfish, wishing I was there for him. "Go be with Mom. Don't worry about me."

"Right, right." He rushed out. "Damion will be okay."

I nodded. "So will you . . . and Mom." I swallowed, my throat thick. "Don't tell Kylie either. I'm sure Maggie will want to."

"You got it." He ended the call, but he was fast to call me back. "I love you, and congratulations."

"Thank you—I love you, too." Then he hung up again.

"What happened?" Maggie asked.

I sighed, staring down at my cell. "Dame—he was admitted to the hospital with alcohol poisoning."

"Oh no!" She gasped. "We should go back—"

I shook my head. "He's going to be fine. We're fine here. Look." I pointed out the window. We were finally on The Strip. "Sometimes, in life, baby," I whispered, my lips touching her ear, "we have to worry about ourselves." It was true.

I was tired of worrying about taking care of my brother. If there was a chance he wasn't going to make it, I'd rent a private jet to get us to New York as fast as possible. But that wasn't the case.

"It's not that easy." She turned to me. "Before I met you, I was ready to lead a life of poverty, chastity, worrying and caring for others, not myself . . . devoting my life to God. That's not easy for me, so yeah. I'm worried for your mom, thinking we should be there. Kylie!" Her eyes widened, digging her phone from her purse. "She's probably scared."

I put her hand down. "Everyone is fine . . . and I love that about you—that you're selfless and giving. Christ. I love everything about you. But no worries. Dame's gonna be fine. Let's just get through 'til the afternoon. Then, when we're on our way home, you can call whomever you wish."

"Did you just say whomever?" She snorted, nestling into me. "I am fine . . . I just . . . your brother's like a jigsaw puzzle."

I kissed her cheek as we pulled up to the hotel. "I'll talk to the concierge—see about us doing this earlier."

"I'm sure whatever you have planned is great." She left the car ahead of me. "This is crazy . . ." She stared up to the sky, twirling in a circle. "Oh my God . . . I am selfish—too selfish to be a nun," she whined. "Why do I love this place?" She kept turning, and I laughed.

"You're not a fucking nun . . . you're going to be my wife." I lifted her, holding her to my side.

She giggled, and I loved that smile.

Even if I wasn't as carefree as I was earlier, I was still happy.

When we finally got up to the Honeymoon Suite, I texted Dad our information—just in case he needed to get ahold of us.

Maggie gasped and ran to the bed where a white dress was laid out for her. "This is for me?" She held it to her chest. The dress was a cream-colored silk, sleeveless, and trailed down . . .

"Wow." I couldn't wait to see her in it.

"These are the shoes…" She held up a silver pair of high-heeled sandals. Ana really has great taste, I thought. "Look . . . you got me lingerie, too?" She raised a brow, grabbing a white corset and matching thong.

"Put it away." I'd ask her to try it on now, and with my luck . . . I'd jizz on it.

She giggled, running to the closet and hanging it all up. "There's a tux in here for you." She showed it to me. "Shoes . . . boxers?" She showed me the briefs. "Where's the itinerary?"

I grabbed the folder Ana left for us and sat on the bed. Maggie crawled toward me and bit my earlobe. "Sorry."

I put my arm out to hug her to my side. "We're to be at the chapel by noon . . . It's here in the hotel." I realized we needed wedding bands, and clothes, and a few more things I forgot to ask Ana for. "Are you tired?"

"Not really. I need to shower and—"

"We can do that later . . . we have a few things to do." I gathered her into my arms and left the bed.

**_/=/=/=/=/_**

Our wedding bands were modest—platinum and simple—and Maggie's matched her engagement ring. And she kept showing me her hand, which was the cutest fucking thing ever. I loved it, and then we shopped, got breakfast, and wasted twenty dollars in a _Wizard of Oz_ slot machine. Maggie had never gambled before.

Then she said a prayer on our way back to the room . . . likely for her heathen ways. But I had news for her. I planned to hit it in the shower, so . . . praying was moot. After we get married, she won't have to say a prayer for fucking me. That's gotta be a good thing. No one ever went to hell for fucking their husband.

Once we got back to the room, she made me pray for Damion with her, and I complied, happy to do so. I'd also called my father. My brother was doing well, would be staying for observation; however, my father was adamant about not admitting him to the psychiatric unit.

Maggie yawned, breaking me from my reverie. "Now I feel tired."

I scooted higher up onto the bed, widening my arms, and she crawled into them smiling. "We have no time." But I wanted a minute, just to be with her. "You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely." She placed her lips to mine, and she was fast to straddle my lap. "All this wedding stuff . . . it makes me horny."

"Me too." I grabbed the hemline of her dress, bringing it over her head. "We should do this in the shower—two birds, one stone." I went for her bra clasp and then groaned when I saw my tits. Soon, they'll be mine forever.

She palmed my cheeks, stopping me. "I'll shower . . . wouldn't it be fun to wait until we're married? That's like…two hours from now." Her eyes widened. "I need to get ready!" She jumped off me so fast, she poked me in the eye. "Crappity-crap-crap," Maggie sang, running away.

I held my face, smiling as I watched her go.

But I wasn't going to let her get away from me that easily . . .

I couldn't wait the two hours. After we were freshly showered and fucked, I lay in the bed, watching her get ready. Everything she did . . . she was gorgeous, and it was only going to take me ten minutes to don the tuxedo.

"I feel so lucky," I told her. Maggie had her hair swept to the side in a clip. Her cheeks were rosy from my words, the dress fitting her like a glove, showing off her hourglass figure. The silk was smooth, flowed down to her ankles. "You're gorgeous."

"Stop…you're gonna make me cry."

Since I definitely didn't want any of that, I grabbed my tux from the closet.

Dressed and ready to tie the knot, we were congratulated by everyone who saw us—who knew what we were about to do. Maggie and I both wore smiles, and I was the happiest I'd ever been in my life. It was a surreal feeling, and it was another one of those times . . .

"Are you ready?"

"I've been ready," I said.

The chapel wasn't like the rinky-dink places on TV, where Elvis is standing at the altar and _Love Me Tender_ is sounding from the speakers, and there wasn't a mess of people on some line. It was pretty, decorated in white ribbons and flowers, and there were pews, which were sadly empty. Ana had arranged for witnesses, and we had the marriage license. The minister asked us if we had vows planned, but we didn't. We were content with just getting married.

Before I went to the altar, I promised we'd write our own later, recite them in front of our families.

Maggie walked toward me, a bouquet of flowers in her hands as this old woman played a tune on the piano. It wasn't a song I recognized, but it was pretty, and listening to that, and seeing Maggie—my love, who would always be mine now—walking to me . . . my eyes stung with unshed tears.

I didn't feel badly letting them fall, and I was fast to squeeze her hand.

The minister said his piece.

We repeated his words, the both of us saying "I do" in the end.

All while I stared at my Maggie, not wanting to take my eyes away from her.

When I kissed my bride . . . it was the single, most exciting, most erotic kiss I'd ever had.

And it was with my wife.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**I was nervous about this chapter, knowing some of you would hate it. And as someone who knows ALL TOO well what it's like to take care of a sibling most of her life . . . Sometimes, you have to do things for yourself. I know from personal experience that you can't save everyone. Just like you can't please everyone. If you live your life FOR someone else, put yourself/your happiness on hold to hold someone's hand through life . . . you're not really living, are you?**

**Oh well . . . I don't expect everyone to see Sonny's side of things. In the beginning, he does express that he can't understand Dame's mindset, and . . . Whatever. No matter what I say I find it interesting that you all take someting different away from my words. Some of you get it, while others see/read into what they want, and that's great - the beauty of an individual mind. **

**The sequel to Cara No's Grand Tale, entitled Grand Vendetta is coming soon. Be on the look out for it! **

**Note:** I know nothing about stocks. Although I changed it up, I used some dialogue from The Sopranos during Sonny's talk with Ant. Although I hope that doesn't discredit me. LOL. Trust that I always give credit where it's due. Thanks again for reading.


	27. Blazing Guns

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

******I spend way too much time addressing the haters. I'm done with it. You rock on, and so will I . . . I'll continue to post my story the way I want to. Thank you! It's comical - someone throws a temper tantrum and what? I'm going to change plot points to suit someone who insults me? LOL. Get outta hea with that mess!**

**THAT was not aimed toward those who shared their views and/or disagreed. I do not find those reviews offensive AT ALL. I have people insulting MY character now, bullying, people who don't know me. **

**Since FFn no longer allows us authors to disable anon reviews, I've started to blindly delete them. People hide behind anonymity to leave me insults because they're cowards. They're getting deleted. I apologize to those of you who don't log-in but wish to leave me encouraging words and/or feedback. I'm sorry for that. **

**Lastly, I wanted to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who's still with me, who've been with me since the beginning. I can't thank you all enough. I don't know if I thank you guys enough. LOL. I wish I could reach through and give you all a hug. **

**THANK YOU!**

**Also, you're getting this early because . . . the news about this storm is scaring me. LOL. **

**Oh, and I'm not sure what kind of warning I should give for this chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Blazing Guns**

**Edward POV**

_**N**_o matter what I said, Bella wouldn't leave the hospital. She looked like shit, recently catching a cold. Not eating or sleeping was wearing on her as well. My wife wouldn't listen to me, and I needed her to hit the bricks—leave the fucking hospital.

After having a lengthy chat with Damion's doctor, I was told my son would be waking up—and staying awake—soon. He's not in a coma, nor is he sedated. Dame was sitting up in bed for two hours earlier.

The alcohol is out of his system. The way his doctor explained it to me, they're battling electrolytes and monitoring his breathing—just in case, and both are under control, balanced and even.

He'll be getting discharged in the morning—from the medical doc. But before he leaves, he'll be going for a psych evaluation . . . as per Bella's request, thinking he tried to off himself.

I didn't want that, and I knew my son wasn't trying to commit suicide.

He drank too much—did some dumb shit.

By now, my son knows he's in the hospital, which is . . . it might be like a vacation. He knows he fucked up, and as soon as he's better . . . he'll have to deal with all his misdeeds.

Either way, there wasn't going to be a psych evaluation or a seventy-two-hour hold.

Fuck that.

And I was going to sign him out against medical advice tonight, before nurses or other personnel inquired about anything—before Bella can intervene.

He's not a fall-down drunk. He'd just been binge drinking for the past three days, that I knew.

Amelia stopped by, too—a crying, pitiful mess. She came with her father, and they spent most of yesterday by his bedside, which was bullshit. Amelia laid it on thick with the tears—a little too thick, since she knew he'd be okay—and she had the sunglasses, hair looking perfect, like some movie star.

Bella told me Amelia might be pregnant, and maybe that was my problem. Earlier in the week—_which feels like years ago_—when Damion asked for her hand in marriage, I inquired about the baby issue, like when they'd be having a few. My son told me children did not interest him.

Amelia was on the pill.

Sure, people get caught out there all the time. But was the bun in homegirl's oven some type of insurance policy for Luke?

I can't help it. It's the way my brain works . . . I overthink and question everyone's actions unless I know they're genuine—trust them to some degree.

_Carlisle once said, that if being a wise guy didn't work out, I should have been a detective._

So, on top of everything else—_everything_ else—Shorty's most likely knocked up.

It seemed like we couldn't catch a break—not where this kid Damion was concerned.

Since Thursday, we've just been dealing . . . There wasn't much we could do, and Bella got sick.

We just chilled out.

That next morning—Friday morning, we woke up to Kylie in our bed. Thankfully, we had the comforter over us. The night before . . . well, we'd gone to bed naked. Anyway, Kylie was excited to tell us of her and Gio's plans to go to school here in New York.

I . . . I was so happy.

Amongst the garbage and turmoil, our baby wasn't leaving. She was one less thing I'd have to worry about. Bella was happy, too—she was staying close by and going back to school. And, hopefully, she'd live at home and commute. Nothing is set in stone, and no actions have been taken just yet. They just decided, and Gio's going back to Texas tomorrow.

Sonny called me a few hours ago. They got held up—being so excited after the ceremony, of course. Sonny and Maggie tied the knot yesterday afternoon. They went through with it and are actually on their way home as we speak. And I was so happy for my son . . .

Not able to trust many with my future plans, I felt badly for tearing the newlyweds apart. But they have their whole lives to fuck and make goo-goo eyes at each other.

I needed Sonny, and he was to meet me at the hospital at five—soon, actually.

It's Monday afternoon, and all this shit . . . everything happened from Thursday on.

Dame hasn't even been here for a full forty-eight hours just yet, and it felt like an eternity.

"Bella…" I tossed her hair away from her shoulder. She and Kylie had been keeping vigil practically since we brought him in. I felt badly for baby girl, that she was devoting what was left of her weekend with Gio to her mother, her brother. Kylie was concerned for Dame, but she was truly here for Bella.

Saturday night, Caius rang the doorbell at around midnight and bitched about his knee—said he needed help taking Dame out of the car. I helped him, and my son was out cold, covered in his own vomit. My buddy whined about his back seat, but . . . Damion was hardly breathing.

I thought he'd sleep it off, and then Bella freaked out. She knew something was wrong, having those Mom/Spidey Senses of hers. Caius and I were fast to shove him back into the car and speed to the hospital.

It fucked with my head. There was all this movement going on, and it was a few hours before we were told he'd be all right.

They couldn't guarantee shit. Doctors never can, but the one I spoke to . . . He said we were out of the woods. Damion could have been discharged earlier, and his extended stay is just a precaution . . . because my wife was very insistent.

"You should go home." I bent low to kiss her neck.

Her mouth pulled into a crooked grin. "He's doing good." She sounded nasally and coughed lightly. "Get away from me. If you get sick—"

"I'm not taking care of him!" Kylie shouted.

"Shhh!" Bella was fast to place her finger to her lips.

Our daughter settled down. "You know how you get." She looked at me when she said that.

"Both of you," I said, staring at Kylie. "You—take Mom home. Give her medicine, makes sure she eats." She nodded along with me, while Bella gave me the stink-eye. "Mom needs to rest." I massaged Bella's shoulders.

"Edward—" She wanted to fight me, shrugging me off.

"Ky, go get me some coffee." I dug into my pocket for some cash.

"I have money," she whispered, which was a first.

I looked around myself.

"Um…" Kylie stopped. "This sounds selfish, but can Gio hang out at the house…if we're going home? We'll be quiet, and Maggie just sent me a text . . . She and Sonny—"

"I'm not leaving—"

"Yes, you guys can hang out." I cut Bella off. "Gio's still here?"

Kylie nodded. "So is Uncle Aro."

"Tell your uncle to bring the car around. Get me my coffee, and then Gio can walk you guys down."

Kylie agreed, giving Dame's foot a squeeze. "He's really gonna be okay?"

"Yes," I assured her.

She grinned, blowing me a kiss before disappearing.

I sat on Dame's bed, facing Bella. "I'm taking him out of here tonight—"

"You can't—"

I gestured to Damion. "Doctor says he's getting discharged anyway. I'm taking him up to Platts. We're going to talk and get to the bottom of a few things—"

"My baby." She cried, grasping his hand.

"Mo-mommy…" Damion croaked, turning his head.

"I'm here, baby," Bella whispered, rubbing the side of his face. But otherwise, Damion was still sleeping . . . I think. It breaks my heart, but even sick . . . I couldn't trust him. "I'll talk to the doctor again. I want him admitted. I want him looked at." She brought her voice down even more. "There's something wrong with him."

I shook my head, because I didn't agree with her.

"What if he tried to kill himself?" She sniffled, having a hard time.

I handed her a tissue. "Blow."

She smacked my hand away. "You wanna leave? _You_ can leave. Dame's staying right here and so am I." She wouldn't look at me.

I sighed, exasperated. "At this point, I'm not really _asking_ you. Sonny will be here soon—"

"And where the fuck has he been?" She coughed into her fist, gasped, and hacked some more.

"Listen to yourself." I was referring to her health, not her words, although it was a good interruption.

"Sonny was supposed to find him—"

"Damion is a grown-ass man. He's twenty-four. Just like Kylie has to mature, fucking Dame should too." I rubbed her cheek with my thumb. "And Sonny . . . that's not his responsibility."

"But if Sonny wasn't looking for him, he should have told us, so we could have."

I didn't address those words. "Now, Sonny's going to help me with some shit." I shrugged. "I need you . . . This is one of those times where I need you not to ask me shit. I need you to trust me. You'll hear from us. I'll call you if anything . . . but . . . Bella, please." I grasped her hand. "I'm not saying I know what's best. I have an idea, and . . . I think it'll work."

"What's this idea?"

"_Madonn_!" I slapped my knee. "Why are you being like this?"

"Because you tell me everything else . . . and this concerns _our_ son . . . He needs to stay here, get better. You discharging him—Edward, I don't know if I could forgive you," she cried. "If something happened . . ."

I looked to Damion and nudged his leg. "Yo…!"

He scrunched his nose, his eyelids fluttering. "What?" His voice was hoarse.

"See?" I gestured to him. "He's fucking sleeping it off." She was acting like he was dying.

"My head hurts," he whispered.

"Dame?" Bella was in his face now.

I pinched his toe, and he flinched. "See?"

"Damion, it's Mommy…"

"What?" He groaned.

I held my wife's shoulders. "Bella, look at me."

She gulped, meeting my gaze.

"He's going to be fine. I'll give him plenty of water. I'll make sure he eats. Fucking trust me like you have the past twenty-seven years!"

"Don't fight," Dame said.

Bella leaned over, planting her lips to his cheek. "I love you." She pushed his hair back.

"Maggie…?"

I shook my head, staring down at him.

"It's me, Mommy." She looked back to me. "He's still not right."

"Asking for Maggie?" I cocked a brow. "No, that sounds about right. Bella, please." Maybe I was a dick, but I pulled her away from him.

"I'm back." Kylie had my coffee in her hand.

I took it from her, ushering Bella into her side. "Go home. I'll be in touch." Bella was less than enthused when I kissed her.

"In touch?" Kylie asked.

I didn't say anything. I just stared into Bella's eyes, pleading and begging her to trust me.

"He better—"

"He'll be fine," I promised.

"You better—" She waved her finger.

"I'll call you—every few hours, I'll call you."

Her lip quivered.

"Mommy?" That made Kylie tear up.

"All right." I chuckled. "You two . . . youse need to go."

"I hate this," Bella told me.

"If you didn't? I'd think it was weird. Okay?" I nipped her lips again.

"Maggie and Sonny are here," Kylie whispered. "She's wearing this Dior pantsuit . . . I love it. I hope she lets me borrow it." She sipped her tea and then drooled on herself. "Hot."

I laughed, reaching to rub her cheek. "Send your brother in, but take Maggie with you guys," I said, walking out into the hall. It took a minute, and then they followed me. "It'll be okay."

This time, Bella pulled on my shirt—pulled me down to her and gave me a great big smooch. "There . . . Now you'll get sick and come home that much faster." She turned her head to sneeze into her elbow.

Wearing a smile, I kissed those salty, booger- and germ-infested lips again. "Now I'm counting on it." Okay, I'm a horrible patient, and every single member of my family loathes when I have so much as a cold. I can't help it. I was born that way.

She sighed, linking her arm with Kylie's, going toward the visiting area. Bella knew she needed to leave. A nurse approached her earlier with a mask, telling her to put it on. My wife sounded like she needed a bed—a room in this hospital, too—and she was doing no one any good by being here. It was for herself—her own peace of mind.

But she was overreacting.

They said he drank too much, and people do die from alcohol poisoning. I knew that, but Damion's case wasn't that dire.

With my coffee in my hand, I walked over to Damion's bed. "You putting on some act?" I asked.

He cleared his throat, and he was likely awake for the past fifteen minutes. "No."

"Why'd you do this?"

He shrugged a shoulder, kept his eyes closed. "I was just drinking . . . I just kept drinking." His face crumbled. "I—I wanted to feel better."

"Shhh." I put my coffee down and got in bed with him. "Don't cry."

"I'm sorry for everything."

"I know," I said. "And everything's going to be okay, but you gotta be straight with me."

". . . promise." He took in a shaky breath.

"We're leaving tonight . . . We're going up to Platts—"

"No!" he shouted, waking up a lot more, practically sitting up. "Don't make me go there, please." He hadn't been up there for . . . for over a decade. I was surprised he even remembered it. He sounded scared shitless, though.

"Yes." His reaction sealed the deal even more.

"I thought you sold it—"

"It's just a house . . . on a dirt road in the woods. It's _just_ a house." My words were hushed and soft as I rubbed his bicep. "Damion," I hugged him tightly, like I did when he was little, "Daddy would never let anything happen to you."

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why he was acting like a terrified child. But I'd be what he needed now, what he might have needed back then, something I might have failed to be back when he was a kid . . .

If it was up to me, my kids would never cry. They'd never be embarrassed or humiliated or disappointed. They'd never get hurt. They'd never feel an ounce of pain.

That's how much we love them.

One time, Bella said this to me. Her exact words were, _"I wish I could place all three of them in a bubble for safekeeping, someplace where there are no psychos, there's no drugs, or bullets, or anything that could harm them, no danger. I never said it was rational, but that's the way I feel."_

I feel that way, too. She hit the nail on the head.

"I'm sorry," he cried, holding me to him. "I'm sorry . . ."

"Shhh." I kept my lips planted to his temple. "For once in my life…I have someone who needs me," I softly sang, "someone I've needed so long. For once unafraid, I can go where life leads me, somehow I know I'll be strong." I rocked us and he settled down. And I stopped singing, afraid it might made him weep even more.

After a few quiet moments, I said, "I remember Mom singing that to you a few times—trying to get you to sleep when you were scared."

He didn't say anything, burying his head into my chest.

"I love you . . . We're so—so sorry we couldn't protect you." My voice broke, tears falling from my eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there—that I didn't try hard enough, that I didn't . . . I fucked up a lot." I wiped my eyes. "You know how much we love you."

"It's embarrassing," he whispered. "And now everybody knows."

"Not everyone," I said.

"She stole everything . . . I didn't know how to feel, and I couldn't tell anyone. I just . . . I can't make excuses for why I'm the way I am. That happened . . . plus all the other stuff, and no one understood, so . . . I just . . . I didn't think anyone would care, and I would smile less and less." He sniffled. "And I was tired—after Julie broke up with me. I mean, how many times did I have to hear, 'be a man', 'speak up' . . . 'he isn't right'. I wasn't—being brave or speaking my mind. And . . . I always want people to hurt, like I hurt." He poked his chest.

"Hey."

Looking over to the doorway, I saw Sonny.

"Want me to come back?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Did you bring clothes?"

He held up a duffle bag. "I grabbed stuff for you, too."

I nodded, wiping my eyes and sitting up. "I'll go take care of the paperwork. You . . . help your brother get dressed."

Sonny agreed, taking some clothes out for Dame.

And maybe . . . after we face a few of his fears up in Plattsburgh, I'll take him to a car dealership so he could finally get a whip. That made sense to me now, why he never wanted a car. Because of what happened with Sonny, he's likely been frightened of car lots. Fuck if I knew, but it seemed plausible.

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

It took quite a while for a nurse to give me that damn paperwork, and even longer for them to unhook him from the IVs, and then Dame just undid them himself. There were very few discharge instructions because we were just leaving after signing him out. The nurse urged me to wait until morning, until a doctor looked at him again.

"You guys head up there." My head was in Sonny's driver's side window, and Damion was already in the back seat. "You'll be fine." I reached back, and Dame met me halfway—for once—and squeezed my hand. "I'm going to be right behind you guys."

"Just get in." Sonny jerked his head. "We'll all go."

I shook my head. "I'll be behind youse."

With a few taps to the roof of his car, Sonny pulled out of the parking spot. That was when I saw my buddy paces away. Cautious, I approached him, bumming a cigarette and leaning against his car.

"I hope you know . . . I have eyes on you now."

"Skip, you can trust me," he said. "I'm actually a little offended."

"No one can know about this." I pulled on the smoke, and I'd already given Anton the order to ice _this_ motherfucker. Anton had no idea why he was to kill his friend, but it was a direct order from me. Aro was supposed to see it through and step in if Anton couldn't or wouldn't do it. It's comical—the chain of events.

My excuse was that this fucker had been talking to the Feds; however, I made that shit up.

"I filled the tank and it's a four cylinder. How far you goin' anyway?" He didn't even know where I was headed.

I never answered him.

"Well, you should be good to go," he said.

"Bet." I slapped my hand to his before entering the car.

There was some traffic in Manhattan, and then I got the call when I'd just reached the Thruway.

Brando, Lauren's babysitter, was caught in a drive-by shooting near his crib. Police are swarming his 'hood, and that settled that. And I was impressed—that Anton took care of it so quickly.

I drove the speed limit, and I gave no pigs cause to pull me over.

The ride up to Plattsburgh was tiring and tedious, and I'll be damned if my throat didn't feel scratchy.

With my stereo blasting, I went through a Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru to get some tea with honey.

And then I had a sneezing fit right when I hit Lake George.

Bella fulfilled her wish. I was getting sick already, and that shit pissed me off.

But it was to be expected . . . It's not like I've kept my distance these past few days. That recent kiss wasn't the cause either. I've been on my way to having Bella's cold since Thursday night.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I left the car, quick to stretch my legs once I'd arrived.

Damion and Sonny were sitting on the porch. They had no lights on to indicate their presence, but I saw them when my headlights glazed over their faces.

"We just got here," Sonny said. "We waited." He gave a brief glance to Dame, which made me think maybe he just didn't want to go inside.

That was when I heard it, a thump, a muffled scream.

"What was that?" Sonny asked.

For the first time since I concocted this plan, I felt nervous—wondering if I was fucking Damion up even more.

"Were you followed?" I raised a brow, ignoring my trunk and walking up onto the porch.

"No . . ." Sonny stared at the car. "Who's—" He stopped talking, and my eldest knows me all too fucking well.

"You should quit smoking." I grabbed a cigarette from Dame as his cell vibrated in his hand. "Who's that?" I jerked my chin.

"Amelia . . . I don't know how she knows I left. Maybe she called the hospital."

I nodded. "She did that yesterday—asked Mom if it was okay she was informed of your progress when she called." I sat on the steps, bristling at the cold. "You put the heat on?"

"Opened all the vents, too." Sonny nodded and hit Dame's leg. "Shut off your cell."

"Why? I'm not going to answer it. I told Amelia how I felt—fuck her."

"Shut it off . . ." He gave me a wary glance.

Damion showed us his phone as he shut the power down. "Happy?"

"Yours, too." Sonny smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Mine doesn't even have GPS activated, but okay."

"Who's in the trunk?" Sonny asked.

"Trunk?" Damion whispered. "There's some fucker in your trunk?"

Nervous, I stared back at them. "Lauren."

"What?" Their faces mirrored each other's and they spoke in unison.

"Whoa…whoa…whoa." Sonny waved his hands. "I knew Mom might go nuts and clip her, but—"

"You can't save her. It's done," I told him.

Sonny shook his head. "I really . . . wow." He held his forehead, standing up to pace. "People are going to notice she's gone. What—"

"I had someone pack her bags," I whispered, "load them into her whip, and leave it at the Port Authority—a side street."

"Oh, and that doesn't scream mob hit." Sonny snorted.

"No body, no crime," I sighed, looking to Damion. He hadn't said anything so far. "I always told you . . . face the world guns blazing, face your fears."

"I remember," he mumbled.

"You ice her, and then we're done—you hear me? You let go of the past, you move on. Karma is a bitch, and she has this coming." I pointed to the car, hearing Lauren kick and scream. That satisfied me. Plus, knowing she'd been in there for six hours already . . . tied up, duct tape on her mouth, drugged up . . . she probably woke up when I was halfway here.

Brando was only supposed to shoot her up with a little bit of dope, that's it, which . . . high on heroin, in a fucking trunk—that's gotta be the worst kind of torture.

"Dad?" Sonny tapped my shoulder.

I tore my eyes away from the car. "Yeah?"

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack," I answered.

"I'll do it," Damion agreed.

"Bro." Sonny held his shoulders. "This isn't going to help you."

"Shut up," I told him.

"How is this going to be beneficial? He's all fucked-up right now." Sonny was getting heated, his voice rising. "He needs to chill the fuck out, heal. I don't know, but this..."

I pointed to myself. "Then I'll do it, but he needs to know she's gone—she doesn't get to hold this over him. He doesn't get to be her victim anymore. Understand?"

Sonny sighed and Damion kept his head down.

"I gotta pee," Dame said, standing and going toward a tree.

"In the house." I jerked a thumb. "It's _just_ a house."

"Come on." Sonny put his arm around him, ushering him inside.

I looked up to the stars, swearing that—in my heart—this was the right thing to do, for a fucker like Damion, for a fucker like me . . . if it _was_ me.

A few minutes later, I trailed into the house after them. We never turned on any lights, but Sonny was quick to approach me with a half-eaten bag of Fritos.

"These are still good? You came up here recently?"

I laughed. "When I went away with Mom…"

"Oh…" He nodded, tossing them back into the cabinet. "I was just looking." He leaned on the counter. "This place . . . it brings back a lot of memories. Last time I was here . . . I was eleven. That fucker was like eight. I can't believe he remembers."

I shrugged. "Me neither . . . Apparently, he remembers a lot of things. You ever feel fucked because . . . you know?"

He shook his head. "I knew when I was little—because you guys kept telling me. Youse were doing shit for my own good, for our protection."

"It's true," I whispered.

"Wow." Damion came back into the kitchen with a pillow that had a Spiderman case. "This was mine." He wore a hint of a smile. "It's dusty as fuck, though."

I chuckled. "It's not like we pay a groundskeeper. Your mother tried dusting and vacuuming last month…" I trailed off. "But we decided to get rid of it. Too many people know where this place is . . . Now, I guess we have to keep it." I sniffled, reaching for a paper towel.

"Fuck…you're getting sick," Sonny said.

I didn't reply and blew my nose.

My eldest spoke again. "Are we doing this or what?"

I raised a brow, surprised he was so down with this suddenly.

"I don't have a choice." He left us, going out onto the porch.

"Sonny and I can do this," I told Damion. "If you wanna rest..."

He shook his head. "No…"

"Okay."

Since it was dark and I knew where they were, I went to the shed to grab a couple of shovels. From there, I heard Damion and Sonny bullshitting, which surprised me. They were talking about their grandfather—my father—and his fear of spiders. Then they moved onto me being sick. They had jokes, and it was awesome to hear them laugh.

"You hold these." I handed two shovels to Dame. "You…" I looked to Sonny, jerking my head to the car.

He took the keys and lifted the trunk.

Lauren was crying, her cries still muffled, her eyes wide.

Damion peeked over, a look of disgust on his face, but then he quickly turned away—a bit shaky.

"Take her out," I told Sonny.

He stood her up and she collapsed to her knees, and he tried again to no avail. Lauren was weak, couldn't stand, and so Sonny threw her over his shoulder. "Let's go."

I led the way, leading them farther into the woods. Damion stood by me, and I handed him a silenced nine. He took it, holding it with a steady hand, his chin up.

And I hoped . . . prayed to God this helped him let go of the past.

Lauren was a dead bitch anyway. Bella could have done it the other day. I would have done it eventually, but this way . . . it's almost like her death will mean that much more.

In the end, we only walked about a half a mile into the trees. I could faintly see the cars and the house, but it truly didn't matter. There was already a dusting of snow on the ground, and the place would have over a foot of it until springtime.

And by then, she'd be a distant memory. No one would be looking for her, and there'd hardly be anything left but her bones.

A pseudonym no one knows about owns this house. It's the only one for over thirty miles, and I wasn't worried about a goddamn thing—just Damion.

When Sonny plopped her ass down onto the ground, I was surprised. He had hate in his eyes, and I wondered what the fuck she ever did to him. Then again, she was supposed to be his mother-in-law. And I knew he hated her on principle alone for what she did to Dame, or maybe he just didn't give a fuck.

"Whenever you're ready," I told Dame.

Lauren just screamed louder and louder, although we could barely make it out. Then Damion removed the duct tape, which made her collapse. "Scream, and I'll shove my cock down your throat."

I nearly jumped back by the vigor—venom in his voice—that he meant it. That was when I decided to stand down, let Sonny and Dame handle this shit, run this show.

Damion backhanded her, making Lauren fall over again.

"Yo…pop one in her dome, and let's get fucking digging," Sonny said. "But first," he held up a finger, staring down to Lauren, "did'ju touch him?"

She rapidly shook her head no. "Think of Katie—A-A-AJ, G-Gio!" she stammered.

"Fuck AJ," Sonny said. "Answer my question. Did you fuck my brother? There's still a chance." He was fucking with her, obviously.

"He was—" She stared at Dame and then to me. "He—I mean, we did, but—" She fell back when Dame hit her again, but she didn't get up. She lay there and cried.

"She had Mom arrested—on Thanksgiving," I whispered to Sonny, knowing his heart truly might not be in this, but now it would be.

"What?" he asked.

"Fucking bitch!" Damion raised his nine, holding it about a foot from her head. His teeth were clenched together, tears falling down his cheeks, his hand shaking . . .

He paused.

Damion either couldn't or wouldn't do it, and . . .

"Do it," I said.

He threw the nine down, groaning, letting out an agonized cry as he fell to his knees. "I can't keep doing this."

I dropped down next to him. "Hey…"

"She—she—" His wobbly finger pointed to her. "I hate you!" he screamed at her.

Lauren was slowly inching away, her feet still bound. She wasn't going to get very far, but then her head jerked back along with her body, a small whipping noise cutting through the air.

Sonny pulled the trigger.

Awestruck and mildly impressed, I stared up to him.

He was looking down to his brother. "Now we're even."

Damion clamped his eyes shut, nodding solemnly.

"It's over," I whispered, palming his cheek. "Baby, it's all over."

"Why couldn't I—" I think Damion was asking himself that. Meanwhile, I felt it in my heart that if he'd been the one to clip her, he'd sleep even better at night. Yet, I think this way worked out well, too . . . maybe for the best.

"I don't know," I told him. "Lots of cats have trouble icing women."

"Yeah, that's it." Sonny's tone was sarcastic as he heaved the shovel into the semi-frozen ground. "I'm not doing this shit by myself."

"I don't feel good," I said, standing up, taking Dame with me. "You two—get busy." I handed Dame a shovel. He sniffled, wiping his eyes, and quickly got to work. "You feel tired, you stop." I forgot he was out of it, too.

The three of us were quiet. The woods—the area around us was creepy-quiet, and I hate that shit. I'm used to city-quiet, which is a contradiction. The city is never silent, but we were all strapped, so what did we have to worry about?

Sonny's chest heaved as he tore off his coat. "While we're all together." He faced me. "I don't want anyone else knowing about this shit . . . He's already working for Jersey."

I looked to Damion. "What?"

"The Porsche," Sonny said.

Damion refused to make eye contact, focusing on his task. "Another mistake. I'm done with everything New Jersey."

"You sure about that?" I asked, quirking a brow.

He didn't reply.

"This…" I twirled a finger, "was me trying to help you. This was also me trusting you. Can I trust you, Damion?"

"Of course," he whispered.

"No, for real," I said. "You're pissed at Amelia, be pissed at her until you get over it. But as of now, you are done. You're done with everything. I don't even want you drinking—"

"I'm never drinking again."

"Don't let those be your famous last words." I chuckled. "In the meantime, you focus back on school. You do your best. You get your life back on track. You hit rock-bottom this weekend, Dame . . . You should even check out counseling. Do it for yourself or to appease your mother. See a shrink, but you leave my life—the shit I do—out of your mouth."

"I'm no longer going to_ ask_ you to respect my relationship," Sonny said. "She's my wife now."

Damion winced. "Sonny—"

"Don't say anything."

"Congratulations," Damion whispered.

Sonny wasn't expecting that and kept digging.

"Dame."

He turned back to me.

"You can't just write Amelia off. Don't make any hasty decisions. Take your time, think about what you really want." I wasn't going to tell him why just yet. That shit wasn't my business to tell him. Although, I urged Bella to take her to lunch when she was feeling better to see what was really going on. "You've also fucked me and Sonny over how many times? Let's be real." I shrugged and then sneezed. "Fuck."

They both chuckled at me, which was . . . it was music to my ears again.

"Bottom line." Sonny stopped again. "You need to stop being so fucking deceitful. Say what's on your mind, but . . . Fuck, bro. This has to stop. You're not allowed to fuck me over anymore." He snorted. "That ship has sailed. I'll bury you right here. You'll be next to the bitch you hate for eternity."

"Hey!" I exclaimed.

"It is what it is," he told me.

I nodded because he was correct. "He's right."

"Don't take it the wrong way when I keep my distance." Dame held his head.

"You all right?" I asked.

"I'm getting dehydrated—sweating," he whispered.

I peered over, seeing that the hole was quite a few feet deep. "That's good enough."

Sonny used his foot to push her in. Lauren's body made a hollow thumping sound. "I don't know what's wrong with you. I can't imagine what this bitch did to you, how much she hurt you. I can't relate or understand, but everything else . . . Bro, I had the same childhood you did," he told his brother.

"And look at what you just did," Damion was laughing, gesturing to the grave. "You're just as fucked as I am, only you don't know it yet. All of which probably makes you even crazier than me."

"No." Sonny shook his head, but he was smiling. "I don't think so. I just know what has to be done, and I fucking do it."

I pointed to my eldest—not saying a word. He had proper Skip training, and that's why. Maybe he doesn't enjoy whacking fuckers. But when push comes to shove, he's painted in a corner, he has it in his heart, or he'll benefit from it, he'll fucking do it.

"Dame . . . I've been looking out for you your whole life. I'm not your father. Therefore, I don't have to reconcile with you." Sonny's voice was filled with emotion suddenly. "I'm not acting like a pussy either. You hurt me, you betrayed me . . . I'm not so quick to forgive you, but now we're even."

Damion had no reply; he just stared at the ground, and I respected what Sonny said.

"Over time . . . hey, maybe I'll forgive you, but I won't forget." He got busy tossing dirt into the hole. "I'll play nice for Mom—for Dad—but if you fuck me again, God help you. And this isn't a threat. I'm telling you like it is."

"On my life . . . I respect that," Damion replied.

"You don't work for Jersey no more either. You hear me?" Sonny asked, and I dug it—he was saying a lot of the shit I wanted to and more.

My eldest was going to fill my shoes nicely someday . . . He'll probably do a better job, too, since he has logical thinking on his side.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

After we kicked leaves over the grave and covered our tracks, we all bunked in the living room. Their old room was dusty as fuck—having not been used in over a dog's age—and the three of us in my bed? That wasn't happening.

Sonny's big ass took the couch, while Dame and I blew up some air mattresses. He placed his right next to mine.

After we were finished outside, he didn't have much else to say—gulping quite a few glasses of water and snuggling up in the blankets.

Sonny went out like a light when he got out of the shower. But Damion was still awake when I called Bella. She wanted to talk to him, and it was all gravy. We were leaving in the morning, and we were all fine.

"You okay?" I asked him.

He was on his stomach, resting his chin on his folded forearms. "You're a good father."

I grinned. "Shut up."

"I'm serious." His face crumbled and he covered it.

"Hey…" I pulled on his arm.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he whispered. "This sounds corny as fuck, but…it's like I was blind before. I can see how . . . how you've helped me, how Sonny's helped me. I don't know."

"Why couldn't you pull the trigger?" I asked.

He swallowed. "Despite what she did, despite how much I hated her, she was still Katie, AJ, and Gio's mother . . . I just—I thought of them. Oddly, I thought about Mom, too...How losing her was always my biggest fear as a kid." He turned to look at his brother. "What's he going to do about Katie?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Aro knew this day was coming. He couldn't outright agree . . . and I might get approached about her disappearance. I doubt it, though. My ducks are in a row, provided you don't open your mouth." I knew I didn't have to worry about Sonny, but I didn't know about Damion—I wasn't 100%.

"I'll take this to my grave."

I rubbed his back. "You should have told us."

"For a while, it was just—like I thought I should feel lucky, having _gotten_ lucky?" He cringed. "But honestly, I never even thought about sex before that...I hardly knew what it was. Then…days, weeks, even months would go by, and I'd just feel dirtier and dirtier about it. She said your name, so . . . and it made me resent it every time someone said I looked like you. I hated you." He faced me. "Because…it was like she did that _because_ of you." His lip quivered. "I'm sorry I caused so much trouble."

In my heart, I believed him. "I'd never do anything to hurt you. Your mother and I . . . Shit. Your mother was about to pull the trigger the other day. We'd kill and die _for you_, Dame—Sonny and Kylie, too." I squeezed his hand, clearing my throat of the lump, although it might have been phlegm. "Raising youse . . . we did the best we could. We tried . . . And we couldn't be straight with you guys. And Kylie? Fuck. She didn't see a quarter of what you guys did. I'm sorry I couldn't shield you the way I did her."

"I hate myself . . . I did all this shit. Mostly, it was because I was angry with you. I was always so angry with you. I was stupid." He slightly shook his head, his words breaking my heart. I mean, the truth hurts.

"Can we start over? I meant what I said out there. This is over. Lauren is gone—and you need to move on from your past. You need to smell the roses . . . do something," I sighed. "And we need to start over." I nodded. "You and me—we'll be buddies."

"All right." He rasped.

"We won't be chillin' at Eclipse." I raised a brow.

He smiled. "Trust that I won't miss that place." He rolled onto his back. "I've been thinking about Julie . . . life was simpler—"

"Amelia," I said. "With Julie, life was simpler because you didn't really love her. You love Amelia."

"You're right, and I tried my best—to get Amelia to know me, and look what she did?" He snorted. "I can't trust her."

"She did the right thing." I stared up to the ceiling along with him.

"Can you ladies shut the fuck up?" Sonny huffed, sitting up. "I'm eating your Fritos." He scratched his balls on his way to the kitchen.

I threw a pillow at his ass. "Bring me a bottle of water."

Sonny nodded.

"Here." Damion handed me his, which was something—just him sharing his beverage with me felt like a small victory. Last week, he wouldn't care if I was the thirstiest motherfucker alive, or dead from dehydration.

"Thanks." I didn't take it. "I'm getting sick, though."

"How come," Damion laughed, "you kept sounding more and more stuffed-up as your sentence went on?"

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing." That smart-ass shook his head.

"Catch." Sonny had a mouthful as he tossed me the Poland Spring bottle. "Dame, Amelia knows how this shit works, possibly better than you do. She probably told Mom to get Lauren killed." He sat back with the bag of chips. "Us men, we do...our women scheme, get us to do shit, their bidding. Know that fuckery from now."

"Very true." I pointed.

"You think so?" Damion asked.

Sonny made a noise, confirming. "I don't know why . . . but she loves you. Think about it. Maybe she doesn't know Mom that well. But someone hurting one of her kids? To that degree? Amelia knew someone was gonna clip Lauren. All she had to do was inform Mom…Maybe it was sneaky, maybe it was fucked-up, but she didn't betray your confidence for a silly reason. It makes sense." He pointed to his temple.

"She still told Mom." Damion was going to be stubborn, and his voice was laced with that cunty attitude he gets.

"You need time," I told him. "Tell Amelia that. Don't keep her waiting around, 'cause that'll start a conflict for me. And you owe me."

"Right," Damion agreed. "About Maggie—"

"Keep my wife's name out ya mouth. I don't wanna know. Just let it go." Sonny rushed out.

"No," he whispered. "You need to understand. In my eyes, you were Lauren, Maggie was me, and . . . I hope you do love her." He was crying again.

"More than my own life," Sonny said. "More than—more than—"

"…there are stars in the sky." I kept my tone hushed.

"What?" Sonny asked.

"Nothing." I grinned.

"Can you understand?" Damion lifted his head to look at Sonny. "It took me a while to figure it out . . . I was drunk as fuck, had been sleeping in the street . . . I went to Eclipse to tell you that, and then . . ."

"You tried to shoot me."

"To get you to listen!" Damion shouted.

"And yet, you still didn't say shit. All you managed to do was piss me off." Sonny tilted the corner of the bag to his mouth, finishing the Fritos.

Regardless, I loved this. We were all chill. There were no punches being thrown, and we were all talking.

"Answer your brother." I nudged Dame.

"I don't know. I didn't think—I didn't think you'd believe me. I had my wires crossed, thinking the admiration I had for Maggie was like…lust?" he asked us.

No one answered him, not even Sonny.

"We did click…the night we met, but it might have been one-sided. I don't know," Damion sighed. "I'm sure it was." He likely added for Sonny. "I'm not fucking with you . . . she was smiley and giddy and everything I once was." He covered his eyes.

I leaned on my side, running my fingers through his hair, and he stopped, composed himself, relaxing. "Let's go to sleep."

"Whatever your reasons were . . ." Sonny paused. "Just stay away from her."

"I will," Damion agreed.

_**Thank you for reading.**_

_**Please leave me your thoughts.**_


	28. Comfortably Numb

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**Howdy! Long time no see! First, I'd like to thank everyone for all the well wishes I've received. What's important is that my loved ones and I are all healthy and in one piece. I've been counting my blessings all week, but being without electricity for days sucked. I'm emotionally and physically drained from all this (sigh)**

**Sandy tore through here like a drunken whore on crack! F.U. Hurricane Sandy! *waves fist* **

**Those winds were no joke, unbe-fucking-lievable. They shook the house, nearly made me shit my pants in fear. The whole thing was unbelievable. We've (the North East) have experienced hurricanes before, but not to this degree. Wow. It was nuts, completely insane. To those of you who reside in places where this happens often, more power to you! I don't know how you guys get through hurricane season, or volcanoes, or fucking typhoons, motherfucking earthquakes. Any natural disaster, really. Smh. I can handle the occasional nor'easter where we get multiple feet of snow. That other shit? I'm just not built for it. And now I'm rambling . . . It's been a lonely and crazy week, too. LOL. **

**Speaking of, there's a charity compilation that's being put together. All fandoms are welcome to write/raise money and awareness for the victims of Hurricane Sandy. Maybe we can help the Red Cross help those who need it. People lost their homes, cars, lives . . . People's lively-hood, businesses were destroyed. **

**The storm caused about $50 billion in damages (last time I heard), a lot of that in my beloved New York, and the death toll is just ridiculous - keeps rising as they are still finding people. The Jersey Shore is in ruins, too . . . half of Long Island AND Staten Island are under water. Skip's (my) hometown, Bay Ridge, Brooklyn is fucked-up as well, other parts of Brooklyn are under water too. Manhattan, everything below 39th Street is a mess, destroyed. Queens, upstate NY, every-fucking-where from North Carolina to Boston was hit! That's a lot of people whose lives were messed with, people left with nothing. I'm rambling again. **

**I'll be writing for the cause - although I'm not sure what I'll be writing - and I hope you guys go check out the site, see how you can help. ****  
**

**Personally, I've written for dozens of charities - diseases, catastrophes across the globe, and other things - and this one . . . well, I'll be mentioning it for a while since it tore up my own backyard.**

**Alas, I am still here! And that - in and of itself - is something to be thankful for. Everything else, anything material is just that. **

**fandomfightshurricanesandy dot blogspot dot com**

**Thank you very much for reading. I hope those effected have stayed safe and healthy along with their families. God bless!**

* * *

___The child is grown, the dream is gone - Pink Floyd_

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Comfortably Numb**

**Damion POV**

_**F**_or about a week, I kept to myself. My parents called me nearly every day—said they'd cut back on that, as they didn't want to annoy me.

Only, nowadays, them reaching out didn't feel like an intrusion. I found myself wanting them to know I was okay—how school was going.

Amelia was a different story.

I just couldn't get over her betraying my trust.

We were a couple . . . I told her my deepest secret . . .

As soon as we returned to Brooklyn that Tuesday morning, I phoned Amelia. She cried and begged for my forgiveness—said we needed to talk, and I asked her . . . I asked her to give me time, respect my decision, that I needed to work some shit out for myself. We've briefly spoken since then, just checking in, but . . . for some reason, I couldn't just pick up where we left off like nothing happened.

She did what she did. Things changed. I changed.

Then again, my father was right.

It was over.

It was all over, and I needed to move forward, let go of the past.

I've made a lot of mistakes—shit I can't take back, stuff that flowers and an apology wasn't going to fix.

But it was a start.

And maybe . . . maybe if I forgave Amelia, karma would hook me up, and I wouldn't be at the top of my family's Most Wanted list.

Anthony was the first person I called after Amelia. He didn't want to talk to me, although we needed to discuss things—business matters. He met me for coffee a day later. I told him he could hate me, but I was taking a huge step back.

He's always been scared shitless of Sonny, and Anthony told me some things too. He said whatever I had going with Jersey, he wanted no part of. Anthony's hoping to make it onto Sonny's crew . . .

My cousin had believed the lie I told him, why he was down to steal that car and a couple of others. I told him we were all one big happy family now—New York and New Jersey, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

It'd be our asses, and we both agreed to no longer associate or affiliate with any New Jersey fucker.

We parted amicably; however, he basically told me the same shit I said to Amelia. He couldn't forgive me just yet. Now, since we're no longer doing business together, we had no other reasons to converse, and he needed time.

Respecting that, I agreed.

What else could I do?

The only thing I could think of was getting Carlisle and Alex to forgive me. That'd be a start, and then maybe Anthony will come around. From them, I'd move on to Sonny and Maggie.

Actually, my brother and his wife . . . _I still couldn't believe that shit_. They weighed on my mind a lot more.

So, on a Thursday afternoon—with not being able to shoot by Eclipse—I picked up a bouquet of flowers and went to Sonny's crib. The old lady who lives downstairs was trying to get in with her cart of groceries, and I helped her up the steps. Contemplative, I almost went down to ring the buzzer anyway—wanting to be respectful.

In the end, I just knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Maggie asked. She was likely just home from school.

"Damion," I said, which was followed by a long pause. "Is my brother home?"

"No . . ." She made no move to open the door. "He had an early meeting at the club."

"Oh." I nodded.

"He should be home soon . . . said he'd be home for dinner. Um…I'm sorry, but I can't open the door."

"Don't," I agreed, not knowing how I'd feel, not knowing what I'd do, afraid to face her. I didn't trust myself, although I had it in my head that . . . I'd rather die than step out of line again.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Getting there," I said. "I just…I wanted to apologize…for anything and everything I might have said." My heart was beating away in my chest, a fleeting thought coming to mind. The night we met . . . the memories are so vivid. I remembered exactly how she tasted, and I cringed—winced—hating myself again.

"Don't apologize to me," she whispered, and I still heard her. "Santino loves you so much—your whole family does."

"I know." I leaned on the wall.

"He was upset—you weren't there to be his best man."

That made me smile. "Really?"

"Yeah." It sounded like she was smiling, too.

"I wish I'd been there." No matter who he married, I should have been there—at his side, like he'd always been for me.

"He loves me, you know…" She trailed off. "He didn't make me sleep with him, nor did he make me do anything."

I clamped my eyes shut, nodding. "I know that."

When I heard someone coming up the stairs, I stuck my head between the landings.

"Maggie-Mags! Open zee door!" Kylie had a French accent for reasons unknown to me.

"Hey." I smiled down at her.

Her eyes widened. "Damion!"

"I didn't do anything." I rushed out. "Door's closed."

She huffed, running up the steps with a grocery bag. "Open up, chica!"

I stood back while Maggie opened the door. She was wearing her school uniform, her hair in a ponytail, and I averted my gaze.

"Why are you here?" Kylie stole the flowers from me. "These are probably for you." She handed them to Maggie and turned back to me. "We're gonna make dinner for Sonny. I'm going to teach this chick how to cook." She placed her arm around Maggie.

I grinned, walking backward down the stairs. "Have fun…be good and don't burn the place down."

"Mom and Dad are home," Kylie said. "Dad's still stuffy and bitchy. Mom's…Mom." She shrugged, and then she dug into her purse for her cell. "It's Gio . . . his mother went on vacation, and he hasn't heard from her . . . Hello?" She left us to talk on her phone.

"Um." I cleared my throat.

"Thank you." She showed me the bouquet. "They're beautiful." And I bit my tongue before I said she was prettier, or that they didn't compare.

What the fuck was wrong with me? I know what's right. I know I shouldn't—should go to hell for even thinking that about my brother's girl, but what the fuck? It's not like I want to think these things. It's not as if I want to feel this way.

So, while I had feelings for Maggie I couldn't explain, felt this pull toward her, I also thought my brother was being a predator—taking advantage. Now I know he truly loves her, he's not using her, nor are his feelings fleeting. My guess? I guess I was jealous. My brother could have any woman he wanted, and he had to pick her . . .

"You're welcome," I said.

She ducked her head, studying her shoe. "Santino will be home by six or seven. You should come back and eat with us."

I shook my head. "I don't—"

"I think that'd be a good start," she whispered, "a step in mending your relationship." And I wondered if the shit with Sonny and me could ever be fixed, rectified in some way.

"I'm gonna go check on my father. If he's sick . . . I'll call Sonny. How are things with your parents?" I asked.

She puffed her cheeks. "Not very well. They know we're married." Now she wore a hint of a smile. "Your mom cried, and I felt horrible—"

"She knows?" I grinned back at her.

Maggie nodded. "She kinda figured it out on her own, or maybe your dad told her."

"Probably my father," I laughed.

"She wasn't mad, though. She just wished she was there, too . . . My parents—" She swallowed, shaking her head. "Santino feels horrible—possibly worse than I do, and…You know how you wish someone didn't hurt? Like you wanna take that away?"

I nodded even if I couldn't relate.

"My parents' accepting us is something he wants badly, but it's mostly for me. We're silly," she giggled, waving a hand. "Whatever."

"No . . . thank you for talking to me." I blew out a breath, glad for that. "Whatever you wanna tell me, you know?"

She gave me a lopsided grin. "I should put these in water, get to cooking." She smiled brightly. "I hope he likes it—we're making lasagna."

"He's going to love it," I said.

She turned, looking into the apartment. "Kylie says she can cook . . . We plan to follow Bella's recipe."

"Even if it tastes like crap, Sonny will eat it. Not that I think it will taste like crap." I chuckled. "It'll be awesome."

"Thanks." She backed away, like it was time for me to go, and I didn't want to leave. Just talking with her was nice. I haven't really spoken to anyone in nearly a week except for Jordan, a medical student on my team—this was just so carefree and shit, and it had nothing to do with medicine.

"Bye." I held up a hand.

She waved, closing the door.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I started down the stairs, but then the door opened again. My heart felt like it skipped a beat, and I found myself hoping. Hoping for what, I had no idea . . .

"Damion!" It was Kylie.

When I turned around, she was barreling down toward me.

"What's up?"

My baby sister didn't answer me with words. She placed her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I embraced her, holding back tears, and a Kylie Cat hug never felt so good. "I heard you're staying in New York?"

She giggled, hopping up to peck my cheek. "Yup. You're stuck with me."

"Good." I closed my eyes, resting my cheek to her hair.

"How are you?"

"Good."

"Be honest." She poked my chest.

"Numb." It was true, only this was a different kind of numbness than what I was used to.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

The cool December air was still as I walked to my parents' house. It looked like there was a snowstorm coming—not too cold, the streets quiet. The sky was cloudy and the sun was going down.

As I strolled along my uncle's block, I paused, standing behind a tree—peeking to see if there was any activity around or outside his house. When nothing was happening, I decided against knocking on their door. It's true. I'd be looking for Carlisle, but he probably wasn't home. After a minute . . . of creeping myself out, just lurking, I continued on walking. If Dad's sick, Unc, Sonny, and Aro would be picking up the slack.

To my surprise, though, I saw Mr. Sullivan bringing a garbage bag down to his cans.

"Excuse me," I said, hands in my pockets, nervous as hell.

He paused, staring at me.

"I'm Damion Cullen." I put my hand out.

He cautiously shook it, looking up and down the street. "How can I help you?"

"Um…I was on my way home…" I pointed to our house. "I saw you…"

"We're not kin, boy. Don't come around here again."

"Whoa…" That surprised me, too. "Santino's my brother—"

"Are you mixed up in that shite, too?" He shook his head.

"I'm…in medical school, actually."

"Margaret chose the wrong brother." He smiled. "You look like a good kid . . . A fine _young_ man." He appraised me.

It sucked that I kind of liked this guy. "You're making a huge mistake," I said. "My brother loves Maggie so much. Regardless of how he makes his money, which…he owns a nightclub. He's not into illegal activities."

Mr. Sullivan laughed. "Have a good night."

"Wait…" I caught up to him. "Maggie is your only daughter." And judging by his old age, I'd guess they had her later in life. "Soon…I mean, she might be having a baby. Although my brother loves her a lot, you don't know _why _they got married." I shrugged, lying through my teeth, but it got him to stop and listen. "He loves Maggie . . . They wanted to be together, and he did the right thing. They're married by law…" I sighed, not knowing what else to say.

"You and your wife . . . you guys can either accept this, or . . . You can't be happy about losing your daughter. You may not like my brother, but he's a good person. He always does the right thing, and Maggie? You raised her correctly. She followed her heart, which led her to Sonny. You should trust her choices . . ." I puffed my cheeks, rubbing my hands together. A gust of wind shook me, made me even colder, and that was when I saw Pietro's Lincoln parked on the curb. Fuck. Amelia was at my parents' house.

Mr. Sullivan kept his head down. "You wanna come in for tea? It's awfully quiet around here these days."

"Oh…" I thought that was nice of him. "I have to visit with my mother, but thank you."

He reached out to shake my hand again, and we didn't say any more. I felt good about what I did and what I said, though. Maybe getting the Sullivans to accept them as a couple could be my penance.

Instead of going to my parents' house, I walked back up to Third Avenue, intending on continuing to Fourth to hop on the subway. By the time I got to the corner, though, I had a knot in my stomach. All of which made me turn around . . . again.

My feet carried me to my childhood home quickly. After I waved to Pietro, I used my key to enter the house. Biting the bullet, I went straight to the kitchen, where I knew she'd be. Amelia was crying and Mom was soothing her, the both of them sitting at the table.

"Hey," I whispered.

"Damion?" Amelia sniffled and then threw herself into my arms.

_And the Oscar for Best Supporting Female in a drama goes to . . . _

I tried not to snicker and hugged her the tightest I could—having forgotten how wonderful she felt in my arms, her scent, her face, her…everything. "What's wrong?" I rubbed her back.

"Bella!" Dad hollered from somewhere, sounding miserable.

Mom gave me a sympathetic look and disappeared to find my father.

"We, um, we should talk." Amelia leaned away from me.

I dug into my pocket for a cigarette. "Garage?"

She gestured for me to lead the way, only I didn't want her away from me. I missed her. She nestled into my side while I kept stealing kisses—planting them in her hair, on her cheek, but I didn't know where we stood. Meanwhile, _I'd_ made it this way.

"Are you done punishing me yet?" she asked.

I let her go once we got into the garage, fast to light my cigarette, and I felt nothing. All I knew was that I missed the fuck out of her, wondering what the fuck I'd been doing the past few days—ignoring her like some jackass.

"This hurts my heart." She held her chest.

"Shhh." I rubbed her cheek with my thumb. "I know why you did it."

Amelia shrugged. "What good did it do? I heard that bitch went on vacation with her boyfriend."

I didn't say anything.

"Your mother needed to know. You were getting this bad rap…when you honestly didn't know better. You were acting like this confused little boy, wanting Alex's attention. And I didn't know . . . if it was because of Lauren or because you wanted your mother's attention." She sniffled.

I grinned. "You take a semester of psych classes and suddenly you're Dr. Phil?" I didn't mean to sound like a smart-ass, but the more she spoke . . . Once again, I hated myself. Just gazing at her, I missed everything Amelia, but when she tries to analyze me . . . it pisses me off. And I think that would anger many.

"You know I'm right."

I massaged my forehead.

"Can we go back to normal? You know I'd never—never—repeat anything you tell me."

"You already did," I laughed, blowing my smoke into the air. "Did you want one?"

She scrunched her nose, rubbing her abdomen.

"Stomachache?" I asked.

Amelia shook her head, staring up at me as she grasped my hand. "We're—"

"What?" I asked.

She broke down in tears, sobbing, and then she sat on a milk crate.

"Just talk to me," I said, bending low.

She took my hand again, placing it on her stomach. "We're having a baby."

"What?" I acted like I heard her wrong, my gut feeling queasy, although I heard her just fine.

"I know you're scared, but it'll be okay—"

"I'm not scared." I snorted. "I don't know if I want children." Standing up, I started to pace. "You're on the pill."

She shrugged. "Things happen."

"No…you fucked up. You brought up the baby issue, and I shot it down. You did this shit to trap me!" I was pissed, trying to calm myself down. "I was going to ask you to marry me any-fucking-way, and you do this? I'm supposed to trust you?" I gestured to her.

"You love me—"

"Maybe I shouldn't." I chuckled. "I can't believe—"

"You never used a condom. It's your fault, too!" she shouted.

I pointed to her. "Don't raise your fucking voice to me."

Amelia stepped back, putting her head down. "There were two of us in that bed, Damion," she whispered. "I didn't plan for this to happen, but it _is_ happening."

I nodded, even more confused than I was earlier. "I'm not—"

"_I'll_ leave school." She walked over to take my hand again. "It'll be _my_ responsibility. You could go to school, do what you have to do—"

I stepped away from her. "I'm not a fucking monster. If you have my kid, I'll fucking love it and take care of it, my God." I held my head. "And you shouldn't have to leave school."

"It's not like I'll mind. I don't want you to worry about me and school. I told you. When we start a family—"

"I'm telling you, I'm not ready. I don't know if I'll ever _be_ ready, or if I'll ever want one. I knew down the line we'd have to—to make you happy . . . but we're not even married yet." I stared at her, at a loss. "You're only twenty-one. I'm...There's a woman's clinic near my school—"

"What?" Her lip quivered. "No." She rubbed her stomach, backing away from me.

I groaned, wanting to punch a wall or bash my head into it, but I was already nailed to the wall it seemed . . . "How many people have you told?" I asked.

"Our moms . . . your father knows, but—"

"We'll say you miscarried—"

"No!" she hollered. "I won't do that."

"Look…" I had no idea how to continue. "My head is too fucked for this."

"Be a man!" she screamed. "Take responsibility!"

"You mean, fall into your trap like some sucker?" I raised a brow. "What the fuck, Amelia?"

"It's no trap," she cried. "It happened . . . I'm not having an abortion. I'm going to have this baby . . . My dad will help me out—"

"Is that a threat now?" I grabbed her arm. "Get your father involved..."

"Oww," she whimpered.

"I told you once before. Maybe you didn't hear me right. You obviously didn't. What happens between us? It stays between us or there won't be an _us_. Got it?" I seethed.

"Let go," she cried.

"Damion," I heard my father behind us and I let her go. "Hon…Bella's in the kitchen."

"I love you," Amelia whispered. "I just—" She sobbed, collapsing in my arms.

I held her, keeping her up. "Go…go talk to my mom." I didn't know what to say, so the logical thing was to get her away from me before I said anything more.

Amelia wiped her eyes, leaving the garage, and I couldn't even face my father.

"Supposedly, she's knocked up," he said. "You can either be an asshole, or embrace it." Dad came over, holding my face and making me look at him. "Do you love her?"

"I—"

"No. Forget about the shit she's done or might have done. Do you _love_ her?" he asked again.

"I do." I nodded, gulping. "I'm not ready for that."

"We'll be behind you guys every step of the way. But, son, if you don't want this . . . if this is going to make you miserable, decide now so I know what I'll be up against. I told you from jump. If you weren't serious about Amelia—being with Amelia—to not even bother. You swore you were." He poked my chest.

"I don't know." I sniffled. "I don't know anything anymore and I'm sorry."

He pulled me into his arms and hugged me. "It'll be okay."

"She did this on purpose. I told her I didn't want kids—"

"Either way, it's done." He pulled away. "What are you going to do about it?"

I rubbed my eyes, wincing and cringing. "I guess I'll be proposing that much sooner."

Dad shook his head. "Not if you'll be miserable. Not my son."

"I do love her," I whispered, swearing I did. "I just—I guess we're going through some shit." Overall, I didn't want to cause any more problems, and I wanted to be the son . . . be a son my father would be proud of, prove my worth like he's proven himself to me these past few weeks, always being by my side.

"I don't want you to _deal_ with this. Understand?" he asked.

"Over time . . . I'll accept—"

"No." He had an attitude suddenly. "Not my grandchild. You're not killing that baby."

"Whoa." I clawed at my face. "It's not a baby yet—"

"Yo, who the fuck are you to say when life begins?" He gave me a push.

"Dad, I'm not ready for this."

"You don't want Amelia? I'll buy Luke . . . I'll make this right. And she can…do what she wants, but I have a feeling she won't abort it. I'm just saying—"

"What _are_ you saying?" I had no idea.

"How you feel now?" He cocked a brow. "You might think differently when you let go of the petty shit. Regardless of her intentions? She's knocked up, with your kid." He nudged me again, like he was ready to jump at me. "Don't be a fucking coward, Dame. I'm just saying . . . I can make this right, get you out of having to marry her. But you will be a father to your fucking kid."

I nodded, staring down. "I never wanted this. And I can't be made the bad guy when I told her this, and I was adamant."

Dad didn't reply.

"I have over a year of school left, then residency . . ."

"You'll make it work," he said. "You think I wasn't scared?" He snorted, pointing to himself. "I was scared to death…Your mother and I . . . We—there's no reason to sugarcoat—we wanted kids, basically because everyone else was having them. Well, I did. Your mother didn't want children right away. She was terrified—twenty-three…"

"And I'm twenty-four," I said. "I'm still a kid—"

"You're a man. Get that straight."

I blew out a breath. "I'll marry her. We'll get a house . . . I'll try my best. I don't know what else to tell you."

"Good." He nodded. "'Cause I know," he held my cheek, "once you see your baby? Christ, Dame. You don't know what love is just yet."

I felt my face crumble, and I looked down.

"I'm dead-ass . . . You'll fall in love at first sight. And if you truly love Amelia? A baby, no baby, youse'll be happy. You'll work it out."

"Right." I drew in a shaky breath. "_I'm_ terrified, and it's a shock. Excuse me if I didn't react the way . . . other dudes would."

"No, you acted how most cats would—getting caught out there."

I chuckled. "Is this really fucking happening?"

He nodded. "Mom says she goes to the doctor this week—"

"Whoa!" I held up a finger. "She don't even know?"

He shrugged. "She took one of those tests—it came out positive. I haven't seen the test and neither has your mother, which was why I said 'supposedly'. But apparently, women know their bodies." He looked as confused as I was.

"Right." Now, it was like I didn't want to be upset until we knew for sure.

"I believe you love her," he whispered. "I see how much you do, how you guys usually act with each other. You're just going through some shit right now . . . man up. Do what you gotta do, but like I said . . . don't let fear hold you back. If I'm wrong, if you don't love her, let her go. Do what Sonny and Katie are doing." He shrugged, fanning out a tissue to blow his nose.

"How you feeling?"

"Eh…" He sniffled.

I leaned back on Mom's minivan. "I'll do the right thing . . . I'll—"

"You'll apologize…We'll get the ball rolling on this shit. But…if you have doubts? Try to figure that shit out now. Take some time for yourself, think about what you want."

"No." I shook my head. "I'm on the straightened arrow."

"Straight and narrow." He chuckled.

"Whatever." I sucked my teeth. "When I saw her earlier, all I could think about was forgetting what she did…You said it was over, and it is…She did what she felt she had to…I _am_ in love with her. I just—it's going to take me some time to get on this daddy track." I furrowed my brow.

"Well, you probably have six or seven months to process this shit. In the meantime, you smile and be supportive until you truly are. Fake it until you make it."

"What if she—"

"I thought so, too," he said. "But in the end, it doesn't matter _how_ she came to be pregnant."

"Right," I agreed. "I'll go with Mom this week—get the ring, and then they can plan away. I swore I'd stick to school—"

"That's not changing. Luke'll foot the bill for your wedding. Youse'll get that money. You'll be fine financially. You know? All you gotta do is be right in here—" he poked my chest, "and here." He pushed my hair back.

"Yeah . . . thank you." I still couldn't get over this—him, my father—how when I opened my eyes, I truly saw how great he was.

I was correct in my assessment. He doesn't treat me the same way he treats Sonny. He's better with me. He has more patience. He's softer in a way, more understanding and loving. Before, I was blinded by this hate. It stemmed from Lauren, deeply-rooted since I was that young, and it only manifested itself as I got older. I came to that conclusion, that it was the reason why I was trying to fuck him over. Even if I didn't actually know that's what I was doing.

"You know you're my favorite."

I laughed. "I'm beginning to believe that."

He pulled me in for another hug.

Then I stuck my tail between my legs as we walked up to the kitchen.

Amelia either has a forgiving heart, or she truly loves me. She was sitting at the table, cradling her head, while my mother ran her fingers through her hair. Mom gave me this look, as if she was upset—not with me, though. Trust me; I know the difference.

"Hey." I kissed Amelia's cheek.

She sniffled, staring up at me. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know," I lied because I didn't know, and I kept my voice soft and soothing, although I hated it.

For the first time in over a week, I wasn't Damion.

I was playing another role, that emptiness, that weird feeling encompassing my heart once more.

"I love you." She wrapped her arms around me.

"I love you, too." I smiled, nuzzling my nose into her neck. "We'll be okay."

She giggled through her tears, leaning back.

My mother still looked sad, and I had no idea what that was about. But in true Bella-fashion, she grabbed take-out menus and asked us what we wanted from the Chinese spot.

She ordered a bunch of shit, and I needed air, or another cigarette.

I walked up to Fourth Avenue to grab the food. It was colder, and I felt that shit in my bones. I hoped I wasn't getting sick, and I asked for a cup of tea for the walk back home.

When I left the restaurant, I saw Sonny leaving a car. It was parked on the curb, and he had Gino with him. I hardly knew the kid, only meeting him in passing, and I turned to go a different route.

After being knocked down again, I feared the unknown—not knowing if Sonny would embrace me, or keep it moving. Since that would have killed me in this moment, I did nothing.

I got home a lot faster; my frozen feet carried me quickly as flurries started to fall down and disappear into the sidewalk.

Then I smiled and welcomed the warm air when I entered my parents' house. Sadly, my glasses fogged and I could barely see.

That made me chuckle.

"What's funny?" Mom asked, taking the bags from me. "I hope it's not cold. You should have taken the car."

I just grinned and kissed her cheek.

"Geez." She touched her face. "Your lips are like ice cubes," she giggled.

"It's snowing out there." I rubbed my hands together, but then I stopped her before she could get too far. "Why..." I wanted to ask why she looked so down. "Why the frown?" I thought out of everyone, she'd be delighted that Amelia was pregnant—the way she goes nuts when babies are mentioned. Fuck. Both my parents. The way they are with babies, I'm surprised there aren't more of us, why I don't have five more siblings. They certainly have the means. Dad could buy an island somewhere with all the dough he has, fill that shit up with orphans or some crap.

"Something doesn't feel right," she sighed, staring up at me. "I don't know. You should go to the doctor with her. I mean, maybe her symptoms are real . . . Amelia's not saying much _about_ this pregnancy, besides the fact that she _is_ pregnant."

I nodded. "I won't lie. I'm hoping she isn't," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for how you feel, baby." She placed the bags down and wrapped her arms around me. "I've missed you. You had us so scared." She was weeping, which broke my heart.

"Mom..."

She leaned away to smack the back of my head. "If you ever scare me like that again...ever!" She waved her finger. "I'll kill you myself. I brought you into this world, Damion. I can take you out!" She wasn't fucking around either.

I tried not to laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You don't know." She snorted. "Be afraid..." She grabbed the bags and trudged up the steps.

"I'm petrified." I smiled to myself.

"Good."

"I love you," I said.

She grinned at me from over her shoulder. "I love you, too, my Dame-y Bear. Grab some paper plates and get your dad. He's well enough to bust your balls, he can eat at the table."

As I took off my coat, I walked toward the pantry.

"You're back." Amelia wore a bright smile.

I nodded, not saying anything, wanting to get through this dinner and leave—have time to process whatever-the-fuck by myself.

Dad joined us for dinner, still in his PJs, and Kylie came home a little while later. My sister was none the wiser about a lot of things while she broke down every single part of her day for Mom and Dad . . . every single minute.

They'd nod and smile when they were supposed to, and Kylie just kept going. It was a nice meal, passed by without any fanfare.

Since I had pre-rounds tomorrow morning, and I'd already fucked up and missed too many days, I was eager to leave early. Jordan, the other medical student on my team, has been helping me catch up, has had my back since the beginning of the year, and I wasn't allowed any more screw-ups.

Mom suggested I stay the night, someone would drive me.

But I declined. My best bet in a snowstorm is the subway any-fucking-way.

Amelia and Pietro gave me a ride to the station, and my girl was sad to see me go.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered, shivering a bit. We'd left the car, and I opened my jacket to cover her with it—despite her wearing a coat.

"I missed you, too."

"You don't," she cried.

I sighed, slumping my shoulders. "Cut it out, with the tears already."

"Just don't lie to me. Do anything but lie. We don't lie," she said.

"Okay." I nodded. "I don't know how to act or how to be, but I did miss you."

"Until I told you about the baby . . . Where did that fire go?" she whispered. "That...intensity?"

"How many weeks are you?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Because of the pills, I still got my period although it was light." She looked away from me.

"All this shit about honesty…" I thought she might be lying. "Amelia—"

"Can I stay with you?" She hugged me tighter. "I've missed this." Her hand snuck down to palm my cock.

I grabbed her hand. "Amelia—"

"My doctor's appointment is next Friday. You can come with me."

"Right." I cleared my throat.

"Can we go to that hotel?" She pointed, and I didn't have to look. The only hotel in Bay Ridge is The Gregory, which was two blocks away. She could see it from here—that big sign.

"No." Even lonely and horny as fuck, my head just wasn't in that. "I'm trying to focus on school. You know? I'm not interested in flunking out, and _having_ to-to dive into the family biz. Understand?" I cocked a brow. It was all fun when it was for shits and giggles, but I'd hate to be forced into my father's business.

She jutted her lip out. "I just want to spend more time with you. We can just…" She gave me this look, yet her flirtations did nothing for me. They used to—used to drive me fucking crazy. "I wanna fuck. You'll deny me that?"

"Look—"

"An hour." She rubbed her hands up my chest. "Again, what happened to that fire?" Her lip quivered and she bit it down, and I was so tired of the crying—all the fucking crying, myself included. "There was a time when you wouldn't let me leave."

"You want that?" I snorted. "You want me to fuck you and then we part ways? I'm telling you _I can't_ do this tonight. I have to be at the hospital early tomorrow."

"But—"

"We can spend almost the whole weekend together." I kissed her hand, hoping I'd be different by Friday.

"What kind of man are you? I'm telling you I have needs. What if—"

"Fine," I relented. She was trying to push my buttons, get a reaction out of me, and I wasn't down to play that game. "Jesus Christ. Get rid of Pete for a bit—an hour." I was pissed as I walked away from her, toward the hotel.

Amelia was fast to catch up with me, and then I smoked a cigarette outside of the hotel while she got the room.

All I wanted to do was go back to my dorm, and I didn't know why she couldn't let me. I needed time to think and check myself . . .

I didn't want to hurt her, or say something I wouldn't mean . . . or say things I would mean.

But she pushes and when she does, it's always best I do things her way. Especially in this moment when I couldn't deal, when I might lash out . . .

"Damion." She grinned at me, poking her head outside.

I flicked my smoke into the street and then followed after her. Our room was small and on the second floor. There was a king-sized bed and a tiny table, a TV near the wall. "Nice." I'd never been here before, been inside.

"Yeah, nice." She tore off her coat and her blouse fell to the ground after. "I've missed you…everything about you." She sat on the bed to unzip her boots.

I watched her, a crooked smirk on my lips.

"I've been so horny. It's just—us, you know?" She held her stomach, coming toward me and undoing her jeans. She was fast to kick them off along with her panties.

"Yeah…I had a lot of time think."

"Not now." She threw her bra across the room.

"Yes, now." I averted my gaze, feeling calm, thinking maybe we should . . . maybe we _could_ talk and not get carried away.

Amelia placed her hand on my mouth. "I love you and I forgive you—everything you said to me. I know you were hurting, and it's okay. I hope—we're really getting married?"

"Um—"

She jumped at me, crashing her mouth to mine, and I went with it. I brought her over to the bed, placed her down and hovered over her as our tongues tangled.

Amelia kissed me so deep, moaning, the passion coming off of her in waves, and yet . . .

Don't get me wrong. She was kissing me right, and my cock was hard, but something was amiss. I didn't feel . . .

I didn't feel.

Maybe I couldn't.

Maybe this was too soon, and my thoughts weren't as together as they had been.

As she fumbled to undo my pants, I yearned for that comfort I felt during a ten-minute conversation in Sonny's hallway.

_Fucking Maggie._

I collapsed to my side, staring at the ceiling and panting for air.

"What?" Amelia shouted.

"Huh?" I huffed a breath.

"What did you just say?" There was fire in her eyes, and I had no idea what she was talking about. "She didn't want you. Maggie doesn't love you. She loves Santino—not you. What is it with you and her?"

I leaned up on my elbows. "Uh—"

"She married your brother—a real man." She left the bed. "What is wrong with you?"

My chest felt tight and I rubbed the ache out.

"You're still a boy." She was crying again. "You can't—Damion, you're an adult. You have to grow up—" She looked away from me. "How can you still want her?"

"What are you talking about?" I realized, thought I might have said Maggie's name, and for that . . .

I wished I still had a nine, so I could blow my fucking head off.

"I don't give a fuck…I mean, no. _We're_ pregnant. I'm having _your_ baby." She started to pace. "I love you too much, and you make me insane," she whimpered. "I was never like this…You made me this way; meanwhile, you can't even fuck me. What is that?"

"All I did was ask you to marry me. I don't know what you're talking about…" I trailed off, hoping I could spin this, do something. I was stuck with my mouth open, my eyes wide, and my heart in my throat.

And the things she'd said . . . those hurtful things.

I've been walking around angry for months, hate in my heart. And while I thought I was being manly, I wasn't.

I could walk like a man, but I couldn't be a man. It made little sense to me.

"What?" Now she looked confused, dropping her pants by her feet.

As my heart broke, I sat up to take her hand into mine. "I asked you to marry me. Maybe I mumbled." I shrugged. "But if you feel this way, if you dislike the person I am—" I was at a loss, hoping she'd give me the out I so clearly needed, hoping she'd give me time, hoping she'd take those words back.

"I thought…I thought you said—"

I palmed her cheek. "I said 'marry me'." My voice broke.

"Really?"

I nodded, not trusting my words, hoping she'd take my emotions as something different.

She squealed, throwing herself at me again.

Once more, I went with it—letting Amelia run this show. And I wasn't a man. If I was, I would have been straight with her, told her all the things I'd hoped she'd give me—time. I needed some fucking time. There's no way I can blame her for refusing me the things I never asked for.

Once more, I wasn't someone my father or my family could be proud of.

"What's wrong?" She palmed my flaccid cock, and things couldn't get any worse than this.

"I just—I was thinking and—" I jolted when she placed me in her mouth, sucking me back deep, and I squinted my eyes—my hand reaching to mess her hair, cover part of her face.

The dark hair, the small frame, if I looked at her a certain way . . .

I lay back, just closing my eyes and picturing someone else. And although that image made my stomach churn—because of how wrong it was—it got me going, made my dick harden.

"There we go," she giggled, sloppily jacking it. "Hmmm…I missed this cock."

"Shut up." I pushed into her mouth again, pulling her hair, which made her moan. "C'mere." I grabbed onto her arms to bring her over to my side.

"Take off your sweater—" She'd started to do it for me, but I took both of her hands, bringing them above her head.

"Don't move," I whispered, spreading her thighs with my knees.

She squirmed below me, anticipation in her eyes. "Eat me."

"No," I said, thrusting into her hard, closing my eyes.

"Fuck—Damion!"

I placed my hand over her mouth, resting my forehead to her neck as my hips picked up a rhythm. "Just let me…" I groaned, leaving my one hand on her lips, while my other bunched her dark locks in my hand, rubbing my face into it.

Her words were muffled, moaning in pleasure, and I picked up the pace—going faster and faster, seeing those big, innocent eyes behind my lids . . .

My hold on her mouth must have gone limp. She'd moved my hand to shout out my name, but I didn't want to hear it—not that voice. She ruined what I had going. "Shut up," I groaned, lifting her legs to get in deeper, my hands snaking around her arms to hold her shoulders.

The more sounds she'd make, the faster and harder I'd go. It was a scary feeling, needing to prove myself, my manhood, wanting to cause her pain and fuck her well at once.

"Slow down. Dam-Damion, you're hurting me."

"Take it." I didn't want to see her face, so I turned it away, biting down onto her shoulder when I felt my orgasm come to a head. I came deep inside of her, exhausted, and yet I didn't enjoy it at all.

Spent, I rolled over to stare at the ceiling, and for the thousandth time I had no words . . . nothing to say as I caught my breath.

"Um…" Amelia was the first to speak. "That was amazing." She nestled into my side. "You must have missed me."

I swallowed, not saying anything.

"I came so hard," she sighed, lying through her teeth.

"Good," I said, looking toward the window. It was really dark, the light snow had turned into gigantic flakes, and I was sure there was some on the ground. "I should go."

"What?" She sat up to stare down at me.

"I told you before." I left the bed, zipping my pants and fixing my belt. I hadn't even discarded all of my clothes.

"I thought…"

"I want to marry you." Another lie, although I wasn't truly sure. "I'm different—fucked in the head. I need time, but that . . . I want us to work, and you can't give me what I need. You wanted to get fucked…there you go." I shrugged.

She threw a pillow at me. "I hate you."

I grabbed my coat, leaving without another word.

"Damion!" she shouted down the hall.

I slumped my shoulders, hanging my head. "I'll call you."

"Damion!"

I didn't bother to turn around before I stomped down the stairs to the street.

One thing was for sure—baby or no baby—Amelia and I were fucked.

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

**SONNY**

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

_**W**_hen I left Gino's whip, he followed after me. He was going to be Maggie's new driver, so I wanted to introduce them. He's a nice kid. Actually, he's my Aunt Alex's little cousin. Carlisle approached me with the idea last week after we came back from Platts. Apparently, the sit-down I canceled with Ronnie was about this kid, too. Then he had to reschedule and shit came up . . . My uncle eventually just came to me.

When I was still worried about Dame—no matter what he was saying while we were upstate—Carlisle needed me to give the kid a job. Prior to this, he'd been working his way up on Anton's crew. It wasn't working out; the kid had no means to make that extra paper. Gino has heart, would protect my girl, but there was some kind of beef as well—with he and Anton. I didn't get into that shit, just tried to figure out how I could utilize him.

To and from school? That's my job, something I enjoy doing, but it's not something I can always do. Other than that? Gino's to chill outside the apartment, wait and see if Maggie has to go somewhere.

"The wifey's quiet." I chuckled. "But I'd appreciate your silence, understand? You're around to protect her, nothing else. If she asks you something? You can answer, but no personal shit."

"Yes, sir."

"Bet." I patted his back, turning for our apartment. That was when I saw Vito, and then I knew Kylie was upstairs. "What's up?" I jerked my chin.

Vito was leaning back against his car, reading the newspaper. "Baby girl's coming down now."

As soon as he said that, my sister came out of my apartment building. "Sonny!" She greeted me with open arms. "Who's this?" She raised a brow, staring Gino up and down. "You look familiar."

Gino didn't say anything, taking his vow of silence a little prematurely.

"That's Alex's cousin," I said.

Kylie gasped. "My mom made me dance with you at Anton's wedding. What was that, five years ago?" She snorted. "Looks like you've grown up."

"Check you out." I raised a brow. She looked like she was checking _him_ out.

She put her hands up. "I'm outtie."

"Right." I kissed her hair and then Vito ushered her into the car. "What were you doing here?"

She grinned. "I promised Mom and Dad I'd be home for dinner. Dame and Amelia are there. Mom asked if you guys would come, too, but…" She looked up. "Maggie has a surprise for you. Good thing you're early. It won't get cold." She winked.

I didn't say anything as she closed the back door. "Get home safe."

Truth be told, I just couldn't wait to get home to my bride. I missed the fuck out of her.

No one understands. Even Dame and Dad stared at me after I clipped Lauren. They couldn't believe I could do it. I honestly didn't care. The way I do shit, I get it done and put it out of my mind. It's the only way I know how to compartmentalize. Just because I don't like to do hits doesn't mean I won't—if I have to.

Bottom line, she did rape my brother when he was just a kid. Even at fourteen, he was still reading his comics, his books, and drawing his little pictures. After thinking and reminiscing, it was around that time when that all stopped—when he started to seclude himself. Back then at, like I said, fourteen, he was still babied and treated like one. Maybe I was being a heartless bastard before. And I still haven't forgiven him, but . . . whacking Lauren himself wasn't going to help him. I knew that much, and I did what I had to. My only hope is that Damion lets go of the past and grows up.

When I got home to Maggie that night? I just hugged her tight, snuggled with her for hours. She knew something was up—asked me if I wanted to go to confession. She's hilarious.

Katie called me crying, saying her mother took off with her new boyfriend—which makes me think he's in a hollow ditch someplace, too—and she couldn't get her on her cell. She asked me to use my connects and find Lauren. To placate her, I said I would. Maybe I was a dick, but I was all like, _"Well, I hope she's around for when you give birth. I told you she wasn't into your pregnancy."_

And then Katie cried her eyes out . . .

As far as I know, AJ's been running both restaurants, and no authorities have asked any questions. The Feds haven't even been around, even after Mom got pinched. The cops who'd arrested her were keeping it all under wraps. Pop made sure of it.

"So…you run errands, escort her across the street to the salon—"

"I've driven Alex before. I know the drill."

"That was your family, and that woman upstairs is my heart. Understand?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll hook you up every week. This won't be forever. You wanna be on my crew?"

He nodded.

"You go to school?" I asked as we entered the building.

"I graduated high school last year . . . I had a partial scholarship to Pace…it didn't interest me." He kept his tone hushed while we ascended the stairs.

I sighed, taking the steps slowly. "You can't get anywhere in this world without an education. You seem like a good kid—smart—that's why I asked. I'll talk to my uncle—see about you going back to school."

"What? I had plans—"

"To move up? Be somebody?" I smiled.

"Well . . ."

I dug my keys out of my pocket. "I only employ people of use . . . You can either drive my wife around forever, or make something of yourself by getting an education. You're young." I turned to face him. "You're also family—sorta. You can do both. You know? Learn numbers, money—that's your best bet."

"Anton had me collecting—that's about all I'd do."

"Muscle man, huh?" I asked, and he didn't look scrawny, but he wasn't that built either.

As I turned the key in the lock, I looked back to him. "Wait out here." Sometimes, Maggie will walk around in my t-shirts.

"Okay." He sat on the steps, and he's been nothing but compliant. This might just work out.

When I entered our crib, the smell of garlic hit my nose, and I smiled. "Maggie?" Going into the kitchen, I saw her weeping over a tray of lasagna. "What happened?" I massaged her shoulders.

"I burned it. Kylie and I forgot. She reminded me to take it out, but…" She turned to me, keeping her head down. "I suck at being a wife."

I lifted her chin, smiling wide. "When did I ever ask you to cook for me?"

She shrugged, sniffling, and then her face crumbled. "I'm eighteen . . . I know nothing." She sobbed into my chest.

"Oh…" I rubbed her back, thinking her adorable, although I was sad she was crying. "This looks delicious. Are you kidding?" I gazed at the tray, thinking it might be edible under the charcoal.

"Kylie wanted to paint my nails and my toes." She pouted. "I don't know. We lost track of time, and then she left. She told me it was ready . . . I didn't know what to do."

Looking around, the kitchen was wrecked—pots and pans everywhere—it seemed like they used every utensil I owned, the sink filled with shit. "You wanna learn how to cook? I can teach you. Kylie doesn't know her way around a kitchen either."

She reached behind me for a piece of sauce-stained paper. "It's your mom's recipe. We followed it exactly, but Kylie said the pasta wasn't—um—I don't know the word she used." She ducked her head.

"Al dente?" I grinned, softly kissing that pouty mouth.

"Al something . . . I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Gazing down, I saw she was in one of my t-shirts and a pair of my briefs, and I don't know why she's the sexiest when she wears my underwear. "I have a friend in the hall. Can you put clothes on?"

She swallowed, still looking down in the dumps. "I just wanted to make you a nice dinner."

I jutted my lower lip out. "I think it looks good. I'll eat it . . . After Gino leaves, we'll open a bottle of wine and eat it in bed." I bent to nuzzle my nose to hers. "Sound good?"

Shaky let out a breath, staring at my lips. "I missed you all day."

I nodded. "I'm home now…I'm yours all night."

She squealed, which was music to my ears. "I'll go put sweats on." She sprinted out of the kitchen.

That was when I grimaced, staring at the mess around me, and then I lifted the top layer of burnt cheese. It really didn't look too bad.

Licking the sauce from my fingers, I opened the door for Gino. "Excuse the mess."

He kept his head down as he entered.

"You wanna beer or something?" I jerked a thumb to the kitchen.

"I'm good." He walked to sit on the couch.

Maggie came out a second later. "Baby, this is Gino."

"Hi." She waved.

"He's going to be your driver," I said, tilting my head.

"My what?" She looked confused. "Oh…like Kylie has Vito?"

I nodded. "I'll try my best to get you to and from school, but he'll be around for everything else." I figured since she's my wife now, I couldn't expect Kylie or Mom to keep her occupied every time I stepped out. This is her crib, too. She could chill out here, do what she wanted, go shopping. Fuck. I wished she'd go shopping. The other day I showed her where a few of my cash spots were. "Whenever I gotta head into the city, I'll call him. You'll have his number."

She scrunched her nose. "Where do I go?"

It made me smile. "Grocery shopping, just shopping . . . escort you to the salon, wherever. You _can_ go places." I poked her side. "You can leave this place every once in a while." It was a joke, but the humor was lost to her.

I sighed. "He's here to drive you wherever you wanna go. Cool?"

She nodded. "Right." She rocked back on her heels. "It's nice to meet you." Maggie waved again, like she wanted him to go already, and I got a kick out of that.

Little by little, she was either maturing, or not giving a fuck—voicing her demands and/or wishes, and I loved, loved, loved it. She bitches when I'm late too, and I've been trying my hardest to come home when I say I am. Maggie gets fucking scary when . . . She turns into a shrieking demon sometimes, and that's okay. I dig it.

Maggie starts with the tears. And, for a while, within our relationship, we hadn't gotten past the tears . . . well, we have a few times. After the tears comes her loud mouth. I think if I pushed Maggie, she'd take a swing at me with that temper she has.

"Should I take off?" Her tone wasn't lost to him either.

"Yeah…I'll—we'll be in touch." I slapped my hand to his.

Then, as soon as he was out the door, Maggie came over to rid me of my coat, and then my suit jacket. I was home early, so I get rewarded.

"You really missed me, huh?" I smirked.

She bit her bottom lip seductively and dropped down to her knees. "Yeah." Maggie undid my pants, taking me out of my slacks.

"Maggie…" She didn't have to do this.

"It's mine."

"It is…" I swallowed, watching her place me in her mouth. She sucked my half-erect cock into her mouth, licking up and down as it became hard as fuck.

"I know some things." She took me back deep, her eyes widening while mine rolled, weaving my fingers into her soft hair.

"Fuck, baby." With a handful of her hair, I fucked her mouth because she loves that shit. Then it became too much, and I grasped her biceps—lifting her to me.

"I was having fun."

I chuckled, tossing her fine ass over my shoulder.

"Where we going? I like the table." She spoke to my ass.

I didn't say anything as I tossed her onto the bed, quick to grab her sweats and panties, peeling them bitches off.

She giggled, leaning up on her elbows, keeping her knees parted.

"You're gorgeous." I kicked my shoes off, and as I hovered over her, she started to unbutton my shirt.

"You're…you're you, Santino." She claimed my mouth, kissing me deeply, and my cock found her fast. She groaned when I entered her, stiffening.

"Now, I'm home," I whispered, leaning down to kiss her softly.

She was panting, pulling my hair, bucking her hips wildly suddenly. "School sucked today. I kept thinking about this. There's something wrong with me—I should be able to think of other things."

"You seem normal to me—in love." I nodded, knowing exactly how she felt as I sat her up to take off her shirt. "You're all I think about." It was the absolute truth. "Get on top—ride me, baby." With a quick smooch, I rolled us over.

She pushed her hair out of her face, holding my hands and leaning forward. But then she picked up a rhythm, which she usually doesn't get. "Wow…" She continued to move, and I blew out a breath. It felt fantastic, the roll of her hips. "This…this…" She planted her hands on my chest, keeping up, and I lay back—just watching. "This feels…" Her hands roamed to my head, fisting my hair as she went faster and harder, and I wasn't going to last if she kept this up. "Oh, wow."

I was smiling widely, just staring up to her, going wild on my cock. She'd never done this before. "You're hitting a spot…" She was out of breath.

My thumb went to her clit, massaging circles.

"Fuck!" She spat, going even faster . . . so fast and hard the headboard was hitting the wall.

I sat up, careful not to jostle her, so she could keep at it. My thumb kept going, and I bit her nipple. That was when she screamed, stiffening on top of me, her pussy hugging me tight. It was beautiful. She was getting a lot more comfortable with me, and I loved it.

Then she stilled, limp on top of me, catching her breath.

"Looks like you found a groove," I said, kissing along her breasts.

She held my cheeks, sloppily kissing me and moaning into my mouth. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Now…ravage your wife…fuck me, baby." She grinned, hitting her nose to mine, licking my lips.

I actually growled like some beast as I brought her down to my side. "You asked for it." Once again, I surprised her—taking her ankle and tossing her over. She stuck her ass out quick, and with no abandon I fucked her—gave her what she wanted, what I needed.

She yelped when I spanked her once. "You like that?" I asked.

She moaned, her head resting on the mattress.

A chuckle escaped me as I kept on fucking her, her beautiful ass in my face, hitting my abs. My favorite thing to do is watch, and that was what I did—creating that delicious, sexy noise, she was so wet. When I picked up speed again, I grasped onto her hair, pulling her up, her back flush against my chest. "How's this?" I slowed down, using my hand to reach around and play with her clit.

Maggie turned her head to catch my lips, and then she tried to push me down. I didn't budge. But having a clue as to what she was trying to do, I fell onto my back.

"Your cock—" Then it was in her mouth, and she was licking herself off of me.

I sat up to watch, thinking the sight beautiful. "Take it all." I pushed in, and her eyes watered.

"Sorry."

"I'm sorry." If she puked on me, that would destroy the mood.

"I wanna do that again." She climbed on top of me, taking my hands, holding them above my head, and she went nuts again. Only, this time, there was no finesse to her movements. My wife was literally fucking the crap outta me, and I loved it.

"Slow down." I grunted out, holding her hips, yet making her go faster. "Maggie—" My toes curled, my hips rising from the bed, me holding her down to me as I spilled myself deep. I came so hard, I thought I'd go blind—seeing stars. "Holy shit."

"Whew…" She collapsed to my side, and I turned to gather her into my arms.

"I needed that…We didn't get the chance to play this morning." She twirled her finger around my nipple.

I turned us over. "Look…" My nose skimmed her bare arm. "I don't know shit about being a wife either, but…fuck, baby." I grasped her chin, kissing her deep. "You're doing a wonderful job. I just need you to be you." It was true.

For the first time in my life, I wanted for nothing. I had everything I needed in this woman—my wife: a confidant, a lover, a friend, my fucking soul.

If I just wanted someone to keep my bed warm, cook me dinner, clean my house, and pop out a bunch of kids, I would have settled a long fucking time ago. I thank God I never did—that I dodged those bullets.

Maggie hummed, resting her head on my chest. "I like being married . . . It's not that much different from what we _were_ doing. But you're officially mine now." She held my hand, her finger touching my wedding band.

"I am," I agreed, smiling up to the ceiling, and I wanted to tell her I loved her again, but I was afraid I might sound repetitive.

"I love you," she whispered, hugging me tight.

"I love you, too." I grabbed the blanket to cover us. It was a bit chilly.

"Can we order Chinese?" She scrunched her nose.

I chuckled, nodding my head. "We'll save that for tomorrow?"

She shrugged. "Or the garbage man . . ." She tried to get up, but I yanked her back.

"Where you think you're going?" I cocked a brow.

"The bathroom . . . then I need to clean that kitchen, and then homework."

"Just lay with me—talk to me for a bit—and then . . ." We'd both clean that mess.

She settled into my arms. "Your brother stopped by earlier."

"What?"

"He didn't come inside." She rushed out. "We spoke through the door. He was looking for you."

"He didn't come in?"

"No," she said.

"Were you naked like before?" I asked, feeling heated, aggravated suddenly.

"No . . . I'd just got home from school, and I wasn't naked before." She rubbed my chest. "Santino…he was nice, wanted to apologize."

I nodded, not sure what else I should say.

"He didn't enter at all."

"Okay." I kissed her. "What kind of homework you have?"

She puffed her cheeks. "Calculus and I have to write an essay. That's not due until next week, but I gotta get started on it."

"I'll help if you want." I traced her bottom lip with my thumb.

"I can manage...You can read it over for typos, though." She grinned. "Oh, I did laundry and dusted your bookshelf as soon as I got home—"

"Maggie, baby, look at me." I held her cheeks, making her have those fish lips, and then I kissed them. "You don't have to do that shit. I just want you to be with me. The place is a mess . . . you want it clean. I mean, we're both pretty neat. Clean up after yourself, and I'll do the same."

"'K . . ."

"Plus…we're moving soon." Earlier in the week, they put a four-bedroom house up for sale a block away from my parents' place. Dad was quick to free up a down payment, saying he'd have the rest paid off by closing. The minute it went on the market, Dad just went for it. It was their gift to us, and I couldn't fucking believe it. I knew they'd get us something extravagant, but . . . the houses near my parents are a few mil easy.

"What?"

"Actually…we'll be living around the corner from our parents." I smiled. "It might be cool. You know? You can chill—hang with Kylie and my mom whenever. Maybe…you never know. Your parents might just accept us—I hope so."

"Our own house?" she shouted.

I nodded.

"Oh my gosh." She covered her mouth. "A house?"

"Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, two sitting rooms . . . It's on 83rd between Shore Road and Colonial."

Her eyes were still wide. "A house?"

"Yes." I tickled her sides. "It's from my parents. Their gift to us."

Her lip quivered. "Seriously?"

"You're too cute." I squashed her to my chest, hugging the fuck out of her. "By the New Year . . . we'll be moving in."

"I have to call—thank your mom and dad." She squirmed, but I wouldn't let her leave. "Santi-no!" she giggled.

Still, I tickled her sides and wanted to keep her in bed with me—my bride.

_**Thank you for reading.**_

_**Please leave me your thoughts.**_

_*** * The line where Damion says he's not a monster. Cristina said something along those lines to Owen on Grey's Anatomy. Guess it stuck with me. The line isn't verbatim, but it's not originally mine. **_

_*** * I was obviously listening to Pink Floyd, too!**_

_**:-)**_


	29. Webs

**S****tephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**PLEASE READ: **Hasn't a guy ever driven any of you crazy? Like, literally? Gave you whiplash, made you totally OOC? It surprises me that PEOPLE are surprised about Amelia, that she's changed from when she was first introduced. If Damion was my boyfriend, I'd go nuts too. LOL.

**IMPORTANT NOTE: **The following events play out in these POVs because . . . I thought about it for a while, and seeing these scenes from their eyes makes sense to me. It's not too heavy, although it _could_ be heavy. Whatever.

**And to that coward who continually insults me . . . I apologize for not being able to PM you, because you're scared and hide behind your anonymity, but...FUCK YOU! Don't like it? Stop reading. Read something else. ****Thanks.**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Webs**

**KYLIE POV**

_**A**_s Maggie droned on and on about their new house, I stirred my coffee, leaning against the counter at the café; meanwhile, I was really scoping her driver—Gino. He's a total fucking fox, and I hated myself—that I was staring, especially since I dreamed of him last night. That shit wasn't cool. Gio should be the star of my dreams, not Gino.

"That'll be $6.50," the barista said.

"I got it." In my periphery, I saw Maggie pay for our coffees. "Kylie…"

"What?" I grinned, watching Gino check out some broad's ass. He was on his cell phone and damn near followed the petite redhead a pace. It was cute.

"You want a napkin for your drool?"

"Huh?" I snapped out of it, turning to my buddy. "What'd'ju say?"

Maggie giggled. "You're not subtle at all." She blew into the small hole on the Styrofoam cup.

I bit my lip, dread or guilt filling my gut.

"He's handsome. I get it." She shrugged, looking out to him as well. "He's like…dumb, though?"

Giggling, I couldn't believe Maggie said something bad about someone. "Dumb?"

"Like, short sentences and stuff. I don't know. He sounds like a caveman. Oh, like when I used to watch Transformers on the Cartoon Network? He sounds like Grimlock. 'Me drive car'. 'You sit back'." Maggie cackled.

I sighed, feeling a little better about the situation because that took away from his appeal. Joe was the same way, more muscle than brains.

"I remember…You said it was okay to find others attractive." She hit me with her hip. "That's not a bad thing. It's what you do with that attraction . . ."

I turned to her. "When'd you get so mature?" I grabbed her hand, shoving her rings in her face. "Is it this rock? Huh?"

Maggie giggle-snorted and smacked my hand away. "Come on. I wanna be home before Santino."

"Santino. Santino. Santino." I stuck out my tongue. "Why can't you call him Sonny like the rest of us?"

"Santino is sexier." She smiled brightly. "I love shouting it," she sang.

I hummed. "What the fuck do we know about furniture shopping? Sonny should do this shit."

It was Maggie's turn to frown. "I'll just—He seems like the leather couch and glass coffee table type?"

"You don't know?" I asked. "Look, we can call my mom—"

Maggie shook her head. "I need to do this. I need to feel like I've done something." She has all these insecurities about being a wife. She can't cook, although she tries to clean as much as possible, and it's all bullshit.

All Sonny needs her to do is be there—talk, listen, and lie on her back. My brother doesn't care about the rest of that shit. Plus, Maggie's in school and she refused to quit the tanning salon. It's not like she's staying home and doing nothing. "So…when's Gio coming back to New York?"

I smiled again. "Um…he'll be here next week. Wow. December's flown by, huh?" I couldn't believe how fast the past few weeks have gone by. "Listen…" I had an errant thought. "You can't tease me or talk about Gino around Gio—"

"Kylie, relax." She rubbed my back. "You're lonely, around all these couples, and he's single." She gestured to Gino.

"Why'd you say that?" I stomped my foot. "He's single. Really?"

"Kylie." She had a tone and walked toward the exit.

I pursed my lips, swearing to keep my eyes away from her driver. "He's thinking about coming home even earlier—right after his last final," I said, trailing after her. "His mother is like, nowhere to be found. It's totally weird."

Lauren supposedly went on vacation. But I heard that she gave up her apartment, packed her things, and left town. When we were kids, Gio used to get upset all the time. His mother wasn't like mine. She was cold, and she was never there for him. He adores his stepmom, my Aunt Lee-Lee, but his mother was never a mom, always keeping all of her children at arm's length unless she needed something, always taking off with different guys.

Her disappearance, or rather her taking off, doesn't surprise Gio. But AJ and Katie are going nuts. They've hired a private detective or something. I agree with Gio, though, as none of this surprises me either. I'm just grateful she waited until they were all adults. She could have left a long time ago.

Truthfully, I hate that this is all Gio talks about—whether he thinks she left of her own accord, or if something happened to her . . . 'cause that's a distinct possibility, too.

Gio hasn't mentioned that, but I have one of those feelings I get, even if I swore to forget about it.

"Well . . ." Maggie sipped her cappuccino, looking down, "that's his mom."

My stomach knotted up. "You know something."

Her eyes widened. "What about? She's away…we'd all worry about our moms if we were him."

I stopped her from leaving the coffee shop.

"Kylie, even if I knew something…I couldn't tell you anyway. What happens between a husband and wife is to stay between a husband and wife." That sounded like something Sonny would say, or what he'd tell her to keep her mouth shut. My brother knows everything. He's always _in _everything, and his telling her wouldn't surprise me.

Maggie walked out ahead of me, and I watched her go.

"Mags!"

The bell on the door dinged, closing, but I knew she heard me.

"Mag!" I ran after her. "What—"

"What's the matter?" She stared at me, concerned. "I don't even know what we're talking about anymore," she laughed…but she knew.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

Little by little, that shy girl who lived up the block from me was disappearing, too. Don't get me wrong. I loved this version of Maggie. She was just changing, like right before my eyes and shit. "You're getting too mature for me."

Sadly, I also felt myself making that transition.

Although I've been telling my parents I'm an adult for years now, I was finally realizing that I was.

Now I was an adult…Life was happening, and I had no idea how to stop it, how to slow it down.

"Kylie." She linked her arm with mine. "I have a bag full of money…" She made her purse dance, making me smile. "Let's go get furniture, and then whatever we have left over . . ." She trailed off.

I giggled. "Bargain racks at Century 21?" I waggled my brows, bopping my nose to hers.

She laughed and then nodded her head. "Just for you…You know I hate shopping." She was frowning again.

"Yet, you married Sonny."

"Ladies…" Gino opened the back door for us. Maggie was fast to slide in, and I felt my face get hot.

"Thanks," I whispered, and I didn't speak until he closed the door after us. "You never told me what happened on Sonny's birthday." It was last week, and the happy couple wanted to spend the day alone. I went with her to get his gift, and since it's cheesy to take Sonny's money and just buy him something with it, we used her check to get her some skimpy lingerie.

She flashed me a huge toothy grin. "He like…ripped it off. It was a total waste of money."

"I bet the look on his face was priceless, though." I nudged her with my elbow.

She almost choked on her coffee, but she agreed. "My…you know," she gestured to her lower half, "was sore for three days."

"_Girl_…" I raised a brow, knowing exactly how that feels. There was no need for her to elaborate, especially since Gino was paying way too much attention to our conversation. "Watch the road, busta'." I pointed out the windshield.

He stared straight ahead.

And I don't know what's wrong with me.

He's off-limits. I don't even _want_ to be with him for real anyway; I just think he's crazy hot, but I can't seem to act normal around him.

So, I'm a total bitch instead.

It works.

Maggie and I didn't talk much more as we rode along the highway. We were going to Manhattan to this place Mom suggested. Today, she's spending the day with Dad, doing . . . each other, most likely. After he got over his cold, Dad went back to work, and he's been busy 'round the clock ever since. My mother has been doing loads of shopping herself to get ready for Christmas.

Last weekend, we put up the tree. It was awesome because we were all together, and there was no fighting. Mom made this huge feast, which Maggie and I helped to make. Damion and Amelia came by, although they seem miserable.

My mother told me that Amelia is pregnant. They haven't announced it yet. They don't want anyone to know. Along with getting ready for Christmas, Mom's helping them plan a wedding. Again, no one was to know that Amelia was pregnant, but Sonny knew, which means that Maggie knows, and Dad knows . . . and I told Gio.

_It's really not a secret._

Nevertheless, I'm hoping Christmas passes without drama, too. My family's been on a roll, rocking along like pod people—regular people—no emotions shown, no fists thrown . . .

It's been a good few weeks.

Actually, it's been really boring.

My coffee wasn't doing anything for me. The car was really warm and quiet despite it being cold and wet outside. The sound of the windshield wipers nearly lulled me into a coma . . . I almost dozed off a few times. Gio had me up all night, just venting and talking about his mom.

"Hello?" Maggie picked up her cell, and I didn't even hear it ring. "What?" Her eyes became huge. "Oh my God!" She held her head.

"What happened?" I shouted, hearing Sonny's voice on the other end. "What's going on?"

Maggie faced me. "Katie went into labor—"

"Oh, shit. Really?" I was buzzing in my seat, and my first instinct was to dig for my own phone. "Yo, turn around," I told Gino, but he was a step ahead, leaving the highway to backtrack.

"No, I told you. I'm sorry . . . You understand," Maggie whispered. "Uh-huh. I love you, too. I'll call you as soon as I get home. I promise. Love you. Love you." Her lip quivered, and she ended the call.

"What's wrong?" I turned my whole body to face her.

She wiped under her eyes. "Nothing." She leaned forward. "You can just drop me off at the apartment…and then drive Kylie to Methodist?"

Gino nodded.

"Whoa…you're not coming?" I asked.

"I told Sonny…I mean, Katie might feel weird with me being there." Her gaze met mine. "This is her day, you know? I don't want to make her sad. Her father—Aro—might hate my presence, too. Sonny wants me to go—"

"Your husband's about to be a father."

"I know, but—"

"He needs you," I said.

"He doesn't. He'll have his mother and father, and I'll be home when he arrives." Her tone was hushed. "What would I do there anyway?"

"Who cares about anyone else? Or how they'd feel? You should be there for Sonny."

"He's fine—he'll be fine." She swallowed, licking her dry lips. "He said she'd been there for a while—at the hospital? But he just got the call now." There was fire in her eyes. "How could she not call him right when she went into labor?" She shook her head.

And I'll never get over how selfless she can be. That much hasn't changed. Like always, she was worried about Sonny—someone other than herself. She's worried about Katie being uncomfortable . . .

I'll tell ya this much. If I was her? I wouldn't give a fuck about Katie. Maybe that would make me insecure, needing to be around my man, but that's how I'd feel.

Current wife—love of your life—trumps baby-momma-ex.

And I bet Sonny didn't give a fuck about Katie's feelings either, wants his woman. I know my brother. He'd want to share the moment with Maggie.

"You can still come and stay out of sight." I nodded. "You can stay in the waiting room with me and everyone else. It's going to be packed."

She shook her head. "Her father, like, hates me—digs at Sonny every chance he has." She rubbed her stomach. "Trust me; it's best I just stay home. It'd open a whole new can of worms, and Sonny doesn't need that. He should enjoy it, not spend the day worrying about me or defending me. Then her brother stares at me . . . Gio's cool. I mean the other one."

"AJ? That goober?" I snorted.

"Sonny mentioned that I could order furniture online. He gave me a credit card—"

"What kind?" I asked but then waved a hand.

"I can do that—shop on the net." She nodded, matter-of-factly.

"But—"

"Just…" She was at a loss, too. Her nonchalance a total act. She wanted to go to the hospital—deep down inside.

I bit my lip, knowing Sonny would want her there, but then my cell started going off.

"Kylie!" It was my mother. "Oh my God!"

"I'm on my way," I giggled. She was going insane.

"Holy fucking shit—" She hung up on me, and I grinned down to my cell as Gio called.

"Hello," I greeted.

"My sister went into labor—"

Curious, I cut him off. "When did you find out?"

"I just got out of class . . . My father left a message for me an hour ago. Are you at the hospital?"

"No." I scoffed. "I _just_ found out."

"Oh . . ." He paused.

"I'll keep you posted." I wasn't as jovial as others it seemed. I was actually pissed that I wasn't notified once her water broke. For all I know, she could have the baby before we even got there. "I love you—"

"That'll be us someday—having a baby," he sighed.

"Yeah." I grumbled. "I'll call you soon."

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Not really, but we'll talk later—"

"What—"

"What's Katie's problem?" I nearly shouted, upset about being the last to know, upset that Maggie's upset, and Sonny won't have his woman with him.

"I—"

"I love you." I slumped my shoulders, defeated. "I'm sorry I'm pissy."

"PMS?"

I ended the call, but he was fast to call me back. "What?"

"Christ, Kylie!" he hollered.

"I miss you," I said. "And I'm frustrated in general. It's not you."

"Okay…Call me." It sounded like he was smiling.

"I promise." When I stuffed my phone in my purse, I turned to see Maggie sobbing silently while she looked out the window. "Hey…" I rubbed her shoulder.

"I don't know why I'm crying. I'm happy and—"

"I get it," I said. "I can't imagine…I have no idea, but I understand." I leaned my forehead to her shoulder.

It must be an icky and yet exciting feeling. Things were going to change for her as well. Maggie was giddy the last time we got to talking about Baby Izzy. She couldn't wait to help care for the baby, although the concept of her having one herself scared the crap out of her.

Apparently, Sonny's hinted about starting a family with her. He knows she's not ready. Even if he rushed them to get married, he's not pressuring her, but she feels guilty denying him that. Yet, she thought it'd be awesome. When they'd have the baby on the weekends, it could be like they were a family. She knows more about babies than I do. She used to babysit for Mrs. Henderson on our block, who'd had Maggie babysitting her one-year-old a few hours a day.

"I do want to be there for him." She tilted her head, resting hers on mine. "But my presence will cause trouble. I know it."

"I love you, Mags." I thought she might need to hear that.

"I love you, too."

We stayed in an embrace until we reached Sonny's apartment.

"Make sure you call me, too," she said, leaving the car.

I saluted her. "You got it."

She grinned, turning for the door as Gino followed her.

I made sure to avert my gaze away from his ass.

And I hated myself again, throwing myself back onto the seat and groaning.

/=/=/=/=/

Gino was fast to walk me up to the maternity floor, and we didn't exchange any words. That elevator ride was awkward as fuck.

When I met up with Damion, saw him talking to Amelia in the hall, Gino left—had to go keep watch at Sonny's.

The waiting area was filled with familiar faces, except for my mother and father, and I walked up to Damion and Amelia.

"What do you want again?" he asked her.

"Um…a Sprite and a brownie—no, chips." Amelia nodded.

"What is this?" Damion sounded like he had the only attitude. "It's too early for cravings. It's all in your head."

I pushed his shoulder just for the hell of it—hard, making him fall forward—and he turned. "Hey!" His eyes became alight as he hugged me tight.

"What's going on?" I asked, waving to Amelia.

She smiled back.

Damion trailed his hand through his hair. "Katie's pushing—"

"Already?" My eyes were probably huge. "What do you mean she's pushing?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes it happens fast like that. She's been here since like…noon?" He scrunched his nose. "AJ brought her in."

My gaze went to AJ, who was laughing at something his girlfriend Melanie said. "Oh…Uncle Aro—"

"He's in there . . . with Sonny and Mom." He rolled his eyes. "Aunt Lee-Lee should be here soon. She was stuck at work."

"Where's Dad?" I looked around again, and I didn't see him.

Damion laughed. "He's pacing outside the room."

I nodded. "I think that's where I'll wait, too." Sadly, I still wasn't as excited as I hoped to be—as I thought I'd be. "I should call Maggie and Gio—"

Damion put his hand out. "Gimme your phone. I'll—"

"I don't think so." I gave him a look, and that's all I had to do.

He backed off, ducking down to kiss Amelia's cheek. "I'll go smoke and then be back with your snack." He took off toward the elevators.

For the time being, I plopped down next to my future sister-in-law. "Are you really craving things or just driving him crazy for fun?"

She smirked at me. "A little bit of both."

I snickered, staring at all the faces around us. Uncle Caius was here, along with Nunzio and Sonny's friends, guys I didn't know. AJ and Melanie were all smiles. Momo, that bouncer guy, was here too.

"Kylie Cat!" Caius shouted.

"Yo, yo!" I brought my voice octaves lower as I stood up to hug him. "C-bag!" I love his nickname.

He chuckled and kissed my hair. "How have you been?"

"Good." I nodded.

"I heard you'll be going to NYU?"

"Yeah." I sat down. "Gio's coming back, too."

Caius smiled. "I know your pops has been excited about that. My Stephanie still lives at home."

"Isn't she like thirty?" I asked.

He sighed. "Here's hoping she gets married soon." He toasted with his coffee. "You need anything, lemme know..." Caius trailed off, walking back over to Nunzio.

I waved, my eyes darting around. "How far along are you again?" I asked Amelia. With every secret I'd heard, no one ever mentioned _how_ pregnant she was.

"Six weeks—"

"What? Um—" I thought she'd at least be at the end of her first trimester, with the way everyone keeps talking...

"I caught it really early—six/seven weeks, actually." She rubbed her stomach. "They can't even get a picture with the sonogram."

"But…you've like…_known_ a whole month." I shook my head, remembering that "safe sex" talk, or scolding Damion gave me after my scare.

"What do you know about it?" She was snotty.

"A lot more than you, apparently…_shit_." I faced straight ahead. "Six weeks?"

"I just knew—"

"Were you _trying_ to have a baby?" I asked, smelling something fishy, and it wasn't her snatch or anything. Damion is practically a doctor already; he knows his shit. I wondered if he suspected anything off with her pregnancy.

"What's with all the questions? First I had to go through that with your mother and then your brother—"

I put my palms out, defensively. "My name's Paul and that's on you-all."

"Hey…"

"Hi!" I was way too enthusiastic as I greeted Uncle Carlisle and Alex. They had been missing from the bunch.

"Are we too late?" Alex was out of breath, holding her chest.

"No." I smiled. "She's pushing…"

"Already?" They shouted in unison.

I nodded. "I'm gonna go . . ." I pointed to the hall. "I'm glad you guys came." I grabbed Alex's hand and got on my toes to kiss my uncle's cheek. It's been a while since they joined us for dinner, or just came over.

"We wouldn't miss it for anything," Alex said.

"Awesome." I waved, still facing them as I turned for the hall, only Uncle Carlisle wasn't smiling.

My father was exactly where Damion said he would be. I didn't even have to ask for a room number. Dad was massaging his forehead, pacing in front of the delivery suite.

"Daddy…"

He stopped mid-stride and faced me. "Baby." He kissed my forehead and hugged me way too tight.

"Dad…" I rasped, since he cracked my back. "Geez."

"Christ. I'm sorry." He wrung his hands together. "I'm nervous."

"Why?" I asked. "You're not giving birth."

He snorted. "A million things can go wrong, and—" He stopped, his eyes widening as we heard a wail—a baby crying. "She's out!" He grabbed me to squeeze the crap out of me again.

I hugged him back, feeling tears prick my eyes. "Loud-ass baby," I commented. Baby Izzy was screaming up a storm. "When can we…" I gestured to the room.

He shrugged his shoulders, turning away.

"Dad," I whispered, pulling on his sleeve.

He covered his eyes with his hand, his chin wrinkled, and the sight broke my heart. I knew he was crying happy tears, but I'd never seen the man weep before—not even slightly. It scared me and saddened me at once. "Daddy?" My lip quivered. Seeing _him_ cry was going to make _me_ cry.

He sniffled, chuckling and wiping his eyes. "I'm fine."

"It's okay to cry."

He peered up and down the hall. "Not for me it's not."

I sucked my teeth, rubbing his bicep. "Grandpa…" I smiled.

He grinned down to me. "Motherfuckin' grandpa."

I giggled and nestled into his side. "Next it'll be Amelia's turn, and then mine . . ."

"I'm not ready for that," Dad laughed. "Finish school…you're still a baby—scratch that. No matter how old you get, you'll always be my baby—our baby."

"Good." I rested my head on his bicep.

"As long as you know." He reached to lightly smack my cheek.

I hummed, suddenly antsy. I needed one of them to come out and give us report, or I needed to see that damn baby. "How long?"

Dad shrugged. "Your mom always had the operations…I was able to see you guys right away, but then they do stuff."

"Stuff?" I scrunched my nose.

"Yeah, baby stuff. They check out the goods—wash the goo off and shit."

I nodded. "Sounds legit."

When the door to Katie's room shot open, I held my breath—excited and anxious—but I was surprised to see Sonny storming out of the room.

"Sonny—" Dad tried to catch his arm.

My brother lifted his hand, dodging him, and then practically ran down the hall—not saying anything.

"Sonny!" Dad looked panicked and went to run into the room.

Mom was in the doorway to stop him. She silently placed a hand on his chest, pushed him out, closing the door behind herself.

"What's going on?" Dad and I asked in unison.

Mom had her hand over her mouth. There were no tears. "Um…" She cleared her throat.

"Christ, Bella." Dad pulled his own hair. "What's up with Sonny? Is the baby—"

"Baby's fine—healthy."

"Then…?" Dad raised a brow.

That was when Uncle Aro left the room, face sullen just like Mom's, only my mother didn't look so stuck anymore.

"You gave my son hell for months!" She waved a finger at him.

"MC…" Aro shook his head, his mouth open. "I—"

"What the fuck?" Dad shouted. "One of youse start talking." He went to get into the room again.

Mom stopped him once more. "The baby . . ."

"She's tan." Aro shrugged, scratching his eyebrow.

"Tan?" Dad asked.

"Oh, no." I held my heart, suspecting the baby wasn't Sonny's. "How tan?"

All three of them turned to face me, and Mom had wide eyes, as if to say_ very tan_...

"What?" Dad turned in a circle and then punched a wall. "Fuck!"

"Edward…" Mom soothed him.

"I'm sorry. I don't—I don't know what to say."

Dad grabbed Aro by his collar, slamming him back against the wall. "She took a fucking test!"

Aro was really calm, despite what Dad was doing. "All it confirmed was that Raul wasn't the father. I had no idea. I thought…Sonny and Katie were fucking around. She'd said—"

My father let him go, on the verge of tears again.

"We're Italian…Some of us are darker than others." Aro shrugged. "AJ was dark when he was born…She could still be Sonny's."

"Aro, come on." Mom chuckled without humor, wiping her eyes. "Tan is a stretch…your grandchild is obviously half-black—"

"_That_ tan?" I shouted.

They all turned to me again.

I didn't care. I wanted answers. "What's she gotta say about this?" I jerked my thumb to the room. Whether she'd just had a baby or not, I wanted to go smack her.

"She's shocked—heartbroken and tired," Aro whispered. "She said something about a one-time thing…"

"Your daughter's a fucking whore—"

I screamed when Aro reached out and punched my father's jaw. Dad lunged at him, knocking him down to the ground, and Mom shouted along with me. She kicked at Dad's ass, telling him to back off. "Edward!" Mom clapped. "This isn't the time." It was like she was scolding him for spoiling his dinner.

"Daddy, stop!" I pulled on his sweater, but Mom pulled me into her side.

"Just…who gives a fuck?" My mother looked defeated, and that's when hospital personnel stormed the hall.

Security ripped them apart, and then it was like magic. For whatever reason, Aro and Dad ganged up on the security guards, like they'd done nothing wrong.

Needless to say, ten minutes later, our whole group was kicked out of the hospital. We congregated in the parking lot, as my head whipped every which way for Sonny. I couldn't see him.

"I'm gonna see if they'll let me back in," AJ told his father.

Aro held a bunch of paper towels to his forehead. "I'll be up soon."

"My dad got you good." I looked up to Aro. He was bleeding, but Dad didn't look like he had a scratch. I was proud of my pops.

"I'll live, Shortcake." He patted my shoulder.

"Are you guys still friends?" I asked, warily looking over to my father. He was on his cell phone, surrounded by my mother, Alex, Amelia, and my Uncle Carlisle. Damion wasn't around either . . .

"Of course…He's heard me call Sonny everything under the sun," he sighed. "My daughter was frustrated. She wanted a baby—didn't care from where. And Raul wouldn't get his swimmers checked out; meanwhile, everything was fine with Katie." He pled his case to me, or he was making excuses for his daughter. "And I always thought _your_ family was dysfunctional—fuck. Where is Lisa?" He was about to start crying.

I rubbed his bicep.

"If that motherfucker just had his sperm checked." He shook his head.

Now I felt weird, listening to Gio's old man talking about splooge. "Right. So…you think Katie just picked up some random guy at a bar?"

Aro ignored me when his cell phone rang.

"Hey." Little Eddie came to stand by my side. "Where's Maggie?" He's another one, although I was glad his affections had transferred to her. I love my best friend, and I know she's special, but I don't know what's so special about her to all these dudes. She's a petite brunette, nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it's her freckles? They're irresistible?

"Home, I guess." I looked down to my cell, wondering if I should call her or Sonny.

"I heard the baby had an Afro."

I sucked my teeth. "That's not true."

"She's tan," Aro said, catching that before he walked away.

"What'd I say?" Eddie asked.

I shook my head. "This sucks."

"I heard your brother was going to look for Sonny—I don't know." Eddie leaned back against a parked car. "You wanna go see a movie or something?"

"No." I scoffed, walking away.

"I didn't ask—like as a date or something. Geez!" he shouted after me.

When I turned around, I saw my uncle Carlisle shake him, asking him what was wrong with him, and I giggled.

"Hi." I stood next to my parents.

"You okay?" Mom asked, rubbing my back.

"Are _you_ okay?" I couldn't believe she was worried about me. She was one buying everything, getting excited, and laying out clothes already.

"No." She sniffled, breaking down a bit. "I can't—"

"Shhh." I hugged her tight, swaying us. "It won't go to waste—all that stuff."

"It's not that." Mom leaned away. "I can't imagine what Sonny must be feeling. Maggie's home, right?"

I nodded. "She is."

My phone vibrated in my hand, and I looked down to see Gio's name flashing.

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

_**Maggie**_

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

_**A**_fter I ate a quick bite, stuffed an English muffin in my mouth, I sat down to stare at the laptop. My heart wasn't in searching for furniture, and Microsoft Word—that program was idle, staring me in the face.

With two clicks I had a document open, although I had no idea what to write. Sometimes, I just jot down my feelings, or I replay recent events, or I make stuff up. Sadly, I didn't have the enthusiasm to get lost in writing either.

So, I picked up my cell phone. I wanted to call Santino or even Kylie, but I didn't want to be a bother.

Restless and bored, I cleaned the bathroom. The kitchen followed, where I'd gotten down on my knees to scrub the floor. My mother always said it's not clean unless you get down there with a sponge, put some elbow into it. I'd done half the room before I realized I was in tears.

I cried for uncertainty—fear of the unknown. I cried tears of joy, just imagining the beaming smile on Santino's face, once he gets to hold his daughter. I cried because I _was_ someone's daughter . . . I missed my parents.

My mother hasn't called or contacted me at all. My father wanted me to try and be her friend, something he could hardly do. Dad will acknowledge me, if I see him, but he doesn't seek me out.

Yesterday, Santino and my father went to lunch again. He tries so hard to get Dad to like him, and yet . . .

Well, Dad gave an inch. He invited us to Christmas Eve dinner, and then Midnight Mass. Then Santino had a better idea. My parents were to join us at his parents' house. I thought that would be awesome. Bella is amazing, and—good, bad, or indifferent—I knew she'd stick up for me, maybe help me get someplace with my mother.

Soon, we'll be living around the corner from both our parents.

Santino said my father was shocked we could afford such a huge house. But he told him it was a gift . . . I know my father had some remark about our money, even if Santino never said so. He's polite like that—my husband has class, has respect for my father even though he doesn't like him. That says a lot to me, how much he loves me.

A sweaty, dirty, disheveled mess, I dusted myself off, liking how shiny the tiles were before I sprinted to the bathroom. Running the shower, I thought I'd treat myself to a bath.

While the water ran and the bubbles formed, Kylie called my phone. Frantic, nearly naked, I picked it up right away along with my sweats—ready to run out if I had to. "Hello?"

"Is Sonny there?" she asked.

"Why—"

"Dude!" she exclaimed, sounding scared. I knew her tone.

"Kylie…" She was scaring me. "What's—is the baby okay?"

"She's healthy—ten fingers, ten toes, and…Look, the baby's not Sonny's."

"What?" I shouted, shocked, awestruck, and mortified. "What do you mean?"

"Homegirl did the nasty with someone else . . . I don't know. Her dad says that that paternity test? It was only tested with her husband's stuff—you know? And Katie assumed it was Sonny's, but she didn't factor…whoever the fuck she fucked. Get it?"

My stomach churned as I held the phone between my ear and shoulder, pulling my pants back on. "Um…Where's Santino?"

"I told you. You should have been here—"

"Kylie, please." This was no time for tears, not when I know my husband has a temper, and when he gets upset . . . I didn't know what he'd do, but he wasn't here. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. I was calling to ask you."

"Shit."

"Shit just got real if you said shit." She snickered.

I stepped into my slippers. "If you hear from him…call me. I'm gonna have Gino take me to Eclipse."

She gasped. "Come get me."

"No." I felt bad, but I wanted to hang up on her. "Let me go…"

"Girl, come get me!" she shouted. "I'll help you look for him. I wanna go to Eclipse—"

"Who you talking to?" I heard Mr. Cullen in the background.

"Crap," Kylie said. "Hello?" It was Mr. Cullen again.

"Hi," I said.

"Stay put," he said. "Sonny's probably on his way to you, or…No worries. He'll be more stressed knowing you're out looking. Just stay home, okay?"

I dropped my shoulders, knowing my father-in-law was correct, but . . .

"Maggie, you stay home."

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

"Call me or Kylie when he gets home."

"Of course." I nodded.

The line went dead, and then I stared at my cell phone. When I called Santino, it went to his voice mail. "Santino, it's me . . . I'm worried. I'm so sorry, baby." Again, I tried not to cry. "I love you . . . call me when you get this." I placed my phone on the towel, needing to listen to Mr. Cullen, but my heart told me I should be out looking.

Loudly, I screamed into a towel, hoping that would muffle the sound.

Needing to relax, calm my frazzled nerves, I undressed again to get into the bath. I would have taken a shower, but the water was already in the tub. Quickly, I washed my body, hoping to be clean and dry by the time my phone rang again.

As I took the washcloth to my feet, I heard footsteps. "Santino?" Nervous, my heart was in my throat; I grabbed a towel. "Santino, is that you?" I shouted louder, hearing those footfalls get closer. "Santino?"

"It's me." His voice was tired and low, but I still heard him through the door.

I stood to get out of the tub while he entered the bathroom.

He kept his head down, and he had a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's in his hand.

After tucking the towel around myself, I reached for it. "Can I have that?"

Santino handed it over without a fight. "It's not my baby."

I nodded, my heart breaking as I nonchalantly poured the booze down the sink. He didn't need any more.

"She's not mine." He sniffled, shaking his head.

I went to step toward him, but he stopped me—was fast to gather me into his arms. "I'm hurting." He rasped. "I just—I could kill her."

"No," I said, making him look at me. "Baby, you don't mean that."

"All the times she hurt me . . . I just—I can't—who does that?" he cried. "Tell me." He plopped back onto the closed lid of the toilet with me in his arms. He was drunk and upset, and the only other people I'd ever seen like this were his brother and my father—two males who kind of scare me, especially under the influence. But I didn't want to fear Santino, even if only for a moment. He was upset—got drunk, tried to drink his sorrows. It'd only been three hours since Kylie left for the hospital. How long had he been drinking?

"I don't know." I pushed his messy hair back.

"You'd never do that," he slurred. "You'd never hurt me like that."

I shook my head, 'cause I'd rather die than inflict that kind of pain on my Santino. "Never."

He whimpered and cried into my neck, hugging too tight, but I wouldn't dare complain.

"Come on," I whispered, leaning away and grabbing his hand. "Let's go to bed." I went to stand but he wouldn't let me.

"You'd have my baby?"

I nodded. "When the time is right . . . I promise." I've said this on more than one occasion. "I told you . . . I want a little boy who looks just like you." It was true—those green eyes, that handsome face, and the hair . . .

His mouth pulled into a grin, and he had his eyes closed. "I love you, Shaky."

"I love you, too."

"But I'm going to kill—"

"She's a mom now," I said. "You need sleep. You'll feel better in the morning…You need—"

"I just need you." He was drunk, but his words were kind of sweet, those that were directed at me.

I kissed his cheek. "You should eat something. I can make pasta—"

"You can't cook." He chuckled.

"But I make a mean mac 'n' cheese," I said, and I really was so happy he came home instead of running away. Truth be told, when Kylie said they didn't know where he was, I knew it'd be a toss-up—whether he'd come home or hide at the club.

He started to laugh but ended in tears. "Everybody's gonna know—I'mma be a chump, a joke."

"No." I shook my head. "No way. Not you—never you."

"They're gonna have jokes—"

"Maybe about Katie." I was honest. "You did the right thing. You trusted her, and it didn't work out, but you took her word—were willing to be a father, take responsibility. That's commendable, not something to tease you for."

"Right." He belched. "Sorry, baby."

I giggled, resting my nose to his cheek. "Can we go to bed?" I just wanted him to sleep this off, then I wouldn't be so worried.

"When-when the baby was crowning…I got so excited…I hugged my mom so tight," he sobbed into his hands.

With his arms weak, I managed to stand. "Come on. Let's go."

"When the baby was out—after they cleaned her up . . . She was big. I didn't know how many pounds, but I saw this bundle . . . but she wasn't mine. Katie must have slept with some black dude, but I don't know." He looked up to me. "Her eyes . . . she looked Asian, too. It's so fucked. I couldn't even say anything…I just left."

I wanted to say she was a newborn, and her eyes were likely that way because of that. "Santino—"

"Don't worry about me." He stood up, his legs a bit wobbly. "I have shit to do. I just—I wanted to come home and tell you . . . we weren't getting a baby."

My heart broke again. "But we will . . . one day." I grabbed his hand. "Whatever you have to do . . . you can do it tomorrow."

"I—"

"I'll pull the wife card." I smiled, even if I didn't mean it, to look happy.

He grinned. "Come here."

Santino's lips touched mine.

He cried into my mouth.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He stumbled into the hall. I jumped when he punched the wall. "Fuck!" he shouted.

I ran to him. "Santino—"

He punched the wall again and again, and I grabbed onto his arm. "Stop!" I shouted.

He broke down in tears, not fazed by his bloodied hand as he went for the nursery. Knowing he'd likely destroy it, I jumped to stand in the doorway. "No!" I hollered. "Please, relax."

Santino held his head, falling back against the hall wall.

"Let me look." I choked on a sob, gazing at his knuckles. "You need—"

"I need you," he cried.

"I'm here," I said. "But your hand—"

"Fuck my hand . . ." He cradled his face, walking toward our bedroom.

Wary, I quickly ran into the bathroom for peroxide, Band-Aids, and gauze. He had all three in the medicine cabinet, and I was fast to go to the bedroom. "Let me see."

He was on the bed, lying on his back, his feet on the floor. Santino's hand rested to his side while the other covered his eyes.

Sitting cross-legged, I went to clean his cuts. "This might sting," I whispered, blotting at the blood. He didn't flinch, and there weren't that many gashes. "I should see if there's ointment…"

"I'll be fine."

"You will be," I said.

He looked at me with sadness—anguish in his eyes. "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know…but I'm here." I scooted closer.

His hurt hand reached out, gently tugging on my towel. "Can I see?" He sniffled.

I leaned back, letting him open it.

"There's a reason to smile." His gaze met mine.

"Sonny…" I palmed his cheek, and if there was ever a time to use his nickname…ever a time to reach him emotionally . . .

"Just…" He kissed me deep once more, quick to hover over me.

I placed my arms around his neck, squirming below him to get comfortable. When he kissed down my neck, I said, "Maybe we shouldn't." It just didn't seem like the right time to make love, not when there was so much sadness in the air.

He groaned, rolling over. "We're not even married a month, and you're gonna hold out on me?"

"What?" I didn't want to fight fire with fire. I didn't want to fight at all, not now, not when he was drunk and wounded so badly. "Santino—"

"I'm being a dick." He lifted my hand to kiss my palm before he rolled to face me again. "I'm tipsy…then I'm angry, and then I'm sad…and now I see you." He nuzzled his nose to my nipple. And my traitorous body responded as I tried to keep my breathing even.

"Baby…"

"Shhh." He bit it, licking it between his teeth, while he nudged me onto my back. I went with it, instinctively widening my legs.

"Stop…This isn't going to—"

"You still want me."

"Of course I do." I convulsed when his hand trailed down, his fingers sliding along my slit. "I always want you," I admitted.

"I know that." His nose touched mine as he got between my legs. "I love you . . . you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

I swallowed as I started to unbutton his shirt, and I didn't see the harm in this—not anymore, not when I had the chance to show my husband how much he meant to me, how much I wanted him, how much he was needed right here. "I love you, too." I went for his pants as he kissed down my neck, licking, biting, his finger twirling around my clit.

"Fuck."

I grabbed his dick, which was already hard, and stroked it. "You like that?" I asked.

"Love it," he said, his mouth coming down to claim mine.

He nudged my hand away, holding himself before I felt him enter me. I gasped—my initial response is always to do that. I can't help it, always forgetting how amazing he feels inside of me.

"I was so happy." His face crumbled, his chest heaving. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I hugged his head to my chest, while we were still connected.

Our bodies rocked together gently as he cried, and I wished he wouldn't—my heart breaking right along with his. I was weeping, too, although I tried not to let him know, kissing him and looking away when he'd kiss me elsewhere. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why he wouldn't stop, why he'd still want to make love while he feels this lousy. It seemed he needed this—to make love to me, to feel in his own way, cope the only way he knows how.

He moaned, picking up the pace a bit, his hands tangled in my hair, and I hit him back—meeting his thrusts harder.

And then he went deep, groaning, which surprised me. Usually, when he's drunk, he lasts a crazy long time. Sadly, I was kind of happy it was over, and I didn't care about my own release. I wanted him to be better, feel better, but I knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

His cock left me, and he was fast to gather me into his arms. "I'm sorry if I scared you." He panted, kissing my bare arm.

"You didn't," I lied to my husband for the first time, yet I reveled in his embrace. "You should sleep."

He hugged me tight, resting his cheek to mine. "I was excited to be a dad."

"You will be." I squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry I'm not ready now." My stomach was in knots. "I mean…we can talk about it again."

"I don't—I don't want to rush you, but then I want this." He palmed my stomach. "Meanwhile, I live to make you happy, and that might make you miserable. It'd kill me."

"I want you happy."

"You already make me happy, and I should count my blessings," he cried.

"Shhhh." I rubbed his forearm. "It's okay to want things—to want more. We're human. Right?"

"I hate her," he said, leaving me to grab the blanket. He covered us, holding me tightly again.

"Santino, you can't—I mean, you have to let this anger go. Feel what you feel now, cope, let some time pass. You can't say things like that." I turned to face him, searching his eyes. "You can't do that."

"I want to."

I shook my head, holding his jaw. "You can't. I'd be so disappointed…" It was true.

He lowered his gaze.

"If she disappeared, I'd kind of know . . . and then her father would be looking for you, and then her baby would be an orphan," I sighed.

"I won't—I won't do anything."

"Promise?" I asked.

He kissed my forehead. "You're so cute—with your promises." He placed his arms and legs around me, and we didn't say much more.

Santino's breathing evened out quickly. He fell asleep and by some miracle, I did too. But I only managed to doze off for like twenty minutes. I woke up sweating to death within his embrace, and he was out for the count—snoring loudly, and he didn't stir when I left the bed.

After dressing in some sweats and a t-shirt, I went to grab my phone from the bathroom. That was when I heard a creak. It sounded like someone else was here.

"Santino." I'd run back to the bedroom. "Santino…" I shook him, but he didn't wake up. "Shit." Whoever was here was coming closer, and I grabbed his nine from the nightstand. It's not in my nature to be this wary. But my husband has broken a few things down for me these past few weeks. His job is dangerous, can be dangerous, and he has enemies. I've never been that trusting, but I'd never lived in fear before either. "Who's there?" I poked my head out of the bedroom.

"It's just me." It sounded like Damion.

Unfortunately, I still held the gun. "Why are you here?"

"The door was wide open." He turned the corner, facing me.

"Oh…" I said. "Why—"

"Sonny must have been twisted. I saw Marty from the corner bar walking him to the door . . ." He shrugged.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

He turned away from me. "Long enough to hear Sonny take it out on the wall." And long enough to hear us making love, I thought.

"You should leave." I was angry, when I wished I wasn't. The last few times I saw him, he was so nice, polite, and that . . . him sneaking in, able to hear us during our private moments…It made me sick to my stomach.

"I wanted to make sure my brother was okay…I didn't want to disturb you guys. I was waiting for him to come out." He shrugged. "Can you lower that?" He smirked. "We both know you'd never shoot me."

I narrowed my eyes. "What you don't know could fill a book."

"Touché." He took a step toward me.

I backed up a step. "I'll scream first."

He put his hands up. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"This is my apartment, too, and you can't just sneak in…even under the guise of checking on Santino." I was pissed, frustration and annoyance in my heart when it comes to Damion.

"My brother has no idea how tough you really are? Does he?" he chuckled. "You're adorable . . . I'm sorry. There are things I shouldn't say, should go to hell for, but you hafta know." He was rambling or ranting.

"I don't care to know…I don't care what you think of me."

"Right." He nodded.

But then we both turned to the door, hearing someone come up the steps. "Who's here now?" I gripped the gun tighter, swearing I was about to have a heart attack. "Santino!" I shouted.

"Relax," Damion said, opening the door.

On the steps stood Mr. Cullen. His eyes widened when he saw me, and I lowered the gun. But he wasn't angry with me. That much was apparent when his eyes landed on Damion. "Get down there now." He pointed. "Amelia's in the car."

Damion didn't say another word, silently running down the steps. As he passed his father, Mr. Cullen squeezed the back of his neck, grasping and pushing. "Go get in the car." He looked back up to me.

"Sorry." I put my head down.

He approached me, stealing the nine out of my hands. "You even know how to use this?"

I nodded. "Santino showed me, sir."

"Bet." He pursed his lips. "It works better when it's loaded, though . . . slide the mag back." He showed me. "To disarm, you just." He slid it forward, pushing the safety on.

"I was—"

"You were nervous… But he calls _you_ Shaky?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Sonny's hand was shakier than yours the first time he held a Glock." He grinned. "This one step out of line?" He jerked his head.

"He scared me. Santino and I, we fell asleep, and then I heard someone here. It was Damion." I rushed out. "He didn't do anything—just scared me."

"Sonny's here?"

"In the bedroom." I pointed. "He's still asleep."

"If _I_ was able to hear you shout his name, he should have woken up . . . Sonny?" He called for him.

My husband left the bedroom, a smirk on his lips. "I was curious." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, baby . . . you are a toughie." He kissed my cheek.

"You were awake?" I heart sank again. "Why…?"

"I woke up when—forget it. What's up?" he asked his father. "Dame's lucky I got a headache and bigger problems…that's all I'm saying."

"You okay?" Mr. Cullen looked just as sad, if not more so.

Sonny shrugged his shoulders and then grasped my hand. "I will be."

"All right." He handed Santino the Glock. "Watch this one."

"We'll stop by the house tomorrow—we can talk." Santino waved a finger between them. "But right now…I just…I don't know."

"I can't even imagine," Mr. Cullen whispered. "I'm sorry this happened."

Santino waved a hand.

Mr. Cullen palmed my cheek. "You did good." He turned for the door and closed it after himself.

Confused, I looked to my husband. "I tried waking you up . . . you left the door open?"

He sighed, locking and double locking and clasping the chain. "I fucked up . . . My head is pounding."

"That's no excuse—"

"Christ. Really? You're goin' to get on me now?"

"I—" I just didn't understand. He's upset, fine, but to listen while Damion was here . . . Just listen and not come out.

"If he did anything, I would have killed him." He nipped my lips. "Okay? I saw and heard most everything. Next time I see him, fuck. He'll be scared to sneak in here ever again . . . Besides, I thought you wanted me to forgive him, so we could all get along and be happy." He rolled his eyes, but then groaned and covered his face. "Can you get me Advil?"

I gritted my teeth, annoyed. "I get that you're upset. I understand, and my heart breaks for you even if you wanna be an ass. Okay?" I shouted. "I love you…and I'll be in our room if you wanna talk . . . but get your own damn Advil!" My body stiffened.

He pointed down the hall. "Get me the fucking medicine."

"Ha!" I snorted, stomping down to the bedroom, but then I turned around. "Why are you being like this? I know you're hurting…"

"My _head's_ hurtin' . . . listenin' to you." He walked past me.

I followed him. "You don't mean that. Stop it."

He grabbed the pills out of the cabinet, took some out, and then swallowed them down dry. "In this moment . . . Don't you have homework to do?"

Santino was so mean. His whole demeanor . . . I didn't know him right now. Like he said, in this moment . . .

"I don't want to fight with you," I whispered, blinking back tears.

"Fuck…" He hung his head. "Come here."

I shook my head. "I'm here." I pointed down. "You decide if you need me. I'm here for you. We can talk, nap…we can even make love again if you wish. But I won't do this."

He nodded, walking toward me. "I'm sorry. I'm just…I don't know what I am." He gulped loudly, looking away as tears filled his eyes again. "We can go back to bed…My head really is pounding."

"Yeah," I agreed.

* * *

_**Thank you for reading**_

**Our boy Aro is up next! Gah! I still love him. LOL. We'll get to see what he's been up to, and how his family life is. Hey, you might even find yourself sympathizing with Katie. No? Ah, well, you know I always try ;)**

**There will be plenty of Skip, Sonny, Eclipse . . . and whatever other trouble Aro gets into**

**CH30 will be Aro POV.**

**Anyone still reading? I know quite a few probably miss E/B POVs on a regular basis. But I stated from the start that I'd be flipping points of view. My only hope is that you guys enjoy it, and stick around until the end. In chapter 32, we flip to Bella, and I'll be focusing on them for a while. **

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	30. Maybe

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Thirty: Maybe**

**Aro POV**

_**A**_fter I picked up a bouquet of flowers, I drove straight to the hospital. The streets were quiet, empty for a Saturday, and I found a spot up the block from Methodist. I don't like to leave my whip in public garages.

During the short walk, I smoked a cigarette and enjoyed the sights. This neighborhood—Park Slope—is much nicer these days. With the economy and it costing a fortune to live in Manhattan, many parts of Brooklyn are being built-up—nearly commercialized. Warehouses that have been abandoned since I was a kid are now million-dollar lofts. Mom-and-Pop shops are scarce, replaced with a Rite-Aid practically on every corner.

And if I see another Five Guys burger joint, or a fucking Fro-Yo spot . . .

_Frozen yogurt, my dick. _

Whatever happened to ice cream? Motherfucking Carvel?

I kept my eyes open, ready for anything. With what's going on—the Skip's avoiding _me _now—I wasn't sure how this would play out in the long run.

One thing I knew for sure, I had to get Katie and my granddaughter out of Brooklyn.

In addition to the flowers, I had an envelope full of cash. Katie could go wherever she wanted. Yesterday, by myself and of my own accord, I packed a bag for her along with all the baby stuff from her apartment. It was all packed in the Chevy Blazer that I also bought yesterday.

Don't get me wrong. The shit with Lauren? I actually—while I wasn't 100% cool with it—respected it. She did what she did, fucked with Dame when he was a baby and shit, and if anyone fucked with one of my kids…?

To an extent, I was happy about it. I have no idea what the fuck they did to her, or how they iced her, or where they disposed of her . . .

This gives me a chance to have my kids back, to maybe play daddy for Katie. According to my children, their mother took off. At first, they were heartbroken about it. Now, they're just pissed.

AJ made a comment about how he hopes she stays away . . . this time.

They paid this private dick to look into things, and then I approached him and gave him more money not to look. It's not like he was going to find anything anyway.

Lau taking off isn't unheard of. She'd done it before with Tom, Dick, or Harry—whatever fucknut cat she should con a vacation out of. Shit. Three years ago, she dated this guy from Maryland. And she'd gone to stay with him for a month, leaving the kids, the fucking restaurant. When shit didn't work out, she came back . . . usually comes back, but not this time.

Like always and behind the scenes—unbeknownst to my children and my wife, who'd eat my balls for breakfast if she knew—I ran the restaurant, kept Lau's apartment, paid her rent, and I even sent her airfare when that last fucker dumped her ass. She had no means to come back to New York.

I did it to play nice, save face . . .

'Cause no matter what, no matter how many fucking times Lauren messed up, my children still idolized her. I understood it. My moms could go on a murder spree, rob a bank, and I'd still think the world of her.

_Actually, if she did all that shit, I'd think she was badass. _

I laughed to myself as I entered the hospital, stopping at the security desk. "Katie-Lynn Sanchez?" I had to show ID.

"Room 503." The woman behind the desk smiled at me, holding out the sticker. "Artaro . . . is that Italian?" When I reached for the tag, she pulled it back.

"Yeah."

She winked, finally giving it up. "Go down the hall to the main elevators—"

"I got it." I walked off, my mind going back to the previous subject, the shit I've been thinking about the past few weeks.

No, I was cool with Lau being gone.

_Forget about it._

If Lauren spoke ill of me around the kids . . .

That bitch held all the cards, always manned my childrens' puppet strings, and that irked the fuck out of me.

I'm always walking on thin ice with my children. They're hard on me. Maybe they love me just as much, equally, yet sometimes…I can't be sure.

Maybe I wasn't around as much as I should have been, but I was there more than Lau was—while she was perpetrating this image, pretending to be this struggling single mother. Meanwhile, she never struggled a day. The restaurant wasn't doing well, I stepped in. She was short on rent, her car note, I paid that shit, and so on.

Our kids were always going back and forth. They never had a set residence. They had rooms at both cribs. Sometimes they'd be with me, and other times at that bitch's spot.

Maybe they didn't come to my wedding, but Lisa loves the fuck out of all three of them. Maybe I didn't try hard enough, but they always had everything they needed and more.

My father—God rest his soul; he passed away five years ago—made an honest living cleaning offices, running his janitorial service. My parents, my sister, and I all lived in a two-bedroom apartment. My mother always made me a hot lunch—school lunch was too expensive, so I'd go home, or she'd make something for me to take with me. We ate together every single night. My father was home every evening at six. We never had much, and I know it sounds corny, but we had each other. My dad wasn't able to buy me extravagant gifts or send me on vacation with my friends. But that was okay. I respected and loved my parents, was always grateful for whatever they'd given me, and I never asked for more.

When I got involved in the shit I'm in now . . .

My father respected it. It was the way things were done in the old country. So, while he never partook of anything, was never a member of any organization, he never held my involvement against me.

But my kids weren't going to go without. Every birthday, every Christmas, any-fucking-thing their heart desired . . . If I had the means, they got it. They were spoiled within reason; while I tried to instill the values my parents had given me. They did chores, washed my cars, helped Lisa out with shit.

And then they'd go stay with their mom . . .

All of which would reverse some of the things I'd taught them. It was like playing a game of tug-of-war. Plus, if they brought any gifts back to Lau's . . . She'd throw it in their faces and play some victim. Say shit like, "It must be nice to have a rich daddy." Or, she'd tell them I was trying to buy them, which couldn't be further from the truth.

_I think every parent wants more—more than they had themselves—for their kids. _

So, Lauren bouncing? Her getting clipped?

Now, I had the chance to shine as a parent, no matter how old they are.

Even if the circumstances have nothing to do with each other—even with giving Katie the ten Gs, I'm saving money—Lauren is no longer my problem either.

And needless to say, I needed Katie to quietly sneak away without fanfare, without anyone knowing where she would go.

If Lau was around, she'd make a stink and get us all fucking killed.

Of course, I'm disappointed in my daughter. Only because, if she didn't know who the father was, she should have never told Sonny he was. She should have left it all alone until Clarissa—my granddaughter—was born, and then do the testing. The only thing Katie knew for sure was that she wasn't Raul's kid.

It came as a shock to all of us, Sonny especially . . . obviously.

I hear he's doing okay, better than expected, or as well as can _be_ expected. He's a hothead, though. It wouldn't surprise me if he waited until Katie was home—in that swanky apartment he got her—to confront her, and I didn't trust his temper. Maybe he wouldn't go there with the intention to harm her, but he might…

If it was anyone else . . . anyone else, and they dissed a guy like Sonny? Well, I don't know what would happen. This has never occurred before that I know of.

It's a huge slap in the face.

And things have calmed down some . . .

Back when Skip first took the reins, guys were getting clipped for stepping on his fucking shoes. Who knows what they'd do to Katie . . . not that they'd do anything. I don't believe anything will happen to her—not at the Skip's instruction anyway.

Sonny might go to talk to her, their arguing gets out of hand, and then I have to whack Sonny? I'd follow, and anyone else who helped me would follow, too. I'm no idiot, so my best bet is getting Katie out of Dodge until shit settles and slows down.

"Raul?" I stopped short, surprised by his presence. He was waiting for the elevator; I saw him when I was leaving the one I was in.

Raul partially covered his face, walking away.

"Yo." I grabbed onto his sleeve.

"I just…" My ex-son-in-law had tears in his eyes. "I thought—"

"Relax," I said, not sure what to say. He was always a good kid, treated Katie with respect. Maybe they weren't always happy. Maybe Katie never truly loved him, although I can't be sure, and Raul usually tried to do right by her, take care of her. We all make mistakes, but I was sure he was never unfaithful.

And maybe I'm a hypocrite. 'Cause when I found out my granddaughter might be Sonny's? I was surprised and happy as fuck. The Skip and I were going to be grandpas together—I'd get to share that with my best friend.

Hey, I love Sonny. Even if I gave the kid hell because I felt betrayed, wanted him with my daughter, I love him as if he was my own. I may not like his temper, the things he does, or the things he has done, but I knew Sonny would die—kill for Katie and take care of her to the best of his ability, even if they weren't in love anymore. He'd sacrifice his own happiness to do the right thing. That says a lot to me, especially since I'd done it before myself.

Fuck. I was Sonny back in the day—when Lau turned up pregnant with AJ.

Raul, Sonny . . . at the end of the day, they're both good guys. But now I had to watch them. My daughter scorned them both. I couldn't hold anything against Katie, even though I knew she'd wronged them.

"I thought the baby would be in the window . . ." He looked to his shoes. "I just wanted to see her."

"Oh." I nodded. "Did you see Katie?"

"I stopped in—brought her jelly rings."

"Her favorite." I smiled.

"Yeah, but I should go." Raul wouldn't face me.

I furrowed my brow. "Uh…take care of yourself." I hoped they could work it out.

_Stranger things have happened. _

Raul bopped his head, his lips drawing a tight line as he entered the elevator.

I blew out a breath, watching the doors close. Then, when I passed the nursery, I was surprised that there were no babies in the window. The joint was empty, and I guessed mothers had their babies with them.

When I walked into the hospital room, I was glad to see all three of my favorite girls. Katie was in bed watching TV, while Lisa held Clarissa in the rocking chair.

"Hey." I knocked once, which made my wife and daughter look my way.

Katie's face crumbled when she saw me.

"What's wrong?" I kept my tone soft as I entered, quick to sit in bed with her.

"She thinks you hate her," Lisa said.

"Never." I smiled, kissing her hair. "I could never."

She sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I didn't know. I just—I wanted a baby, and—"

"I have an idea..." I rushed out. "No worries."

"No. I want you to know the whole story," Katie said.

After placing the bouquet on the side table, I gestured for her to continue, but I couldn't keep my eyes off the bundle of joy in my wife's arms. I hadn't seen Lisa smile that wide in…months.

"Raul and I tried for two years . . . I was checked out, poked and prodded. I even had that operation to see what was going on inside," she cried. "There was nothing wrong with me . . . Raul refused to go to the doctor himself, that macho shit!"

"Relax." I rubbed up her bicep.

She opened a tissue to blow her nose at the same time Clarissa decided to make her presence known.

"Uh-Oh…I think this one misses her momma." Lisa stood from the chair.

"She misses Grandpa." I widened my arms, wiggling my fingers, and I couldn't wait to hold her, wearing the brightest smile. "Gimme that baby."

"Easy," Lisa crooned softly, placing her in my arms.

"Like I don't know how to hold a baby," I said.

Lisa just grinned at me, gently taking her hands away, only stare down.

"Who's the cutest widdle girl?" I asked, making sure I didn't hold her too tight. Clarissa had her gray eyes open, whining just a little.

Katie snorted. "It's funny; seeing you with a baby…"

"Hey." I raised a brow. "You were the cutest widdle girl, too." I rocked my granddaughter in my arms.

Katie grinned, touching Clarissa's hand with her finger. "Isn't she, though?" She jutted her lower lip out. "I can't take how perfect she is…" Then her face fell and the tears were back.

Lisa sighed. "I need some coffee . . . Want one?"

I nodded, my gaze staying on her ass as she left the room. Lisa was wearing the slacks that make her ass bubble.

"Like…" Katie started again, "it was like three weeks before I hooked up with Sonny again," she continued. "The doctor put me on Clomid, saying it might help." She shrugged, calming down, and so did Clarissa.

"I remember." I nodded. "They put you on some shit so you'd…um—"

"Ovulate." She finished for me.

"Yup." I smiled down to my granddaughter. "And look at what'chu got." I chuckled.

"I was depressed, and I hadn't even started taking it yet. I went out—got crazy drunk. It was the _first_ time in almost _two_ years that I'd had a drink." She shook her head. "And I met this guy . . . He was sweet and handsome—"

"Where was he from?" I asked.

"Queens—"

"No," I laughed.

"Panama . . . You know I like Hispanic guys."

"Yeah…" I gasped when Clarissa latched onto my finger. "Strong grip."

"And we used a condom! A fucking condom!"

"Relax." I nudged her leg with my own. Although I was tickled pink that she wanted to break shit down for me, I didn't wanna hear about her hooking up with some random cat. Even if the end result was . . . a damn good one, Clarissa.

She blew out a breath. "Drunk off my ass, a condom . . . and no meds. So, because of the timing too . . . I came out pregnant after I hooked up with Sonny." She clapped once. "And there's no way she's Sonny's." She started crying again. "And I am so grateful for that. Raul and I . . . things were rocky, and she's all mine."

I nodded, albeit sadly. "Would it have been so horrible if she was Sonny's?"

"I'll think Sonny's the hottest piece of ass until the day I die. That's just how it is—"

"That's not what I asked you," I said.

"I don't know. I hate his lifestyle—I couldn't live like that, and I was scared to death." Her lip quivered. "He needed answers, so he'd leave Raul alone . . . leave us alone. I was dishonest, lying about the feelings I didn't have, but Sonny would have gone for Raul. I know that . . . so I played along the best I could. Sonny won't hurt me."

"Baby, I wish you were honest," I whispered. "Whatever it was, you should have come to me. You led Sonny on—"

"I didn't think it was possible," she cried. "The results didn't match Raul, so I was 100% sure Sonny was her father. What were the odds?" She stared up to the ceiling.

I shook my head, humming.

"He's married now . . . He'll get that one knocked up as soon as he can. We didn't love each other anymore, and I don't even know why we tried to make it work. I knew from the get that I didn't love him anymore. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I figured since our attraction toward one another was still there . . . I don't know. Plus, with Sonny and me not being together, where would Clarissa and I fit in his life if she was his daughter? We wouldn't."

"That's not true, and you know it." I bent low to place my lips to Clarissa's soft forehead.

"I need you to be on my side."

"Katie, I'm always—always, always—on your side, and don't forget that." I kissed her cheek.

She started crying again, nestling into my side. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Don't be . . . but now Clarissa doesn't have a father," I said. "Do you even know how to get ahold of this cat?"

"No," she whispered. "And I don't care. I can raise her myself, and then there's you, AJ, and Gio—"

"True," I mused, chuckling. "She'll have enough overprotective dudes around."

"Yeah, she's mine." She grabbed Clarissa to hold her.

I gave her up without a fight. "Listen—"

"Lisa already told me." She kept her tone hushed. "When we're discharged . . . I have to leave, and I'm fine with that. I honestly don't think Sonny would hurt me. He's upset now, but deep down he never wanted this. He wanted the whole package—the wife, the house, the babies, the bullshit. Soon he'll realize he dodged a bullet."

I reached to wipe what was left of those tears away. "I don't think he'd hurt you either, but I'm not sure and that's why. I'm glad you won't fight me."

"Well, it's not about me anymore." She smiled down to her daughter.

"I'll drive you anywhere you wanna go." I passed her the envelope. "That's ten grand. When you need more money, you call me, and I'll take care of youse."

"Okay," she whispered. "AJ brought me my laptop. I'll figure something out—see if there's any houses I can rent down the Shore."

"Not Jersey," I said, reaching to place her hair behind her ear. "It's too small, too many people might . . . I don't know if they'd know you." I blew out a breath. "It's just for a few weeks—to let Sonny cool down. I've known him in other ways than you do . . . he can be a ruthless motherfucker when he wants to be. He won't think twice about harming an enemy, and you made a fool out of him."

Katie sobbed quietly, and I let her . . . I was at a loss, but she needed to know of that possibility, no matter how small.

"Baby, if you see him, I want you to call me right away. If he finds you . . . which I don't believe he will. You know?"

She nodded, using the back of her hand to wipe her nose. "Do you hate me?"

"Never. I told you." I placed my arm around her. "I could never hate you. I love you."

"I love you, too," she sighed and sniffled. "She was born right on time . . ."

"What?" I asked.

"The doctors…they said she was early, but she was right on time." She snorted. "The timing . . . it fit, and I believed with my whole heart that she _was_ Sonny's."

"Just relax, okay?"

"Everyone is probably calling me a whore."

"No way—not around me. I won't let them," I promised. "You and Clarissa will be fine." I kissed her temple, pulling Clarissa's cap back to see her soft black hair.

"And where the fuck is Mom?" She was weeping again.

"I left her messages . . ." I trailed off.

"I have Gil's number at home." Brando popped one his dome before Anton killed him. "Maybe he'll have his cell wherever they are. She was so excited, wanted to know the minute I went into labor. I can't believe she'd leave."

"Your mother has always done what she wanted, when she wanted to do it. Trust me." I shrugged.

"Yeah." She frowned.

We sat in silence for about five minutes. It was peaceful and nice until Clarissa started wailing. I actually leaned away, she was so loud. It made me chuckle, too. Her cries sounded like Katie's did all those years ago.

Lisa came back with my coffee, and I moved to the windowsill to drink it.

"You're heading to Eclipse?" Lisa asked.

I sipped my coffee. "It's Thursday night." All of which meant I had to collect.

"So, I won't see you until tomorrow night . . . Where do you sleep when you stay there?" She was starting with the twenty questions.

"There's a pull-out couch in the office."

"There is," Katie confirmed.

I didn't comment about her knowledge of that. "I'll call you in the morning."

"Bella's told me that Edward comes home late sometimes . . . but he never sleeps there." Lisa wouldn't look at me.

"I tend to be busier than he is. We have cocktails; I'm seeing guys until early morning. Sometimes I just crash there, get a few hours before I go home."

"You're always freshly showered and bright-eyed!" She widened her own eyes.

"Don't start," I whispered. "Shit comes up—shit I can't control."

She gritted her teeth together. "Why don't you head out now?"

"Yeah, Dad." Katie giggled. "It's time for Clarissa to eat. You guys should head down to the cafeteria."

"I'll stay . . . breastfeeding doesn't scare _me_," Lisa teased.

I grinned. "Right." I left the windowsill, leaning to kiss my wife, but she gave me her cheek. It was nothing new. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." I kissed Katie and then ducked to kiss Clarissa. "You really are the cutest widdle thing." I didn't want to leave.

"Bye." Lisa waved.

I smiled and left the room, pausing to sigh against the wall outside in the hall. She had to bring up that shit—our shit, our problems—while Katie was around. That pissed me off.

Lisa hasn't fucked me in months, thinking I'm fucking around. Sure. I flirt, I get dances, but I haven't slept or been with anyone else. I haven't done shit.

For years, up until she got her promotion last year, I came home early. I never had business on the weekends, and I always doted—was the perfect husband. Her new job is more important. She's always been married to her job, but now . . . I don't know why she's getting on me about being out late. She's never home during the day, when I'm actually home. We've always had different schedules, but we made it work.

I love the fuck out of that woman, and all marriages hit slumps, I guess.

We needed to get away, reconnect, but she's too busy for that shit.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**E**_clipse was packed when I showed up. Even the Skip was here, and he surprised me by giving me a head nod. I knew shit was going to be awkward; I counted on that shit.

"'Sup?" I slapped my hand to his.

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. "Have a seat."

Wary, I slid into the booth. "We gonna talk about this now?" I asked, giving a chin jerk to Carlisle. He sat next to Edward.

Skip smirked. "Actually . . . I don't wanna discuss that shit at all. But you will apologize to Sonny, making it hard for him the past few months."

I nodded.

Although I'm sure he thought that'd be the worst thing, a punishment of sorts, I agreed. Sonny deserved an apology from me. "He here tonight?"

"Nah, not yet . . . he's taking it easy." He sipped his drink. "He should be here soon, just to stop in, kick up. But he's taking his bride down to Florida tomorrow."

I couldn't help myself. "Doesn't she have school?"

He shrugged. "They leave in the morning, and they'll be back on Tuesday—winter break starts. She's off tomorrow or something. Fuck if I know." He scrambled.

"Right." I leaned back when Luke approached the table.

"Wassup?" He bent low to embrace the Skip, and then shake Carlisle's hand and mine. "Can you scoot in?" he asked me.

I left the booth. "I've got others to see…Can I get your key?" On Thursdays, I use the office to collect and confer.

"When he shows, I'll send Sonny in." He slapped the set into my palm. "Come check me when you're done," Skip said, reaching out to give me a pound. "We're just chillin', drinkin' and shit." It sounded like he had a few already.

I appreciated it, him being so cool. "Bet," I said, turning away from the table.

After I got a drink from the bar, I went straight to the office. The door was open and Layla sat behind the desk.

Fucking Layla.

She was on her cell phone. "Okay. Okay, cool." She smiled, waving at me. "Thanks again. Bye."

I entered, closing the door after myself. "You need me to come back, or…?"

Layla still wore her pretty smile as she rose from the chair. "No…"

I nodded, waiting for her to leave. "Got everything you need? I'mma be a while."

She reached for the cash drawers, but then left them there. "I haven't seen you in a few days."

I stepped around her to sit in the chair. "I've been busy."

"Oh…" She hopped up to sit on the desk.

I smirked up at her, her long legs in my face. Tonight she was wearing a skirt, and she usually wears pantsuits. She looked good. "What's up, Layla?" Her behavior was odd, too. On the reg, she's this cute, quiet little thing. And right now . . . I don't know. There was something up with her.

She uncrossed those gams, bending low to get closer to me. "Just…I don't know. I haven't seen you. Maybe I missed you." She winked.

I laughed. "Missed me?" Yeah, it was funny. Her tone was flirtatious, and I'm old enough to be her father. Our relationship up to this point had always been based on the pity I felt for her, being dealt such a crappy hand. I'd help her out all the time when she'd dance for me.

But this was new.

"You didn't miss me?" She grinned, touching her thigh to my hand that rested on the desk.

"Um…" My finger traced her knee. I won't lie. I've always been attracted to her. She's a beautiful woman, but this was sudden. All of which made me think she had another agenda. "What's up? For real?" I peered up to her. "You okay? You wanna talk?"

"No." She sighed, toying with my collar. "Nothing's up." Her eyes searched mine as she got closer and closer . . . and I still didn't believe her.

"Really?" I was going to test this shit out, curious as fuck. "You just…miss me?" I rose from the chair, my hands rubbing up her thighs, my hips getting between hers; meanwhile, my heart was thumping away, not in the good way.

Layla placed her hands on my chest. "Yeah…" Her cheeks were pink. "I don't get to dance for you anymore."

I nodded. "Is it a financial thing? 'Cause, sweetheart, I don't pay for it."

She shook her head, staring at my chin or my lips, her perfume-scented skin invading my senses. She smelled good.

"I'm married," I said.

"I don't care if you don't." She broke eye contact with me.

I nodded, chuckling and looking away. "Right . . . Why don't you tell me what game you're playing? It'll go a lot faster." I took her hands away from my shirt.

"Just…sit down." She gestured to the chair. "I'll show you how serious I am." This was definitely a joke—one that could have been set up by Sonny. As soon as my dick touches her, he'll hop out from nowhere with a camera—send it to _America's Funniest Home Video_. "Just have a seat." She pushed me back.

Playing along, I did as she asked. "What now?" I cocked a brow.

Her hands touched my thighs as she got down on her knees.

And this was so unlike her.

Ever since she was attacked, she doesn't even look at other men, except Sonny. And maybe that was why I was a fuck to him, too. . . maybe I was jealous he had her attention and I didn't, even though she's off-limits to me.

I wished she'd be straight with me. If this was a set-up, I'd be pissed and hurt, especially since I'd always treated Layla with the utmost respect. Regardless of if she shook her ass on me a time or two. We talk all the time. In fact, the past few times I've slept here were because of her. She closes at four a.m., and I wait for her. I take her home, and then just come back here.

Sometimes things do happen—where I might need to take a shower and change clothes before I go home. Yet, that little factor has nothing to do with fucking whatsoever. Those are the nights I can't see her home.

But up until this point, our relationship has never been physical. I never even tried, never really—truly—wanted to.

Overall, I just enjoyed her company.

"Um…" She reached for my belt.

"Whoa!" I stopped her. "C'mere, sweetheart." I held her biceps, lifting her from the ground.

"I wanna do this—show you I'm serious." She shrugged out of my hold. "You don't want me?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry."

"Just let me—" She managed to unzip me.

"Layla—Christ!" I was about to lose my temper.

But lo and behold, Sonny walked right in. I didn't hear his keys over the music, and he was able to see the scene in front of him, know what was about to go down—Layla. He didn't have a camera or a phone in his hands, though. "My bad." He went to close the door. Sonny didn't look like he gave a fuck either.

"Santino!" Layla shouted for him, damn near crawling.

Sonny paused and turned around. "What?"

Layla stood from the floor, pulling her skirt down. "That's not what it looked like."

I chuckled in my seat. "I think she was trying to fuck with you," I said.

Layla's head whipped back and forth between us.

"Layla…" Sonny took his phone out of his pocket. "You called me five minutes ago . . . you wanted to make sure I was on my way, there was an emergency at the bar? Guess I showed up on time. Right?" But he didn't look upset at all.

I rolled my eyes and zipped my pants. Layla isn't a sneaky chick, and I had no idea why she went this route to get Sonny's attention.

Layla didn't reply. She just kept her head down. Needless to say, her plan wasn't working out the way she'd hoped.

"I'm sorry," Sonny said. "I'd speak to you privately, but I'd rather Mr. Andino was here." He took a step toward her. "I am your employer . . . I apologize if I ever gave you a certain impression, and I assure you . . . I'm not playing hard to get, nor am I ignoring you or your flirtations. I'm married. You should respect that."

"Yes, sir," she whispered. "No . . . I mean, I'm sorry. I was going shot for shot with Mr. Macari," she spoke of Caius and blamed it on the alcohol; meanwhile, I didn't smell a bit of booze on her. "I—I don't know." She turned back to me. "I'm sorry." She sobbed in my direction.

Sonny shook his head, walking around her to slap a manila envelope down. "That's my trib. I was just gonna drop it off with Dad."

I pointed to the chair across from me. "Have a seat."

"Just don't," he said. "I didn't plan on staying." His attire told me that much. He wasn't in a suit but jeans and a sweater. Then he faced Layla. "You have two weeks to find another job."

"Hey!" I shouted. "What the—"

"It is what it is," Sonny told me, looking back to Layla. "This whole shit right here?" He twirled a finger. "Now I don't feel I can trust you. I told you in beginning not to give me a reason as to why I couldn't."

Layla covered her face with her hands.

"Sonny," I called him, gesturing to the chair in front of me.

"You can collect unemployment. I won't deny your claim, and you have two weeks to find another gig. Don't make me the bad guy." He was all business as he gave her a tissue. "Give me your keys." She handed them right over. "Now, go." He jerked his head to the door—just like his father would.

Whether you work in their establishments or you're a member of the family, you don't get three strikes. It's one and you're out—doesn't matter if you're a man, woman, or beautiful as fuck. Well, those last two . . . If Sonny was single he'd likely work something out.

"Is all that necessary?" I asked. "The place is packed. She managed to get people in here during the day." Shorty had made flyers, had it so AJ whipped up dozens of hot wings for the lunch crowd. It's cheesy, but people were coming in. "You're making money—"

Sonny just shrugged his shoulders, leaving his hands in his pockets. "It's business, and if she feels a certain way—"

"You have my word," Layla whispered. "I was stupid…I just—I thought—I thought you were into me, and I fell hard and fast." She made another wrong turn, grabbing for Sonny's hand, and I didn't think I was supposed to hear her hushed words. It's no secret she's into him. It's written all over her face, and it's a joke amongst the girls—the dancers. If Sonny opened his eyes or removed his head from his ass, he'd know that.

He stepped back. "This is fucked." He lifted his hands. "You fucking wit' me, Andino?" He pointed a finger in my direction.

I shook my head. "No way, dude. Trust." My gut was in knots, feeling terrible for the girl. "Can you let me talk to her a minute?" I asked Sonny. "Then I wanna talk to you."

He groaned. "I gotta be home—" He looked to his phone again. "I gotta be home in an hour. Make it quick."

"Thank you," I said, because he didn't owe me shit. After all the remarks, all the crap I put on him, blamed him for . . . Mentally, I cringed at my own misdeeds, feeling guilty.

Sonny didn't say a word, silently leaving the office.

"Santino, wait!" Layla shouted for him.

"Mr. Cullen," he corrected, slamming the door behind himself.

"Oh!" She was about to run out after him.

"Stop," I shouted.

Her shoulders shook as she cried her eyes out.

"Come here." I left my chair to take her hand. "Relax, okay?"

She sniffled. "I love him."

"You don't." I smiled. "You went to hell and back, and he-he was a nice guy. Sonny took care of you, but you don't _love_ him."

Sadly, I'd been where she was once in my life. Sixteen years ago, when I'd lost my memory, was in that accident and got shot, I thought I'd fallen in love with MC—Bella—because she was there for me during a time in my life when I needed someone in my corner the most.

"There's a name for it." I racked my brain. "When you go through something traumatic and you attach yourself to the-the first person you connect to." My thumbs wiped her tears away.

Back in the day, it took me a while to figure that shit out. On the outside, no one was the wiser. I'd pretended to go back to normal right away, but inside . . . I can't even lie to myself. That face—that was the first thing I saw when I woke up, the voice I swore I'd heard . . . and she was so patient and so kind, and when I recalled everything, my affection came as a shock. Lisa and I had been married for a year before I realized MC was just Bella, MC, Shortcake—the _Skip's_ wife. Lisa made me forget, but then I'd see Bella . . . It was a very confusing time.

Yet, it wasn't something I could control. Now Bella's my sister through marriage and in my heart. I love her like I do Luciana, my real sister.

"If it wasn't for-for her, Maggie—"

"Don't say that." I handed her another tissue.

"It's true." She hiccupped. "We had something. It was magical and spine-tingling, and-and—"

"Look, when you're young…shit is confusing, mistaking like for love. But after what happened to you—"

She turned away, hugging herself.

I placed my finger under her chin, making her face me. "You're a strong woman. To go through what you have . . . Sonny makes you feel safe, whole, like you felt before it all happened, right?"

Layla nodded and started sobbing.

I rubbed her back. "Shhhh."

"He loves me, too," she said.

"You realize you can't pursue this. You're starting to scare me," I admitted. "We're friends, right?"

"Yeah." She wiped her eyes.

"Get this out your head from now. Try to work through your personal feelings, figure out . . ." Again, it'd taken me a while to get over my own demons, and there wasn't much I could say. "I'll try to save your job, but if you don't—if you keep pursuing him, you'll find yourself unemployed, and—" I wasn't going to elaborate on things I knew nothing about. Who knows? Maybe if she kept at him, he'd go for it, but I owed him this much. If at some point in time, Sonny wants to throw his marriage away, he can do what he wants. But I wasn't going to help that, or Layla with this bullshit. It also angered me. Fuck me. I was jealous. I'd been there for her, too . . .

I shook my head of my selfish thoughts.

"He's perfect and he has money, and—"

"If he was still with my daughter…?" I raised a brow.

She winced. "Even if…That doesn't say much about me, but there aren't many men like that still around. I didn't even care until he brought her in that night, and then they were married? What a fucking joke!" This was a side to her I'd never seen before: malicious.

"Layla…I'm trying to be your friend." I kept my tone hushed, and her going to these extremes . . . "You're gorgeous, okay? Any fucker out there, they'd be crazy to turn you down. You know? I just…" Yeah, when it came down to it, her feelings for Sonny always make me a little sad. Did I hope she'd feel that way about me? I actually had no idea. She reminded me so much of Lisa . . . I just . . .

My thoughts came to a halt, and I backed up a step. "Maybe you should find another job." I nodded. "Get the fuck outta here. You're too good for this place. My wife works for a huge production company. My son runs two restaurants. If you're stuck, I can hook you up with something."

"No!" She grabbed my hand. "Do whatever you have to do to save my job here. Please. I can't—I can't _not_ see him." She seemed frantic. This wasn't the Layla I knew, nor was she the Layla Sonny knew.

"Layla," I warned, just looking at her. "Are you serious? You need to take a step back. You need to reassess. I promise. These feelings will pass. You just need to—"

"I can't think right when he's in my head." She pulled her hair.

I blew out a breath. "Why don't you take the night off? I'm sure Sonny will call you—"

"No. If he wants me to leave . . ." She shrugged. "_He_ can make me leave."

"Now _I_ want you to leave. Understand?" I didn't like the person in front of me, someone I'd built a rapport with, and yet she seemed a stranger. "This whole show you put on…"

She ran her hands up my chest. "I'll still do it. Just get my job back—" Her lips briefly touched mine before I pushed her away.

"Fuck no!" Pissed, I actually ushered her out of the office. "You need your fuckin' head examined." I bit my tongue, regretting those words, but sometimes the truth hurts.

"Aro, no—" With a nudge out into the hall, I stepped back quickly to slam the door shut.

"Fuck," I said to myself, confused as hell.

Maybe I'd seen myself in her. Maybe I could sympathize, but I was never so crazy. Well . . . there was that time, after my memory came back that I pretended it hadn't, asked Bella to come away with me. That shit was nuts, irrational, logic didn't exist. What replaced it were my erratic thoughts and my desperation. Even with my memory, I did not recognize myself. But I'd realized it was a mistake as soon as I'd uttered those words to MC that day.

When I heard someone knocking, I was wary to open the door. It was actually Ronnie, Alex's pops. I welcomed him in, and I didn't see Layla in the hall.

"What's going on with Layla? She okay?" he asked.

I just shook my head, at a loss as to what I should say.

"I gotta run." He was another one to slap his money down. "There's a little something extra in there for you and the Skip—had a good week."

I saluted him as he let himself out.

While he left, Abramo entered . . .

Then Anton followed him.

On and on went the night, and my head was totally fucked—thinking about the past, present, and future.

After Anton left, I continued to see fifteen of our guys—most of our capos. A select few won't even come near Eclipse on a Thursday night, those who are wary and cautious, and those who are deep into their anonymity and don't socialize with the crews that showed tonight.

Still, I'll see the others tomorrow night at Midnight Sun.

Some were fast to drop their tribute off and run, having other places to be, and a few had scores to settle—sit-downs I'd have to schedule. I actually wrote a list, my mind still fucked.

All the while I waited and waited for Sonny to come back to no avail. By midnight, I figured he'd taken off.

Luke came in to hand me the largest kick of the night, his loot. He said something about going to a late dinner with his daughter and Dame, and I wished him a good weekend.

When another hour went by, and no one else knocked on the door, I poked my head out. Carlisle needed to come in, pay me, and then we could split spoils. Caius hadn't paid me yet either.

The only money that gets handled directly to the Skip is mine—his large percentage of _every_ dollar I was just given. It's done this way and has been done this way since this thing of ours began.

Just like any problems come to me first, so does the money, so nothing gets traced back to the Skip. It's a smart system, because if anything ever stuck to him, he'd know where it came from—me. It also covers his ass.

Fuck _being_ the Skip. Everything I mentioned above is the highest honor in our world: the level of trust I've been granted, actually being the underboss, interacting with everyone. It is a lot of work. Years ago, I cringed at the thought of being where I am now, but it's a lot better than being a capo, or solely running a crew.

I'm no fool, though.

I know that—God forbid—if anything happened to Edward, this dynasty would be passed on to Sonny, as it rightfully should be. I have no qualms with that, no desire to fill the Skip's shoes.

"Yo!" I widened my arms for Caius.

He held up a finger, laughing his ass off at something someone said at that table. They truly were just chillin' tonight, having a good time.

That's when Sonny made eye contact with me. He'd said he had to be home in an hour, yet that ship sailed—passed and gone over two fucking hours ago.

"Come here!" I shouted for him now.

He left the booth with his signature bottle of Jack Daniel's. His steps were solid and he wasn't wearing a puss. "Wassup?" Sonny asked, getting closer.

I didn't say a word until he plopped down in his chair, the one I'd just been sitting in.

I closed the door, wondering where to start. "What happened with—"

"I had Momo make her leave. What the fuck, man? She was doing so well." He slumped in his seat. "I should get Ant in here. He's a dude, but he don't like chicks, so he won't step outta line with them. But he sucks with numbers, running them . . ." He swiveled around.

"You drunk?" I grinned.

"Tipsy at best…it's their fault—wanna celebrate my marriage now. Maggie's gonna kick my ass!" He laughed. "They only did it to cheer me up…I dunno."

I sighed, sitting across from him. "Look—"

"No, you look." He sat up, all previous amusement gone. "I don't want to discuss Katie or that shit. Understand? It happened, and I don't even care to know why. Your daughter did me dirty, Aro."

"I know that," I said. "And—"

"Don't." He waved a finger. "Just don't. If I think about it, then I gotta get angry, and I don't wanna be angry. It fucks with my head." He stabbed his temple with his finger. "I'm going on vacation tomorrow. And by the time I get back, I hope the past two days are a distant memory._ Capisce_?"

"How much have you drunk?" I asked, as he was awfully lighthearted no matter how harsh his words came across.

"It's them." He pointed to the door. "My father thinks it's an act—that I'm this okay, but it's true. I was heartbroken, fucking gutted, but…I have Maggie."

"You do have Maggie." I nodded, knowing this was all an act. Truth be told, I can't imagine the level of pain he must be feeling. "But—"

"I won't hurt her," he whispered. "You just keep her away from me. Have her drive off into the sunset in that Blazer—"

"What?" I wondered how he knew that much.

He shrugged. "People tell me shit. And I'm not that drunk, and I'm not _that_ okay with what happened. But I'm trying to be a better person."

"Well, thank fuck for that." I deadpanned.

He sipped from his bottle. "I really have to go."

"I have your word?" I asked.

He nodded. "For what it's worth, sure. You can have it."

"Sonny—"

He pursed his lips. "Keep her away from me."

"Done." I promised.

"Do you have any idea how much she's fucked with me? My whole life..." He widened his arms, chuckling bitterly. "I'm trying not to lose my temper. I'm trying to be better. I'm trying, trying, trying, Aro, and that's I can seem to do." His voice was filled with emotion.

"I am so sorry," I said. "I'm sorry for that—what happened, the comments, being a dick. The whole fucking thing."

He just shook his head, staring down. "What am I supposed to say to that? It's okay? Because none of it was okay, but I don't give a fuck about what you think anyway." He snorted. "Now that's…" he pointed at me, "the truth."

"Right." I knew that was bullshit, too. Sonny cares a whole lot about what his father and I think of him.

"And maybe…maybe in a few years, before I'm thirty, I'll be having a baby of my own," he sighed.

"That Layla shit—"

He waved a hand. "Another bitch I don't wanna talk about." I wanted to jump at that comment, but I ate it. "Why can't people just leave me alone?" His eyes met mine, and this was the Sonny I knew. He shoots off with his mouth, defends himself, but when we're alone . . . when he lets his guard down, he's an open book, much like his mother. "I mean, seriously. I'm finally happy, and the world says, fuck you! You're not allowed to be happy. What's up with that, Aro? Tell me. My brother still wants to fuck my wife, Layla wants to fuck me, or kill my rabbit." He cackled.

"You have a rabbit?" I laughed.

"That movie…"

I nodded, laughing some more. "So, we cool?"

"Listen." He stood up. "Just stay outta my way, and I'll stay outta yours. We gotta work together, that's a different story, and keep Katie away from me. That's it."

"Understandable . . . but I am sorry."

He sucked his teeth, walking out. "Everyone's sorry . . . but I'm the one who has to show my face." Sonny opened the door for Caius. "What the fuck you want now?"

Caius looked him up and down, and I knew that face. C-bag's wondering if the kid's serious, coming out his mouth like that.

"Wrong timing," I commented. "He's here for me," I told Sonny.

"Yeah, Junior. Beat it," Caius laughed. "This chump wants to get in _my_ face?" C-Bag pointed to himself. Sadly, he had the wrong timing, and he said the wrong fucking thing. He didn't even see Sonny throw his fist out.

Caius dropped his drink, was knocked to the ground, but came up swinging. Sonny was fast to tackle his ass to the ground. And I was faster to hop over those fucks to close the door—keep prying eyes away.

"Yo!" I went to pull Sonny off of him. He was laying a beat down on Caius, just plowing into him.

When he realized he didn't have the upper hand, Caius reached for his belt, for his heat. I tossed Sonny away, kicking at C-Bag's arm. His nine flew across the room.

"You can't fight me? You pussy?" Sonny laughed and then kicked him right in his face.

"Chill out!" I pulled him back, but I couldn't get a good handle on him now. Sonny kept going for Caius, kicking him, punching him, fucking wailing on him. He overpowered me, blind rage guiding him. "Sonny!"

He spit in Caius's face. "Who's the chump?" He licked his bloodied lip, panting, his eyes crazed yet unseeing. I guess Sonny finally found the outlet for his temper.

I massaged my forehead, staring down. "What the fuck?" Caius wasn't moving.

Sonny shrugged his shoulders. "Take him to the emergency room. I'll foot the bill." He threw a five spot down onto his body, going for the door.

"Hold up." I pulled on his sleeve, and he turned raising his fist. "You serious?" I was quick to place my hand on his forearm. "You gonna swing at me now?"

Sonny calmed down, letting out a large breath.

Sucking my teeth, I bent low to feel for a pulse, and then my eyes widened when I didn't fucking feel one. "What did you do?"

"What?" Sonny asked.

"He's dead," I said.

He rolled his eyes. "Stop fucking with me."

I grabbed his fucking hand, pulling it down and placing it on Caius's neck. "You feel somethin'?"

Sonny looked surprised. "I killed him."

I groaned, standing to kick the chair. "Goddammit, Sonny! I told you once, and your father told you twice!" This kid's been asking for our blessing the past few months—to clip Caius.

He shrugged. "He has comments every time my brother's name is mentioned—all sore about him getting a pass. I never trusted him any-fucking-way."

"He's a dick! In every sense of that word, he's a ball-breaking prick, but he knew where his loyalties laid. He liked to bust chops. Fuck!" I fisted my hair. "Do you know how much money he brings in alone?"

Sonny shook his head. "Sooner or later, he would have—"

"He would have done nothing!" I shouted. "Your father is going to have your ass." I had no idea what the Skip would do. If he gave Dame a pass, he'd most likely give Sonny one. But . . . he might not. "Just go," I whispered.

"What?" he asked.

"I'll clean this up—I did it. Just fucking bounce."

"I'm not letting you take the heat for this. I did this." He pointed down. "Pop'll go easier on me."

"Or set an example. He can't let you both get away with shit. Fuck! He left—all right? Caius went out the back or something. I'll clean up after Eclipse closes." I had no other immediate plans. Besides Jasper and me, Caius was our biggest earner. With this, we were taking a huge pay-cut, and Sonny might have to pay out his eyeballs for it.

"I'll help you . . . Just lemme call Maggie. Fuck. She's gonna be pissed."

"You're worried about her?" I snorted.

"Dude." He wore a serious face. "She's sweet, comes in a cute package, but you ain't never seen her angry."

"Get the fuck outta hea." I shook my head. "You're ready to face your father's wrath, but Jailbait frightens you?" It was hilarious and sad all at the same time.

"Don't fucking call her that!"

"My bad." I put my palms up. "Let's just go out there, have a few more drinks . . . Hopefully, I mean, I'll make some shit up. Hopefully, Skip believes me, okay? I'll settle up with him tomorrow—count out this shit in the morning." I gestured to the desk.

"Dad's having a really good time." Sonny nodded.

"Right. You go, send him in." If Edward was in a good mood, we'd get a better outcome.

"Now?" he asked.

"I'm torn here . . ." I admitted, 'cause it wasn't like this was some knock-around dude, some schmuck. It was fucking C-bag. "I mean, yeah. Send Skip in now."

"You don't have to do this," he laughed, and he was so wrong.

"Actually, I do. I owe you. And I urge you to take it."

"No," he said.

"Santino." I held his biceps. "Go get your father, you keep your fucking mouth shut, and you go home. That's a fucking order."

He put his head down.

"Understand?" I asked.

His eyes met mine. "Worse comes to worst, you just tell him it was me. I'll take a hit—owe him more money each week."

"Relax. He won't clip me."

"You believe that?" Sonny laughed at me, a little chuckle as he let himself out of the office. I gave him the finger. All of which made him laugh harder. "Seriously." He composed himself, coming back to the office. "You don't—"

"Go!" I pointed.

As soon as the door was closed, I ransacked Caius's pockets. The money he had on him to kick up, I placed in my jacket along with the contents of his pockets. I had a stupid idea that I hoped would sound plausible.

I scooped up his nine, placing it in my waist as Skip opened the door.

"Fuck…" He quickly slammed it closed, staring down at Caius. "Sonny did this?"

"No," I said.

He smirked, holding his lips. "I know _you_ didn't do this."

I nodded. "Actually, he's been ducking me for weeks."

"What'chu mean?" He quirked a brow, bending low. "You get his pockets?"

"There was nothing in there." I leaned my ass against the desk. "Listen, I've been paying his tribute the past few weeks. Then we got into it . . . I got too carried away. I didn't mean to snuff'em."

"Really?" He nodded, pursing his lips, and he didn't believe me.

"He made some bad bets…The Giants are having a lousy season—"

"Try again. C-Bag was a Jets fan."

"Fuck!" I couldn't believe I blew it with the human lie detector over such a dumb-ass technicality. But who was I kidding? I know when his ass is lying, too—more so than Sonny's crafty ass.

"He never gambled . . . I always thought youse two were cool…like you knew him?" He stared at me. And even if I know when he's dishonest, I couldn't get a read on him at the moment—had no idea if I'd catch hell for this or not.

"We ran together for years. All he talked about were broads, never sports, although bagging bitches _was_ a sport to him." I shook my head. "It happened. Does it matter who did it?"

He was calm, his eyes glassy with his intoxication.

"Skip?" I asked.

"I guess it doesn't . . ." His answer surprised me; I was taken aback. "You're going to make it up to me, right? The same way you're taking the rap to make it up to Sonny?"

I nodded.

"I'll be pissed about this tomorrow." He pointed down. "Trust . . . but you shouldn't cover for him."

"I know," I said. "Hallmark doesn't make a 'Oops, you're not the father' card, though."

The Skip lost his shit, barked out a laugh and bent over in hysterics. "Holy shit." This was so unlike him.

"Did'ju smoke?" I asked.

Edward sighed, composing himself. "Yeah . . . Very few times I get to just chill, you know?" He frowned then.

"Very true." Without jinxing shit, everything was relatively calm except for the family drama.

"Sonny did this, though?" He scrunched his nose.

"Yeah." I stared down at Caius. "He ran his mouth . . . I was talking to Sonny about some shit, then C-bag ragged on him at the wrong time. Sonny didn't mean to clip him."

"Ha! I'm sure he did." He grimaced. "We got our button together. I ever tell you that?" His eyes met mine.

I nodded. "A few times."

"He was the ballsiest motherfucker back in the day, too. I had heart, but Caius . . . He was always a few years older, a little cooler. It was only when I knew better that he became a douchebag."

I chuckled. "He was always a prick."

Skip did the Sign of the Cross. "Where you gonna dump him?"

I puffed my cheeks. "Does it matter?"

"Guess not." He looked sad. "That little motherfucker."

I was quiet, had no idea what to say. "I'll make this up to you."

"Nah, it's just . . . What? Now Sonny thinks he's Teflon?" he laughed.

"No way." I rushed out. "He didn't mean to kill him. Circumstances notwithstanding . . . Look, I'd rather it was C-bag than he runs into Katie in the 'hood, words are exchanged . . ."

"Very true. But my son feels no remorse. He's out there doing shots with Carlisle." He jerked a thumb. "If it was a mistake, I think he'd be more torn up about it."

"Be honest. You gonna miss Caius? I mean, be real."

"I'll miss his money." He scratched his nose. "Let's get a drink. You ain't touching this shit while I'm here." He gazed down.

"One drink, and then you gotta get the fuck outta here," I said.

"True." He mused, trailing off with a sigh. "Ugh!" He stiffened, getting the aggravation out. "Motherfucking kids, man. I wouldn't even give a fuck about this if I was a grandpa."

"She's a cutie . . . we can share." I chuckled.

"Don't get all cunty on me." He scoffed, leaving the office. Then he turned around. "You got pictures?" My man has always been a fan of babies, no matter whose they were.

"A few."

"Show me when the kid's not around." He tapped the wall and then left the office.

And I knew . . . Maybe it wouldn't be tomorrow, or over the weekend, but Sonny and I were going to catch some shit for this.

Caius wasn't too bloody, and I was able to wrap him right quick with a blanket. As I left the office, I locked it, double locked it, and then went for their table.

While I walked over, my mind traveled back to Layla, but then I pushed it out of my mind. In the grand scheme of shit, she was Sonny's employee—his problem, and I no longer owed him anything.

"So, then—listen to this." Skip was already elbow-deep in a story when I sat down. "I walk up to Sonny's crib, Dame opens the door, but fucking Maggie's standing there with a nine!" They all laughed their asses off.

"Maggie?" I asked.

"I told you," Sonny said.

"It wasn't loaded." The Skip looked to me. "Clip was full, but…"

I snapped my fingers for a drink, needing like five of them shits badly—ten to catch up to these fucks.

"Yo, I dunno what's up with that kid." Skip shook his head, speaking of Dame.

"He's lucky I had other shit on my mind. I heard everything," Sonny groaned. "I don't wanna talk about that shit either. I called him. We're meeting for lunch when I'm back from Florida."

"So, what _can_ we talk about?" Carlisle widened his arms. "What's a safe topic for you, nephew?"

As the table fell silent and I was served my drink, I peeped Sonny's li'l wifey stomping into the joint. "Holy shit!" She was bundled in a coat, but she was wearing pajamas underneath, polka dot pants and shit.

"What?" They all turned to follow my line of sight, Skip drawing his heat.

"What the fuck?" Sonny hopped over his father to get out of the booth.

Carlisle nudged my arm. "This shit's gonna be hilarious—Shorty thinking she can just roll up like this." He was getting a kick out of it, and I bet Maggie didn't know—that she couldn't just show up here. It's not like Sonny works at a factory, or an office.

"Good. You're alive!" Maggie shouted before she turned around, that kid Gino behind her.

"Hold up." Sonny stopped her.

"No . . . You were supposed to be home three hours ago, Santino!" She had fire in her eyes, and Sonny was right. Lau or Lisa never ran up in the place like this.

"Little chick has balls," Carlisle said in my ear.

"I—"

"Don't lie to me." She cut Sonny off.

"I think she stole Sonny's stones," Carlisle laughed, and he might have been correct. Our boy was standing there . . . letting his li'l chick tear him a new one, damn near curling in on himself, looking apologetic and like he might beg for forgiveness. And this is the same fucker who just whacked Caius. It made no sense—was a contradiction—but then I'd never let Lisa do this shit to me. She'd catch mad hell for it.

"Come here, hon." Skip waved her over to the table. "Come have a drink with your father-in-law." He chuckled.

"Dad!" Sonny shouted.

"What?" he asked. "And if she takes a swing at you, I'll buy her a Lexus." He jerked his head.

Carlisle and I laughed hysterically.

Despite Edward's jovial mood, Maggie looked reluctant to approach the table. She faced Sonny instead. "Just . . . when you say you're going to be home by eleven. Come home at eleven or call . . . I was worried." She ended in a whisper. "I'm sorry for disturbing your evening." She told us.

"Fuck that. C'mere." Skip gestured for her to join us again.

Maggie politely declined, turning toward Gino.

"I'm sorry." Sonny grasped her hand.

She kept her gaze low.

"Aren't they adorable?" Skip asked. "Bella would'a punched me in the face," he whispered, and I snorted. "Seriously, Maggie-Mags, come have a drink."

Sonny gestured to the booth.

I sipped my scotch while Maggie had wide eyes, staring at me. "What's your poison?" I asked her.

"Appletini?" Sonny asked.

She shook her head. "Soda?"

"You can't have soda here," Carlisle said. "Surprise her with something sweet. Balls that big…" He slapped money into my hand. "Her first drink's on me. Hell, you want a dance, sweetheart? My treat."

We all chuckled at that.

"All right." Sonny stopped Maggie from sitting down. "Youse got a good laugh. We're leaving." He pulled her into his side.

"Come on." Carlisle widened his arms.

"No, he's right . . . I need to get my ass home, too." Skip smiled. "Gino can gimme a ride." He left the booth.

"You chillin', gonna help a dude out?" I asked Carlisle.

He raised a brow. "Fuck…Help you with what?"

I chuckled to myself as the rest of our party left Eclipse.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**T**_wo hours later, the club was empty. No one was here, and I was left to close up. Carlisle did what he was good at, counting money and separating it, while I got busy cleaning the office. I used two of those black industrial trash bags and a shitload of duct tape to wrap Caius up.

Then I bleached the floor. After all these years, the process goes by quickly, and the sun was about to rise as we loaded Caius into the back of my whip.

"Can we get coffee?" Carlisle looked dead on his feet, massaging his forehead.

"Yeah." I sniffled, the stench of bleach still stuck in my nose.

"We taking the boat out or…?" he asked, hopping into the front seat.

I followed in after him, starting the car, and I hadn't the faintest clue. "We could hotwire C-Bag's speed boat? It's out in Jamaica Bay."

"Whatever . . . Alex is gonna have my ass."

I nodded. "Lisa just can't believe that shit comes up."

"It's gonna be cold as fuck." Carlisle was already shivering, placing his hands by the heaters.

"Bitch," I commented.

"I'm tired, too." He yawned. "But listen, I don't know what game my brother's playing . . . how calm he was?" Carlisle turned to face me.

I shrugged. "He asked to see pics of my granddaughter…"

"Yeah, but he was too calm. I hope he was genuine. You know? Sonny and he had a long-ass talk. What did he say to you?"

"He didn't want to discuss it." I pulled off. "Sonny gave me his word—he won't touch Katie. He has no right to do so . . . Sure, what she did was wrong, but they weren't married."

"Thank fuck for that shit."

I blew out a breath, driving out of the alley. "I'm sure he's pissed, especially after this shit." I jerked my head to the back.

"We smoked before we got here. I swear to Christ. Weed is like the Skip-be-good magic trick." Carlisle threw his head back and laughed. "Just watch yourself."

"I always do," I whispered, stopping at a red light. "I always do."

We never took the boat out. We drove three blocks before Carlisle suggested we make it so our buddy could have a funeral. So, we drove up to the Bronx, to the seediest neighborhood, the darkest, quietest street, and just tossed his ass near a dumpster.

Then we went back to Eclipse to shower, clean up some more and have an Irish coffee.

As we walked out into the sunshine, I blanched back, shielding my eyes. "Fuck me, man."

Carlisle laughed, cigarette hanging from his mouth. "I need to call my secretary." He dug his cell out.

"No work?" I clicked my car's remote, hopping in.

He sighed. "Maybe later…get the twins off to school, catch a nap." He yawned.

"Dude, you have toddlers." I pulled away from the curb.

"My old ass has toddlers." He smiled. "They make me feel young." He placed his phone to his ear, making his call.

Carlisle fell asleep after he got off the phone with his secretary, and I didn't give a fuck. I blasted some music, but because my boy has toddlers, Carlisle didn't stir. When I pulled up to his crib, I gave him a nudge as I saw Li'l Eddie.

He made a face as his father stumbled out of the car. "Late night again, Dad?"

"Yeah…" He stretched.

"Right. See ya!" Li'l Eddie waved, walking across the street.

I watched him go and then turned to my buddy. "See ya!"

Carlisle smiled, strolling up his walkway.

It was going on seven o'clock, and if I hurried home I could catch Lisa before she left for work. The ten minutes it took to get me home actually dragged to twenty—morning traffic, school buses, and it wasn't like I could dodge them.

Luck was on my side, though. My wife was leaving our crib, trying to balance her travel mug and her briefcase as she locked the door.

"Hey!" I shouted, opening the garage.

She stopped, smirking at me but she was fast to frown.

"Oh!" I grinned, wondering what that was about.

"I'm going to be late." She went for her Mercedes.

"Wait up." I hopped out of my car to sprint to her. "You gonna leave without kissing your husband?"

She sighed, turning to me. "Do you even deserve one?"

"Get over here." I pulled her into my arms, not caring about the coffee or her work shit. "Christ . . . Some days I miss you more than others." I searched her eyes, feeling a warmness in my gut, this comforting feeling, like no matter what—everything would be okay—something only Lisa can do.

"You smell like Ivory Soap," she whispered.

"Lisa—"

She pushed against my chest. "I'm gonna be late."

"No." I wouldn't let go of her hand. "I'm not fucking around. I'm not hiding anything. Well…baby, I need you to trust me." Truthfully, I was tired of this conversation, but I couldn't stop saying it.

"And you need to trust me, too—tell me things." She opened her car door.

"Just stop." I nudged it closed, taking both her hands. "Can we go inside—talk?"

"I have a meeting—"

"Fuck it," I said.

"Bella says—"

"We're not Edward and Bella." I nuzzled my nose to her cheek, but maybe I did need to tell my wife more.

She nodded, staring down. "Just tell me you're not."

"I'm not," I whispered, gazing into her eyes. "On my life, baby."

"You had to clean." She looked down.

Her words surprised me, but I nodded. "How—"

"It was either that or you were sleeping around. I'm not stupid. I've _been_ around. I've seen things. And it really sucks when you lie awake at night hoping—hoping someone died and that's the reason you're not home," she cried.

I grinned . . . because she cared. "Only you."

Her chin wrinkled and she wrapped her arms around me. "I miss you."

I groaned, hugging her tightly. "You have no idea." My nose buried itself in her hair, inhaling deeply. "God, I love you…and I'm not perfect, but…Lisa, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I've made stupid mistakes, put others first, but I haven't—"

She chuckled, pulling away and wiping her eyes. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing like that," I laughed.

"I'm not perfect either."

"You're pretty close." I palmed her cheek. "Meet me halfway. Let's fucking go away together." I shrugged. "After the holidays, after shit with Katie is settled…"

She nodded.

"C'mere." My fingers wove into her hair, and I claimed her mouth—tongues tangling, the both of us moaning . . .

"Um…" She panted, molded to me. "Take me to bed."

"Fuck, yeah." I pulled her into the house like someone was chasing us.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	31. Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA. **

**NOTE: As much as it pains me, I am taking many creative/fictional liberties as far as Dame's life as a third year med student is concerned. This isn't a medical story, and I have no interest in turning it into one. But with taking peeks into his life . . . his schooling might be featured. And if he was as busy as a REAL Third Year, we'd never see him.**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Thirty-One: Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde**

**Damion POV**

**M**y head whipped to and fro when I entered the Bay View Diner. Sonny was supposed to meet me here at eleven. His flight was coming in at around ten, and then he was coming straight here. Since I didn't see him, I had the hostess seat me, and I asked for a cup of coffee right away.

Last night, I got maybe two hours of sleep, listening to Amelia on the phone. She was emotional, and she wouldn't tell me what was wrong, swearing everything was fine, blaming it on her hormones. I tried my best—to be supportive and ease her mind, which was incredibly difficult because I didn't know what was truly bothering her. She either wouldn't or couldn't be straight with me.

What else is new?

She rants and raves about us being honest with each other . . . but no.

Amelia only wants _me_ to be truthful, tell her every-fucking-thing, and yet I'm wrong if I inquire about anything.

Then I had pre-rounds and rounds this morning. I have to be back at the hospital for three this afternoon as there is a lecture I have to attend.

Ironically, I'm doing my OB/GYN rotation. And I hoped to maybe get a nap before I had to go back. . . but I highly doubted that would happen.

The waitress came by and warmed up my mug. When I lifted my head, I saw my brother and Maggie walk into the diner.

I didn't know she was joining him.

"'Sup?" He jerked his chin as Maggie slid into the booth.

"Not much," I said, waving at them. "How was Florida?"

Sonny sighed, sitting next to her. "Warm, nice . . ." He nodded, grinning at his bride.

"Where did you guys go?" I had never asked, nor had anyone told me.

"Miami," Maggie said.

My gaze went right to Sonny. "Miami…? Was it business or pleasure?" I quirked a brow, knowing my brother has associates out there.

"Both," Maggie informed me.

Sonny gave her a look as if to say it wasn't my business, which it wasn't; I was just curious. "It doesn't concern you. I had some shit to do . . . and we hit up the beaches." He looked down to the menu. "What are you getting?" He pushed his over and they shared it.

I leaned back, watching Maggie's brow furrow, and it wasn't rocket science. It was fucking breakfast. For some reason, her being so serious over a meal irked me. "I'm getting waffles." I threw that out there.

It was still a mystery as to why I was here.

I figured he wanted to scold me or threaten me, or…I didn't know. I'd done nothing wrong when I went to his crib. Sure, I heard everything, but I was about to leave when Maggie caught me. I wasn't going to stick around or do some creepy . . . creepier shit.

Sonny used to do that all the time, bag a broad while I watched or was around. He thought it was hilarious.

"Santino, why don't I get pancakes? You can get eggs, bacon, and all that meat you love, and we'll share."

"Sounds good." He kissed her temple as the server approached our table again.

We ordered, and their sweetness made me want to gag. My brother was pussy-whipped to the highest degree, and I didn't understand it. He seemed calm and tranquil, when I expected him to still be a basket case over that Katie shit.

"How are you?" I asked him.

"Good." He nodded. "You?"

I shrugged. "I'm hangin' in, I guess. No complaints." I briefly glanced at Maggie. "How have you been?"

She smiled. "I've been well. Thank you for asking."

And it went right back to awkward.

"I haven't been around much . . . Anything new going on?" I asked.

They faced each other and then shook their heads, and I wondered if they shared the same fucking brain.

When Maggie's phone rang, it was almost a relief. "Who's that?" Sonny grabbed her phone. "Oh…it's Kylie."

"Who'd you think it was?" Maggie giggled.

Sonny didn't reply. "Can you get me the paper, please?" He smiled, digging a few quarters out of his pocket.

Maggie answered for my sister, taking the money out of Sonny's hand and walking off.

"You're letting her go on her own?"

"I can see her." He stared behind me.

"How's . . . married life?"

He beamed at me. "Amazing. We fight now, too—that's new. Oh my God. The shit she pulled before we left, bro." He was almost speaking to me as if nothing had ever happened. "I was late . . . She fucking rolled up at Eclipse with fucking Gino. The kid and I had a talk after that shit. He took my instructions of 'take her anywhere' too literally."

"Wow. What happened? She see anything?"

"No," he said. "It was Thursday . . . Only Aro was running shit. The rest of us were just drinking and chillin'." He scratched his nose. "No biggie."

"You score any of that good yak down in Miami?" I chuckled.

"Some…" He nodded. "You got tests coming up? You need some?"

I leaned toward him. "How'd you…sneak it into New York? You didn't…?"

"Fuck no." He scoffed. "I wouldn't let her touch that shit. I have my ways, bro. It actually got back to New York before we did."

"Oh…" I sipped my coffee. "I wanted to apologize for—"

"Don't." He put his hand up. "This shit right here? Was for us to chill, talk without beef. Get you used to seeing her face." He gestured over to Maggie. "I heard you that day, all nervous and sounding like some dumb-fuck. I'mma be nice about this because I'm secure in my marriage . . . You said you'd step off." He shrugged. "You only shot off at the mouth…I don't know, Dame. I mean, you got your own shit going—"

I nodded along. "I've got _too much _shit going down."

"You in love with her?" By his hostile tone alone, I think he was referring to Maggie. "There's no beef, just be straight with me."

I shook my head. "Not in love . . . _Not at all_," I laughed. "But there is a draw, and I am attracted to her…I'm being honest." I rushed out that last part. "I'm trying to move past it, and you do have my word."

"Cool," he commented.

"So, nothing's happened the past few weeks?" I asked.

He chuckled. "You're so concerned about _our_ business . . . You sure you really wanna be a doc?"

"I am…I'm just curious."

He hummed, setting his coffee mug down. "I heard you and Amelia set a date for the wedding? January 15th?"

"Yup…" Sonny bringing it up made my mind spin out of control. All these thoughts hit my brain at once—my worries, my fears, my hopes.

"You okay?" He placed his hand on mine, and I appreciated it—the human contact.

I gave his wrist a gentle squeeze. "She wants to get married before she starts showing." And that shit was just fucked. "Sonny, I don't think she was pregnant when she first told me. I don't know. The doctor couldn't find the pregnancy with the ultrasound—it was too early, but she'd been saying mad shit for weeks." I was at a loss for words. "Something's not right. No matter what I do or how I go about it, I'm seen as an asshole. I'm already questioning everything, driving her fucking crazy, and she can't understand what I'm trying to say. I think she went off her pills, and by some stroke of luck she got knocked up _after _she told Mom." I shrugged. "Or, like the week she told Mom. That makes sense. She was trying to get pregnant, knew she would, and…"

"What?" Sonny looked confused.

I chuckled but nothing was funny. "There's no such thing as being a little bit pregnant. You either are or you aren't, but she's not far enough along for me to think anything other than she actually did this shit to trap me."

"Oh!" His eyes widened.

"Then last night, she was going nuts…Some bullshit about us going down to City Hall. Amelia's trying to get us married even faster, sooner, before Christmas. All of which would mean…I'd get hitched tomorrow or Thursday?" My breaths became shallow and hard to come by with the thought alone.

"Dude, Dad gave you how many outs? If you have doubts, don't marry her—whether she's knocked up or not." He shrugged.

"I wish it was that easy. This is Luke Drasso's daughter."

"And Luke's Dad's bitch." He sounded exasperated. "I hate to say this, but—"

"Don't emasculate me."

"What?" he laughed as Maggie approached the table.

"Should I go use the bathroom?" She pointed. "I don't mind. I'm glad you two are talking."

Sonny kissed her hand. "If you wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all." She walked away.

I added more sugar to my coffee.

"Thanks for not checking out her ass," he said.

"Come on." I shook my head, stirring the creamer in. "Give me more credit than that." In this moment, _his wife_ was the last thing on my mind. Trust.

Sonny didn't comment about what I said. "Maybe Luke's predecessors had bigger balls, starting wars and shit, but Luke doesn't have the clout, nor does he have the manpower as of now. Dad's pretty smart, running their shit, making sure they never got too big. If we have the books closed, then they have to keep 'em closed as well. Dad bunches dudes together to have a large ceremony . . . If Dad gives four guys their button, Jersey might make one person. That's just an example." He waved a hand.

"Okay." I adjusted my glasses.

"He respects Luke and his family for what they are. He'll try to do the right thing but not at the expense of your happiness."

"I hate that I'm even placing him in this position. I do love Amelia."

"Come on, bro." He looked away from me. "She's gorgeous, has a decent head on her shoulders. But I can see how she's getting pressured from her family…Maybe she's in love with you, and since you're being distant, she's clinging. I know women, but I don't know your girl. You need to talk to her. You have a problem, open your mouth."

"And how does shit work with you and Maggie?" I asked, curious.

"I don't know." He was nonchalant as the waitress brought our food. "It just works. I adore her, I can't keep my hands off her, and…actually, we're both very sexual. We talk a lot, though, too. And—"

"She's compliant."

He barked out a laugh. "Maybe in the beginning, she was all—she wanted to make me happy and shit, but…" He made a farting noise with his mouth. "She hangs out with Mom and Kylie too much—she's fucking pushing me around these days. But what's funny about it? I don't mind." He seemed really happy. "I love that she's bossing me around. For a while, I was always asking her a dozen questions—making sure shit was cool. Now? We're just chill. Neither of us are going anywhere . . . Where is she?" He looked around. "Lemme go get her before this shit gets cold." Sonny left the booth, going for the bathrooms.

"Oh." He turned back and leaned down to me. "While you were ghost, I iced Caius, Katie's in the wind—Aro thinks I'mma do something—and I fired Layla," he whispered out in a hurry.

"Whoa," I laughed, shaking my head. "He's gone?"

He nodded, walking off. "They're having the services later in the week, between the holidays."

I pouted where I sat, and I wasn't even hungry anymore.

If there was ever a fucker on this planet I would have enjoyed clipping, it was Caius Macari.

The rest of breakfast passed by quickly. Yeah, my brother and his wife were still acting all sickly sweet, yet hot at the same time. They truly couldn't keep their hands off of each other, and at one point I swore he was fingering her under the table. But he wasn't. He was just…I don't know what he was doing, or maybe her pancakes were just_ that_ good.

"So, how's Amelia feeling?" Maggie asked me as we walked to Sonny's car. "You haven't said."

Sonny's phone rang. "I have to take this."

"Bro, go 'head," I said. He didn't have to worry about me.

Sonny walked to the curb to speak rapidly on his cell.

"Amelia," I sighed, staring down to my shoes. "She's good." It was still increasingly difficult to lie to Maggie with the honest eyes, just like it was that first night we met.

"How far along was she again?" she asked.

"Was?" I raised a brow. "She's eight weeks."

"Oh." Her face fell.

"What's that about?" I pointed to her frowny face.

"Nothing. It's just that…like everyone knows." She shrugged. "My mom…she had two miscarriages before I was born, and she said it was always—the pregnancy should be kept secret until after twelve weeks?"

"Right." I nodded. "Do you know something I don't?" It seemed like she was hinting at something.

She studied her sneakers. "Most miscarriages happen that early. I bet Amelia is really nervous. Your mom said that's common, too—for women to be nervous." She rambled. "I'm sorry."

"_You…_don't have to be nervous," I said.

"Oh, I'm not," she giggled. "It's just not my business, and I'd hate for you to think I'm intruding."

"Me?" I laughed. "You, intruding?"

She gave me a look. "Stop while you're ahead, Dame." She sounded just like Kylie, which made me crack up.

"I was just saying."

She laughed, covering her face. "Well, you just say a lot of things that tend to get you in trouble. That's all _I'm_ saying." She pointed to herself.

Sonny clapped, walking back from the corner. "We ready to go?"

"I am." Maggie rubbed her stomach. "I'm stuffed."

"We'll drop you off at Mom's. We gotta go to her school and get her shit for the winter break." He went to the car to help Maggie inside.

"Um…I'll walk." It was actually nice outside, on the warm side, even if it was days before Christmas.

"You sure?" he asked, talking to me from over the car. "That was Dad. Grandpa's plane is coming in tonight. You gonna make it for dinner? We're meeting at La Bella Italia when he gets here—late supper."

"I totally forgot about that." I held my head, knowing I'd have to devote some time to Edward Sr. But he is here for a few months . . . "I won't make it to dinner tonight."

"What were you guys talking about?" He kept his tone hushed.

"Nothing in particular." I buttoned my coat.

"Well, the twinkle in your eyes is kinda hard to hide." He entered the car.

"Sonny." I tapped on the passenger side window.

He opened it, staring at me with this blank face, and I kept a respectable distance away from Maggie.

"We gonna be okay?" I asked. "I don't even know what you're talking about. What twinkle?" My stomach tied in knots because I seriously had no clue.

"We'll get there . . . I'll see you this week."

I stepped back as he pulled out of the parking spot.

And I never stopped by my parents' house.

After hopping on the R train, I took that shit back to my dorm, where I managed to get a two-hour nap. Amelia called a record of eight times while I was sleeping, and I'd left my phone on vibrate. I didn't even want to check my messages, sure that there were eight shriek-y girl rants on my voice mail.

"Fuck me, man." I groaned, just throwing my phone back onto my bed. Pushing that shit outta my mind, I grabbed my toothbrush and went toward the bathroom. The hall was desolate, quiet with most people having gone home for the holiday.

Luckily for me, I still had to be here, even on Christmas day as I'd been off for Thanksgiving.

Today was a light day for me and my team, which consists of one attending physician (the boss), two resident physicians (doctors in training after medical school), and two medical students. The only one who changes between the different rotations is the boss, who we follow.

Essentially, I am no one. The attendings only listen to the residents, who I answer to. It's a chain of command just like that other shit—the family business.

Jordan and I—the other student I work with—look out for each other. We cover for one another, too, although she's meticulous and annoying and always on point. I hardly ever have to look out for her.

Dressed and ready to go, I glanced at my watch. I was going to be late. Tossing my stethoscope around my neck, my phone started ringing again. Aggravated, I just shut it off and ran out of my building.

Being late to this lecture was like a low blow. The past few weeks, I've rededicated myself, and I swore I'd never be late again, but I was . . .

As if I was in a marathon, I ran to the hospital. My side was killing me as I entered the elevator, and I wished I wasn't a smoker.

After placing my shit in my locker, I put my white coat on and hauled ass down to the lecture hall.

I signed myself in, and then looked around for Jordan. She must have known I was going to be late. Jordan will usually sit toward the front, but she was slumped in the back.

"Did I miss anything?" I whispered, swinging my leg over hers to sit down.

"No." She pulled a piece of paper out of her notebook. "I took notes for you." She dejectedly handed it over, eye focusing on her laptop.

"What's this shit even about?" I asked.

"Post-surgical complications."

"What?" I nearly spat but kept my tone low. "We sat through this in the beginning of the year."

She shrugged. "Then take a nap."

I blew out a breath, relaxing back.

As I pretended to listen, I turned my phone back on to text Amelia. Quickly, I explained my situation—that I couldn't talk and that I'd been busy at the hospital all day. She had to understand.

_Where are you now? _

I rolled my eyes and wrote her back, explaining—yet again—that I was at the hospital.

"You better put that away," Jordan said.

I put my cell back in my pocket. "You been here all day?"

She took her glasses off to clean the lenses. "No, I went home to shower." Jordan faced me but averted her gaze. Following her line of sight, she stared at the dude next to me. "A couple of us are going to that bar after shift."

"Oh, yeah?" I slumped back, yawning. "You gonna get the balls to talk to this cat finally?" Chuckling under my breath, I turned to this idiot she's been lusting after. He's a fourth year and had no idea she even existed.

"Yeah, right. Me?" She snorted. "Maybe when I lose these last ten pounds…"

"Don't start with that." I rushed out. "You look…fine." My eyes went from her Crocs, up to her scrubs, and landed on her brown eyes. She is overweight, short and round like a meatball, but she's cute—has a pretty face.

She stuck her tongue out. "He's originally from Georgia. I bet he goes back in July . . . We can't all be knockouts like your Amelia." She teased, poking my bicep; meanwhile, all she's seen is Amelia's picture on my phone. Amelia thinks Jordan is a guy. There was no way I could tell her that I work this closely with a woman. She'd go insane, when she has nothing to worry about. "Or that lucky in love. You guys sound cute."

Of course, I only ever speak of the good things. Jordan and everyone else thought I'd been out—in the hospital because a taxi hit me. I told Dad to make some shit up when he spoke to my advocate, the student liaison, and he said that shit. No one knows Amelia and I are engaged or expecting a child. Here, all they know is my name. The higher-ups, most of them, know my father since he's on the board here—a silent member. All he does is donate beaucoup bucks to this place.

"You should bring her tonight."

I shrugged, feeling my eyes get heavy, and she knew I wasn't going to go out with them. I never do. Jordan only invites me to be polite. Come to think of it, she never usually goes either. Jordan invites me all the time, but something always comes up for her, or she gets too wrapped up in studying.

"Here." She handed me a cup.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Cold coffee."

"Nice." I sipped it, and there wasn't any sugar in it. "I hate these." This whole time, an instructor has been using Point and speaking of Post-Surgical Infections. And he sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher—wah, wah, wah, wah-wah. "Are you really going tonight?"

She grinned. "Hansen is going to be there. It's his birthday." Jordan stared to my side again. "Maybe he'll get drunk enough and…" she sighed, eyes going back to her laptop.

"Stop it," I said.

"Do you know how long it's been?"

"Whoa…we're not discussing that," I laughed quietly to myself.

"Yeah, well…" She puffed her cheeks, closing her MacBook. "Oh God, this is boring."

I nodded, facing the front, deciding to pay attention while I hoped I didn't nod off.

By the time the lecture concluded, it was close to six p.m., time for evening rounds. Jordan and I went up to OB to catch up on charts before our pre-rounds.

Our deans told us at the beginning of the year that we would be talking with patients more than anyone else on the medical team; we would serve as advocates for our patients' wants and needs. They said that although our medical knowledge is still rudimentary in comparison to the doctors above us, the patients commonly remember the students more than anyone else.

It comes down to time. The residents and attending physicians have several patients to see each day, and they only have time to briefly visit the bedside to elicit key information that affects patient care.

We're considered the lucky ones. While our residents are busy managing more than a dozen patients each—most of whom have multi-systemic, complex problems—we students are beginners, entrusted to manage a handful of patients at a time.

As beginners, it takes us more time to think through algorithms of management and treatment options.

A handful of patients is plenty. Having only this select few allows us to really get to know our patients as people—to sit at their bedsides and hear their stories, beyond the details that affect their care.

"Look…" Jordan started, wiping her nose with a tissue.

"You getting sick?" I asked.

She waved a hand. "I need to straighten my hair." She pointed to the tight bun on her head. "My hair's still wet. Blah. Let's split up. You take rooms 205 to 210—"

I shook my head. "You take those…I've been treating Mrs. Carlson since she was admitted Sunday. She's in 212."

"Whatever." She shrugged. "Just take a stack and let's go." Jordan gathered a bunch of charts and took off. Truth be told, I'd never seen her so blasé. She must really wanna go out tonight. Usually, she's this know-it-all Poindexter, who'd body-check me to get to a patients' room first.

But to be so stress-free . . .

To just be here, work, learn, and worry about some cat, a crush . . .

It must be nice.

Then again, they always say the grass is greener on the other side.

I was jealous that she had the ability to just do this—be the best third year there is. She's definitely at the top of my class while I'm scraping by in the middle somewhere.

My parents think I excel and I'm so great despite all that other shit. They have no idea. I've been in slacker-mode since Amelia and I have been together, since I let my outside life fuck with this one, making me miss lectures and days . . .

It's all my fault. I can't blame anyone but myself. I'm the one who let everything get to me. I'm the fucker who drove himself crazy, acting a fool.

For a while, it felt like I was in the back seat while this lunatic drove the car—lived my life.

Things just became too much . . .

_I drove myself crazy. _

Although they say med students are no strangers to depression.

And then I was in the hospital, hit rock bottom, and had to get myself up off the floor. Dad and Sonny helped—fuck, my whole family was there for me, but I had to take the first step.

I dusted myself off and tried again, and I think it'll be better . . . over time, I'll get better.

Amidst Amelia's pregnancy and my future nuptials, I've obtained a calmness I can live with. I'm cool as a cucumber, back to being quiet, yet I have . . . an inner peace? Hope that things will even out?

Actually, I've been trying my hardest to separate things—hospital, school, patients, and then my personal life . . . I try to keep all that shit out of my head until I physically leave the hospital and/or campus.

It's like literally being torn in half—a part of me stays in Brooklyn while the other is here in Manhattan.

And I was more than okay with that. Believe it or not, I'm a lot more comfortable in the skin I'm wearing now—being my true self, the quiet nerd.

That other guy . . .

Keeping the beast locked up and stored away insures that my soul will stay tranquil as I work toward my academic goals.

Sighing, I placed my pen in my breast pocket and closed the chart in front of me.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

An hour later, Jordan and I met up at the nurses' station. We were waiting on our residents, so we could relay the patient information.

"Come on." Jordan wrung her hands together. "Where are they?"

I sipped my coffee. "I'm sure homeboy won't turn into a pumpkin," I laughed. "You'll get there when you get there." Speaking of, I peeped Hansen down the hall. "Look." I pointed.

She squeaked and turned to face me. "Do I look okay? Do I have ink on my face?" She rubbed her cheek.

"Why would you have ink on your face?" I asked.

"Cullen." She hit my arm.

"You're fine. Geez." I snorted, guzzling my tenth cup of coffee.

"I should bring him coffee." She went back over to the pot.

"Don't you dare," I said.

"What?" She had wide eyes.

"Nothing…do whatever."

She walked down the hall as I saw our residents—Rodriguez and Mackay—coming toward me. Jordan hadn't seen them. They were dressed for the operating room, like they were just in surgery.

"Cullen." Rodriguez gave me a head nod, going for the charts. "You could read my handwriting today?"

I nodded, not saying a word. In this setting, it truly is best to be seen and not heard, unless briefing someone on a patient or asked a direct question.

"Where's Yogi?" Mackay asked.

"Who?" I quirked a brow, and I didn't mean to sound snappish.

Mackay and Rodriguez laughed.

"He thinks Jordan looks like a cub—a baby bear." Rodriguez shrugged. "She's more like a Oompa Loompa."

"Dude." Mackay gave him a high-five.

They're bullies in every sense of that word. They're dicks—arrogant assholes—for a reason. Medical school is supposed to be hard, right down to the motherfuckers who teach us. I'm sure they have a name or two for me as well, when I'm not around. Nonetheless, they're smart—know their shit—which makes working with and tolerating them easier.

Mackay hummed, composing himself as he stared at his watch. "No call tonight . . . it's going to be swe-eet!"

They continued to talk amongst themselves while I looked around for Jordan. They'd ream her a new asshole, make our lives hell if Dr. Swanson, our boss for the time being, showed up before they were briefed on the patients we'd seen.

Luckily, she showed up not ten seconds later. Jordan still had the coffee in her hand. "Coffee?" She offered it to Rodriguez.

He took it and didn't say thank you.

"What happened?" I whispered.

She ignored me, getting her notes in order.

After we spoke of all our patients, convened about their care, we had to visit all of those people once again. This time, Jordan and I took the back seat while Rodriguez and Mackay did all the talking. They're the true doctors, working under Swanson. He only does a quick swoop after we'd done all the work.

The clock read ten after nine when it was all said and done. Rodriguez and Mackay left rapidly, leaving us to study their notes in each chart.

"What happened with Hansen?" I asked.

She frowned. "He doesn't drink coffee."

"Doesn't drink coffee?" I laughed. "That's like our fuel—our crack."

"Yeah, well . . ." She stuck her tongue out. "He called me Jessica, something with a J." Suddenly she smiled.

I did, too. "Make sure you talk to him tonight—get him to buy you a drink."

"How do I do that?" She turned to face me.

I furrowed my brow. "I have no idea."

She laughed and I joined her. "I'm done . . . I'll read up in the morning."

I sighed, having no place to go, not wanting to leave.

"You should really come out tonight." She hit my arm. "Take a load off."

"I don't drink," I said.

"So…have a soda and watch everyone make asses of themselves. That's what I do." She pointed to herself. "I have no idea how the residents get shit-ass drunk, and yet they function the next day." She rambled. "After being here all day, the reading I do when I get home, going to bed sober, and getting a few hours sleep . . . I can barely keep up. Maybe I'll have some wine." She grimaced.

"Have fun." I grabbed for another chart.

"Cullen." She nudged my arm, her tone different.

"What?" I looked up to her.

She stared behind me. "Is that…?" Jordan pointed, looking confused. "It looks like your girlfriend."

Turning around, I saw Amelia. "Fuck me." I dropped my shoulders, wondering how she knew where to find me. It was fucking insane. She knew I was on this floor. She knew I was still here, but . . . to show up? I was concerned and pissed, and I wished I wasn't angry.

But I was . . .

The beast roared, rattling his chains and banging on the bars of his cage—my muscles stiffening, my teeth gnashing together for the briefest of seconds, my eyes likely black with rage.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jordan said.

I let out a slow breath, remembering where I was as she walked around me, and I swore to keep cool—calm the fuck down.

Jordan passed Amelia on her way out. And in true Amelia fashion she gave Jordan a dirty look before her eyes landed on me.

Like ripping off a bandage, I didn't waste any time.

I approached Amelia, ushering her out into the waiting room. "What's up?"

"I needed to talk to you."

I led her over to the chairs. "This couldn't wait? You know I usually get out around ten on Tuesdays."

Her lip quivered. She was on the verge of tears.

"Stop." I wiped them away. "You can't make a scene here."

"Last night, I woke up . . . I was bleeding," she cried. "That's why I called you but I couldn't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, no." I pulled her into my arms, and . . . I had no immediate reaction. Although embracing her was a push in the right direction.

"The doctor said—said it happens."

"Did you tell my mother or Kylie?" I asked, remembering that odd conversation I had with Maggie. My sister tells her everything. Or, who knows? Maybe Sonny knew, too, and that's why he was being so nice to me. And I couldn't be angry with them for keeping that secret from me. If I'd stopped by my parents' house, my mother would have definitely told me—regardless of if Amelia wanted to inform me herself—but everyone else would want to keep their beaks out of it.

"Yeah…my mom called her, so…yeah." She sniffled. "I asked them not to tell you. I wanted to."

"Have you seen a doctor? Do you know if it's definitely gone?" I felt like the coldest prick alive, because I also felt immense relief amongst the acute sadness. It took a few seconds for the emotions to register.

"I called my doctor. She said since I wasn't that far along . . . I should just monitor my blood loss and get some rest. I went to see her today. They took blood to test my levels, and I go back for another blood test in two days . . . it's gone."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Me too." She hugged me tightly. "I just wanted to tell you…to your face."

I nodded, leaning away to wipe her eyes again. "Let me get my stuff, change my clothes, and we can go back to my room."

She shook her head. "I just wanna go home. I want my own bed, my bathroom…I dunno."

"Amelia…" I whispered; she was being weird. "Baby, I'm sorry this happened."

"You're not."

"Please," I begged. "Don't turn this into a fight. Let me be here for you, care for you. I can't go back to your place, but we can kick Ethan out…you can stay with me." I grasped her hand.

"Pietro is waiting for me."

I nodded, solemnly, at a loss for words. Then something hit me. "Is this why you wanted to move up the wedding?" I bet when I put the brakes on that shit, that was when my mother was informed. Otherwise—fuck me—I wouldn't put it past Amelia to fake a miscarriage after we were married.

The trust was gone, flew out the window on Thanksgiving, and has been missing ever since.

She sobbed into her hands. "I love you." Once a-fucking-gain, she dodged a question.

"I love you, too. But I want you to know that I would have married you without the baby," I whispered. "I was going to ask you anyway."

"What about now?"

"Now…?" I didn't know where to begin. "We do need to talk. I want you to be straight with me. I'm walking on eggshells, trying not to upset you because everything makes you upset—"

"You questioning everything I say—"

"Because you're being dishonest, baby." I pushed her hair away from her shoulder, trying to be soothing, trying to stay calm. "I've known something's been up . . . I'm not being insensitive, but was there ever a baby? Or did you slip your doc a few bucks—"

"I miscarried last night, and you—" She sobbed, had stopped talking to cry into her hands.

"Amelia, I work here." I looked around to the other faces in the room. The few others who occupied the space graciously ignored us. "You shouldn't have come here." There were a million things we needed to discuss, but this wasn't the place to do it. "Let's go back to my room—"

"No. I'm not doing this with you tonight. I can't. My heart can't take it. If you don't want to marry me anymore…"

"I do," I lied, because if she truly miscarried, she couldn't take another blow. And maybe, once I was hers, she'd go back to normal. Amelia could start acting like Amelia again. And I . . . There was no way I could go back, be the intense lunatic she fell in love with. Now, I was in dud-mode. Trust me; it's best I stay this way.

Maybe if we were married she wouldn't have all these doubts. Maybe she won't be this insecure, harping on me all the time.

Amelia was perfect. We were perfect—no matter which version of myself I was . . .

At the end of the day, our fallout was my fault again. I became detached, but that was me, not her. And the result of me doing that is her current behavior.

"But hey, now you can go big—plan a huge wedding." I widened my arms. "Right?" I grinned, taking both her hands in mine. "We can get back to normal without all the crazy . . . Baby, I'm sorry for the last month. I'm sorry I—"

She placed her finger over my mouth. "I love you so much it drives me crazy. But sometimes I think I love you more than you love me, and it breaks my heart."

I wasn't going to reply to that, not here. "I wish you'd come back to my room with me. We need to talk, the sooner the better, and . . . I want to be with you tonight, make sure you're all right." I couldn't kiss her here, so I squeezed her knee.

She shook her head. "I wanna go be with my mom."

"I understand."

"I'm still bleeding…I want my own bathroom." That was understandable as well. "Come back with me." She pulled on my hand.

"Jersey? I gotta be back here for five a.m.," I said. "You know my schedule."

She drew in a shaky breath. "I guess I have to get used to being number three in your life. It's medicine, Maggie, and then me."

"Whoa . . . That's a lie—not true at all." I nearly shouted. "Who's filling your head with this garbage?" She was teasing the beast, dangling the key to his cage right in front of him.

"I have eyes . . ." She trailed off. "You're going to tell me it's not true? I know it's not her. She's not pursuing you."

"Maggie's my brother's wife. That's all she is, and before that, she was Kylie's friend." I groaned under my breath. "You know I fucked up here. One more wrong move, and I'll get kicked out of the program," I whispered. "You know I'm doing everything I can to get back on track. I'm offering to leave now and go back to my room—that's a compromise. That's me meeting you halfway…" And this conversation was just ridiculous.

Amelia, who doesn't do halfway, stared at the tiled floor—not saying a word.

"If Pete's waiting for you . . . You know what? Why are we trying?" I asked. "You can't be honest with me about this pregnancy." I snorted, leaning back and letting go of her hand. "You bust my balls at every turn . . . I feel like I don't know you at all."

"That makes two of us," she said. "I don't know who this is." She gestured to me, deflecting, ignoring everything I'd said. I knew what she was doing. I do it all the time.

I widened my arms. "I'm…me, Damion."

Honestly, I wanted to break down all of my true attributes and/or qualities, apologize to her—because she'd fallen in love with one side of me, the part of me I was trying to kill and bury. I'd never mourn that loss.

"You still won't answer any of my questions." I chuckled. "The wedding's off until you can be straight with me." I left the chair.

"Wait!" She grabbed me. "What do you mean, off? I got pregnant. Even if, even if it's gone, we have to get married."

Dr. Swanson walked into the waiting room, going over to a family that sat across the room.

"Amelia," I whispered. "We can't talk here. You wanna talk? I told you. Come back with me. If not? We'll talk this weekend. We'll air it all out, come to a conclusion…but as of now…I'm sorry. There's no way we can get married with all these issues." We were done. There would be no wedding. Our relationship had run its course, and her miscarriage—if there really was one—had been a godsend.

She stood up and then turned from me, leaving the room.

I groaned, staring up to the ceiling.

And I didn't go after her.

That was exactly what she wanted, too—me to chase her—but I couldn't do it. The thought made me queasy.

My head was totally fucked as I left the floor, going to the locker room, but I pushed it all out of my mind. As I changed back into my clothes, Hansen—Jordan's fourth year crush—walked in. He ignored me, going to his cubby, and a brief thought came to mind.

"Hey," I said.

He threw his scrub top onto the bench. "Cullen, right?"

"Yeah."

"Edward Cullen—that's your father?"

I wasn't going to answer that. "You heading to The Cove? It's your birthday, right?"

He sat on the bench, leaning his hand to his knee. "It is…" He stared me down, like sizing me up. It made me uncomfortable.

"Um…" I pursed my lips.

"You heading there, too?" He stood up to shimmy out of his pants. "Maybe you can buy me a drink."

"What?" I shook my head in confusion, looking away. He was just standing there in his boxers.

"How'd you know it was my birthday?"

In my periphery, I saw him adjust his cock.

Still trying to do my good deed for the day, I racked my brain to think up something to say about Jordan, bring her up in the conversation. "Jordan mentioned it."

"Who?" he asked, walking toward me.

"She brought you coffee earlier?" I went back to my locker to grab my coat. "She'll be there later . . . maybe _you_ can buy _her_ a drink."

"She's not my type."

"Oh…" I didn't know how to respond to that. We all have our types. "Well, enjoy your night."

"You should stop by." His gaze fell to my dick.

"Oh!" My eyes widened. "Wow."

"Wow, what?" He grinned.

I shook my head.

He chuckled to himself. "Usually I have better intuition, but I can't get a good read on you. I see you around . . . Which team do you bat for?"

Able to read him well as soon as I paid attention, I laughed. "I'm straight...and I'm guessing…?"

"Oh, I'm gay, very openly so." He nodded. "It's a shame, though." Now he checked me out . . . openly.

"It's my loss, right?" I winked.

He laughed. "Still…you should stop by. Have a drink with me."

"I…I shouldn't, but thank you." I looked down to my phone to see if I had Jordan's number, and I didn't. "Goodnight."

Leaving the hospital, my stomach growled, and my head whipped—looking for a place to eat. Sadly, I wasn't in the mood for food. I wanted a drink, but we don't always get what we want . . .

I opted to stop at a cart and get a hot dog, eating it as I walked to my room. Slowing down to a leisurely stroll, I thought about calling Amelia.

Though I didn't call her . . . didn't want a headache or more half answers.

But one thing was for sure.

We were still fucked.

We, as a couple, were going down the toilet . . . or we were floating in it already, the both of us needing lifesavers. Unfortunately, to preserve our lives, we needed to cancel the wedding—discontinue our relationship.

And I wondered what my life would be like without her.

Not wanting to think about that either, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my building in the distance.

The beast growled again when I got to my door; the black scarf was on the knob.

"Fuck…" The one night I just wanted to crash, Ethan had someone in there. "Yo, how long?" I knocked lightly.

"About an hour," he said.

I nodded, leaning on the hall wall. The last time he got lucky, Amelia was with me, and we rented a hotel room.

I didn't have my books. I didn't have anything to occupy my mind, and I thought about going over to The Cove—not to drink but to waste some time.

I could call Kylie, have her drone on and on about her day. That'd take about an hour, but I didn't have the patience—not tonight. In lieu of calling my sister, I sat in the common room and called my mother.

"Hey, baby." She sounded tired.

"Hey…"

"Amelia spoke to you?" she asked.

"She did…" I nodded.

"I'm sorry, baby. It happens, but she'll be okay. You know? With time you'll both be just fine."

"I know," I said. "Things are just so…"

"I know," she whispered. "She's just confused, Dame. Something didn't feel right about that pregnancy, but Elena swore Amelia was pregnant…I don't think she'd lie to me, unless Amelia was lying to her, but then you went to the doctor with her…"

"Yeah." All the doctor did was confirm the pregnancy and give her an estimate as to how far along she was. It was too early to really do much of anything else. It unethical, but for all that—for all I knew, Amelia could have slipped her doctor a few dollars to say that. Just like my father has connections everywhere, Luke has all kinds of people in his pockets too.

"You can talk to me," she sang.

"You know everything already. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't." I chuckled. "I can't talk to her…it's as if the lines of communication don't exist."

Mom sighed heavily. "I wish I had something more encouraging to say. You guys were doing so well, and then . . . Maybe you two need some space? Then you can reconnect?" she asked, sounding hopeful. "Amelia loves you something crazy. I know you think she's being dishonest, but maybe she isn't? I'm no lie detector."

"Yeah." I massaged my forehead. "It's my fault. I pushed her away, and she clung to me—by any means necessary, she held onto me." I shook my head. "This is just depressing me," I admitted. "I should go."

"We're at La Bella Italia. Why don't you come down?"

"No. I'm tired."

"You wanna say hi to Grandpa?" She sounded happy.

"No…I'll see you all this weekend."

"Okay, baby. Love you."

"Love you, too." I ended the call.

I got comfortable on the couch and closed my eyes. But then, it probably wasn't even twenty minutes later when Ethan nudged me awake. He had a redhead tucked under his arm. "We're heading to The Cove. You wanna come?"

"I'm cool. Thanks." He's another one who asks just to be polite.

"You sure? It's Hansen's birthday."

"You know Hansen?" I asked, surprised.

He shook his head. "Not even remotely. But it's a reason to drink—everyone's gonna be there, so…Oh, this is Melinda." He stared down to his honey.

I waved.

She waved...

"I'm gonna crash." I stood up to slap my hand to his.

"Fucking live a little. Come out," he said, and he says that every time he goes out to get drunk on micro brews.

He also had no idea how much I _had _lived these past few months.

I've done things people twice my age hadn't, things they'd never imagined doing. The only thing I'd never done—never experienced—was this, having friends outside my family, having…an almost Disney experience, the simplicity of college trials and tribulations. I'd been to bars, strip clubs, and casinos . . . but I never had the PG-13 version, which is supposedly fun. Nothing's ever serious. There are never any worries . . . I'd never—truly—partied a day in my life.

Getting drunk to forget your life isn't the same as getting intoxicated for fun.

Convening with others is to chill out, let loose, not to plot and scheme.

Going out is a reward for working hard . . . It's not a necessity, go out and meet up with others _to_ work.

"Where's Amelia?" His eyes danced around room, like she'd be hiding under the coffee table or something. "Doesn't she usually stay Tuesday nights?" he turned to his date "—and I stay out here those nights."

She smiled at his words, stars in her eyes.

Ethan sighed, his attention falling back on me. "Don't wait up."

"Fuck it. I'll go." I blurted, gesturing to the hall. "An hour."

From there, the three of us walked two blocks to The Cove, the university bar. It's this dive of a place that's always filled with all the nerds from the hospital. Another lounge that's a couple of streets away from here is where all the law students gather. It's funny—how we all have different hangouts. Or, I should say they—_they_ have separate locations where _they_ party.

_I_ never hang out _anywhere_.

Every chance I could get away was always spent with Amelia, and before her, I'd just head to Brooklyn—stick my nose in family affairs, get into whatever Sonny was doing that night. Fuck.

When I was working for Dad, I was never around here—not even to sleep, I never slept.

It was refreshing to walk into the bar.

No lie, I had an odd feeling in my gut, but it wasn't a bad one.

I wore a smile, and it felt like the start of something as I looked around the darkened pub.

None of these people truly knew me as Edward Cullen's son, nor did they know anything about me. These were my colleagues—people I knew informally, acquaintances at best.

According to them—all these relative strangers—I was just Cullen, a third year med student who lived on campus, who liked his coffee light and sweet and spent way too much time talking to patients, otherwise he doesn't say a word.

I had anonymity here—in Manhattan, at NYU, the hospital.

And I loved it . . .

I'd been here before—over a month ago when Amelia needed a drink, and we stopped in for a few. It was empty that time, but it was brimming with bodies tonight. Crammed with fuckers, I walked elbow-to-elbow with many, bumping into others. Plenty familiar faces crowded the bar, yet I couldn't recall their names. Classic rock pumped from the speakers, and everyone was grouped—three over there, four across the way and so on.

Third years chilled with their own, as did the fourth years and the residents. Most still wore scrubs, and I couldn't see Jordan amidst the horde. I figured if I found Hansen, I might find Jordan drooling someplace nearby.

Homeboy was tucked in the back, drinking with his buddies by the dartboard.

"You want a beer?" Ethan asked me.

As I continued to glance around, I came to the conclusion that Jordan never made it. "Um…yeah. A Bud." I nodded, thinking I could take a sip and just hold it.

"Have a Blue Moon," he suggested.

"Whatever." I didn't give a fuck.

Ethan waved a bartender down, while I leaned my ass on a stool, bopping my head to the music. The song had changed; _Paint it Black _by The Rolling Stones blared from the speakers. And even if the place was cramped, on the verge of suffocating, I really liked this scene.

"Isn't that...what's her name, your buddy?" He jerked his head.

"Who?" I asked as I could hardly hear him.

He laughed. "That short thing that runs circles around you."

"Ha, ha." I looked around. "Where is she?"

"Right there." He pointed, but I still didn't see her.

"Where?" The bar was three people deep, bills, money being waved for attention.

Ethan handed me a pint glass with an orange wedge. "Geez. How can you miss those tits?"

"Excuse me?" Melinda asked.

"Oh, you know I only have eyes for your . . . chest." He winced in my direction.

I chuckled, sipping the pale beer.

"Red shirt, Dame. You can't miss her—"

"Take me to the bathroom," Melinda said.

"I'll be back." Ethan squeezed my shoulder and then disappeared into the crowd.

That's when I saw Jordan.

It's not that I hadn't seen her, I just hadn't recognized her.

She sat at the bar with her head down, nursing a glass of wine. Her dark hair trailed down her shoulders, and it was pin-straight—not curly and frizzy like it usually is. Jordan had ruby red lips and cleavage so deep . . . I could probably see it from across the street. I was dumbfounded. I'd never seen her in street clothes before, so I had no idea the tits she had.

"Hey," I said.

Her head whipped to me, excitement in her eyes for a millisecond. "Oh, it's you." Her shoulders dropped.

"Yeah, it's me." I sat next to her.

"He's gay."

"What gave that away?" I laughed, openly checking her out. I didn't give a fuck. This was new—a new sight and side to her. Those fucking scrubs, man . . . Jordan had a body and a half that was hidden by scrubs. She was thick and curvy, and her breasts were humongous. Usually, she's just this frumpy, plain-looking . . . oompa loompa.

She handed me a piece of paper. "He asked me to give you his number. Just in case you changed your mind."

"Whoa…you can keep it," I said.

She finished her wine.

"Can I get you another one?" I asked.

She shook her head, looking down. "I'm already gonna feel like shit tomorrow." She faced me and then scoffed. "You're so pretty, it hurts my eyes. Go sit over there." Jordan pointed down the bar.

"Shut up." I nudged her, turning on the stool.

"I feel like such an idiot."

"How were you supposed to know? We all work together, but none of us know each other." I shrugged. "I don't even remember your first name."

"Jordan," she said. "My last name is Clarke, and there's some other dude named Clarke . . . I go by Jordan so there's less confusion."

"That makes sense. I'm Damion." Oddly, it was as though I was meeting her for the first time, yet we'd been working together for months.

"I know." She pointed to her temple. "I was a comic book junkie in high school, so Damion Cullen . . . I think DC Comics because you initial everything instead of using a legible signature." She rolled her eyes. "Don't judge me. Practically everything in here is remembered by some stupid mnemonic." She tapped her forehead and glanced at me. "I also think discharge or discontinue," she giggled.

I grinned, pushing my beer away from me. "So, Jordan Clarke . . . JC, JC," I racked my brain. "Junctional Complex . . . Joint Contracture. What else?"

She sipped from her bottled water, shrugging her shoulders and looking down on her luck.

"Where are your friends?" I gazed around her, behind her, and down the bar.

"I don't have any, unless you count my roommate, and she . . . She's a fucking weirdo." She covered her mouth. "I can't believe I said that. She's a nice person, just odd. I know I can be quiet, focused, but…" She winced.

"Where are you originally from?" I asked.

She sighed, waving for the bartender. Jordan was able to gain his attention quickly, although he only had eyes for her breasts. "Can I have another Merlot?" She went into her purse.

"I got it," I said, plopping a ten spot on the bar.

"Thanks," she whispered. "Fuck it, right?" She hardly waited for him to pass her the glass before she snatched it. "Bottoms up."

I almost reached for it myself. "If you're not a drinker . . . maybe you should slow down. 'Cause if we gotta count on _me_ to be the together one…" I chuckled.

She laughed, too. "You're good. You just need to be on time. Punctuality isn't a strong suit."

"Right." I nodded.

"I was born in Sweden . . . lived there until I was three, and then my mother married an American."

"Wow . . . that sounds interesting." To me, that was almost exotic in a way.

"Yeah, my stepdad was on vacation, and it was love at first sight or some crap. Who knows? I know I don't remember. We moved to Nebraska where he had a farm. They still live there."

"Nice . . . Do you plan to go back?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to. They're good people. I love my parents . . . they can just be suffocating?"

"I know what you mean," I said, slightly tugging on the bartender's sleeve. "Can I have a 7-Up?"

He quickly poured me one and pushed it over.

"What about you?" She turned her whole body to face me.

I averted my gaze.

Christ.

_That body . . . it was still a total shock. Voluptuous, stacked, thick . . . Fuck. _

"Cullen?" She tapped my shoulder.

"Um." I cleared my throat. "I was born and raised right here in New York."

"Oh, I knew that, figured that. You're Italian, too, right? You sound like one of those guys from the movies."

"Funny." I smiled. "I have an Italian accent?" I knew what she meant, but it was comical.

"No, like, you sound like Tony Soprano?"

"Oh, Jesus." I shook my head. "That's Jersey. Get it straight. I have a Brooklyn accent."

She put her palms up. "Excuse me."

I laughed my ass off.

"No…wait. How does that go?"

I just smiled, having no idea what she was talking about.

"Oh." She hit my arm. "Forget about it," she said it all wrong.

"Fuhgettaboutit!" I was louder, used my hands to help enunciate that shit.

"Ay! Fuhgettaboutit!" She shouted to the bartender. We all shared a laugh, and then composed ourselves.

"That was better." I studied the wood grain on the bar, feeling silly. Yet that felt good for some reason . . . just being silly. And I wasn't drunk or high or playing a role. It just was . . .

She giggled and then sighed, leaning back while pulling her shirt down. Her intention was to cover her stomach, but all she did was expose more of her breasts. Jordan didn't even notice. "You'd think I would have picked up that he was gay."

"You're still upset about that?" I asked.

"Well, I only crushed on the guy for two years." She frowned.

"There are plenty of fish in the sea." I didn't know what to say. "Straight fish."

"Everyone says that bullcrap." She sipped her wine. "Hey, did you check back on Carlson? Was her fever down from rounds?"

I shook my head. "I didn't get the chance to stop in again. They changed her antibiotics, gave her a cooling blanket, but she might have to be moved to telemetry for better observation." My post-op patient has been battling an infection along her incision. She was readmitted from the E.R after being discharged from her stay for her hysterectomy. "It wasn't that high, though. She'll be good." I nodded.

"That was your girlfriend, right? I didn't want to pry, or anything."

"Yeah . . . that was Amelia." I sipped my soda, now wishing it was scotch.

"Was she okay? She looked like…I don't know. When I saw her, it was a contrast to the pic you showed me. She had a beautiful smile."

"She does," I agreed. "We're just . . . I don't know. We're continually hitting these bumps in the road. You know?"

"Don't ask me," she laughed. "I'm married to my education." She hit my arm again. "Ever wish you wanted to be a plumber or a teacher? Just something simple? All I've ever wanted to be was a doctor, and I'm thinking about a surgical residency. It's like I'm a glutton for punishment. This is only going to get worse, more difficult." She ranted and then finished off her wine. "Every bad day . . . I want to pack my shit and run back to Omaha."

I didn't say anything. Some days I feel like that, wondering how much easier it'd be to just go along, get into the family business.

"Crap. It's almost midnight." She stared at her watch.

I chuckled. "That's nothing."

"We're on call tomorrow—today!" She palmed her forehead. "I need to get as many winks as I can. You know we're not sleeping tomorrow. I mean, much, much later." She grabbed her purse and hopped from the stool. "Walk me back?"

"Oh . . ." Since she was standing, I was able to see her large, bubble ass. "Um…" I massaged the back of my neck. "I just—"

"Christ. I'm not asking you, you know. Just walk me home. I'm two blocks away at Alumni Hall."

"So am I." I felt like an idiot for coming to that conclusion, and even dumber since we lived in the same building, and I'd never noticed. "I'm sorry. Of course." I stood up to button my coat. "What floor are you on?"

"Fifth," she said, placing her jacket on.

I helped her into it, pulling my hands back when she gave me some weird look. "Uh . . . the fifth floor. No wonder I've never seen you," I said.

"Dude, I'm always at the hospital," she laughed, walking past me.

I followed, and I enjoyed the view as I walked. She led the way out the door, and sadly I walked with her—side by side—once we were in the street. "Can you breathe?" I asked. "Your jeans are so tight."

"I have to lie down to get them on." She made a face. "And never you mind about my jeans, Cullen."

I smiled, placing my hands in my pockets. "You look nice tonight."

She furrowed her brow. "Thanks, I guess."

"I mean it. You should…do your hair more often. Then, you know." I shrugged.

She sighed. "You sound like my mother—you should hear her. I just don't have the time to care about my appearance."

"I'm sure you do. You go above and beyond what's necessary." It was true. She's thriving to be this super doctor, and she's a brown-nosing know-it-all, although it suits her.

"Hansen is very handsome, easy on the eyes . . ." She batted her lashes, acting silly, which isn't like her at all—not that I really know. "Even so, I wasn't looking for him to be my boyfriend. Who has time for that shit?"

"Well . . ."

"And you're late for everything." She teased. "I just wanted to get laid. Sue me. And then, if Hansen and I bumped uglies—"

"Bumped uglies?"

She ignored me. "I just wanted to use him for a booty call, every now and then."

"Right."

"At least I got that crap out of my head. I won't be all, creepy, stalker-like anymore."

"You weren't that bad," I lied.

"Yeah, I was." She nodded, pursing her lips. "He's still in the Spank Bank."

I snorted a laugh, cracking up. "Chicks have spank banks?"

"Are you kidding? I bet a woman made that up—that term." She lifted her chin, and I smiled at her. Jordan was adorable like this, with her inhibitions lowered to an extent.

"This is us." I went up the steps, taking my keys out.

"I'm so going to crash. I can't wait."

"Same here," I agreed, opening the door for her.

"Thanks . . . I'll see you tomorrow." She waved, keeping her back to me.

"Wait a second," I blurted, sprinting to catch up to her. "You wanna watch TV in the common room?"

Her brows rose, like that was some horrible concept.

"I'm sorry . . . Goodnight." I patted her bicep, turning for the stairs.

"Hey." She grabbed my hand, holding it limply to get my attention. "You okay?"

I nodded, smiling. "I'm perfectly fine."

Truth be told, I was tired of people asking me that; meanwhile, I shouldn't be fine. My relationship was in shreds. My baby—if there even was one—was no more. School and everything that comes with it—should feel like the weight of the world but truly isn't—doesn't even compare to the real life problems I had.

But Jordan . . . Chillin' with her was like an escape, sort of like my time at the hospital never ended, being DC—Damion Cullen—third-year med student, the guy with no personality, only this was more fun, and the visual . . .

"I just…" I checked her out again, stepping closer, our eyes meeting, and I held her gaze. She gulped, still staring up to me, and I took a step back. "Nothing. You should, you should…" I pointed up.

I realized I was being a coward. It had nothing to do with being attracted to Jordan or anything like that. She provided a diversion, and I was seeking another hiding spot.

She looked paler than usual suddenly. "Your eyes...they're paralyzing."

I didn't know how to respond to that, refusing to look at her.

"What was that?" She was grinning now.

"I don't know." I looked down to my shoes, nervous as hell. "Ever feel—you ever feel restless?"

She shook her head. "I'm always exhausted."

"Besides that."

"No," she whispered. "My life is relatively boring except for my work at the hospital. But that's why I'm here, in New York. I didn't come here to make friends or marry some hotshot rich doctor. I came here to learn, so I'm soaking up all I can."

"Nice." I dug that.

"To me, nothing else matters, and maybe _that's_ a curse."

"It sounds amazing. I wish…you know. My life was as simple as yours." I gestured to her.

"I said boring, not simple." She grinned. "I battle my own demons . . . trust me."

"Like…?" I rocked back on my heels.

"I'm a perfectionist, Type A personality with a touch of OCD. But I bet you knew that already...Sorry." She puffed her cheeks and reached to hold my arm as she took off her heels. "That's better . . . You know, we don't have to do this...make small talk? I'm not very good at it. But if _you_ need to talk, if something's bugging you, I can listen."

I stared down at her reddened toes. "You want a foot rub?" I knew right then and there that I crossed a huge line, but I didn't give a fuck. Her feet were cute and small, and I wanted to touch them.

"Um…" Her lips drew a tight line. "You wanna massage my feet?" She seemed confused.

"If they're hurting you . . ." I trailed off.

She blinked, staring blankly. "I'm sorry. What?"

I laughed. "The shoes...looks like they hurt your feet."

She nodded, her brow furrowed. "O-kay..." She walked toward the common room, and I continued to chuckle as I followed her.

But I stopped at the elevator. "Just come up to my room."

She stood next to me. "You have a girlfriend . . . are you allowed to do this? Is it some open, new age relationship deal?"

I rolled my eyes. "Just don't rape me . . . I'll call campus security."

"If that's a line, I ain't biting." She entered the elevator. "And who says no to a foot rub?" Her brows crinkled again. "Do you have any ibuprofen?"

"Yup." I hit the button for my floor.

It was a very short ride. Ethan was still at the bar, and I opened the door for Jordan. "I'm on the left."

She nodded, walking inside. "This is nice."

"Thanks." I threw my keys on the desk, taking off my coat. Then I took Jordan's jacket to hang it behind the door.

She sat on my bed, looking a bit lost.

Nervous, I plopped next to her and patted my knee.

"What?" she asked.

"Foot rub?"

"You were serious? I thought you just wanted to hang out." She was doubled over in laughter. "I thought it was a joke."

"It's…whatever." I shrugged, leaning back. "Do you smoke?"

She shook her head.

"I meant weed. I have some."

"No, thanks." Her gaze jumped around the room. "So, what happened with Amelia? What's got you looking so down and me here…?" She turned to face me. "You're a man of few words, so something _must_ be going on."

"We broke up." I sort of lied, but it flew out of my mouth fast.

In my eyes, all that was left to do—as far as Amelia and I was concerned—was have that horribly awkward conversation where we'd end things.

And in this moment, being this simple Dame, I wanted to forget about Brooklyn, Bay Ridge, Amelia, fucking all of it.

How much easier would my life be if . . .?

"That sucks. You should have said something. I mean, if you were looking for a rebound at the bar, I wouldn't have asked you to walk me back."

I sat up. "Give me your foot."

"You're another weirdo. Aren't you? If you lick my toes, I'm kicking you in the face."

I cracked up, grasping her heel, which made her fly back—her jeans were so tight.

"Hey!" She squealed, nudging my hand with her toes.

"You want sweats or something?" I asked.

She shook her head. "You're so fit, I bet my ass is too big for them."

"Doubtful." I gave her foot another squeeze, which made her groan.

"Get the other one." She pointed.

I smiled, doing as she asked, and then my cell started vibrating from inside my pocket.

I ignored it.

Jordan hummed, leaning on her elbows to stare at me. "I should probably go."

I kept her feet in my lap, holding them captive yet agreeing with her. "If you want…"

She looked away from me. "You're staring at me."

"You're gorgeous."

She scoffed, taking her feet back and rolling off my bed. "Stop."

"You don't believe me?" I laughed, since I had a semi to prove that shit.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She grabbed her coat from the hook.

I stood up. "Why is what I said so hard for you to believe?"

She turned around. "We see each other every day."

"So?"

"We work together," she whispered.

My feet stepped forward even if a stop sign appeared in my head. "We do."

She stared at my lips. "We'd still see each other every day."

I nodded, my heart thumping out of my chest. "We will."

"What are you doing?"

I swallowed, palming her cheek. "I don't know."

"We shouldn't."

"But you want to." My nose was touching hers, and I wanted this too.

"You're in the Spank Bank as well."

I smiled. "Thanks. It's an honor."

"You never say a word, but now you're talking too much." She licked her lips, getting on her toes.

"I am?" I pushed her hair away from her shoulder, and I wanted to bite her fucking neck. It was just smooth and soft, and she smelled like flowers.

"We do this . . . In the morning, this never happened. It can't be weird."

"I promise to wake up with amnesia." My nose skimmed her jaw.

She grasped my chin, placing her lips to mine, and my body took over. My brain shut the fuck up, my hands going straight to that ass—grabbing tightly and pulling her to me.

Our tongues tangled, and she moaned into my mouth.

Leaning away, I went for the hemline of her blouse. She let me undress her as she reached to take my sweater off of me. We were fighting to rid each other of our clothes, which made us both laugh as I stumbled out of my slacks, nearly busting my ass.

"Are you okay?" She grasped my forearms.

"Yeah." I was not deterred. "You're gonna need help with those jeans." I pulled off my undershirt, and my chain smacked down against my chest with a slight clank.

Her eyes zeroed in on that, toying with the medallion. "Who's this?"

"Saint Michael." I unbuttoned her pants, and then I pushed her back onto the bed to peel them off.

She scooted over to the pillows, pulling my blanket to cover herself.

I hopped in under it as well; content to go slower after that rapid start.

"Do you have a condom?" she asked, staring at the ceiling.

I reached into my nightstand for the box. "Yup." As I rested my head next to hers, I asked, "Are you nervous?"

"A little." She gave me a fleeting glance. "That kiss . . ."

I leaned over to kiss her cheek, letting my lips linger and trail to her neck. "Don't move."

She took that literally and stiffened as I left the bed.

"I'm just letting Ethan know I'm occupied." I opened the door to place the scarf on the knob before I fastened both locks—the one he has a key for and the other none of us do.

"Oh…" She settled down. "You know, maybe this isn't a good idea."

"Just relax." I got back in bed. "We don't have to do anything." And we really didn't. "I'll set the alarm. Just stay here."

"Can you shut the lamp?"

I reached over to do that, and then lay to her side, my thigh touching hers.

"Mrs. Carlson . . . Do you think they'll debride the wound?"

"Possibly," I said. "If the meds don't help."

She hummed, turning to face me, and I moved the blanket—to see her tits.

"They're beautiful…" My finger lightly touched the tops of her breasts. "Can you take this off?" She wore one of those industrial bras. It wasn't pretty or frilly, it was like a suit of armor to house those bad boys.

She smiled in the dark. "I thought we were going to sleep."

I reached to hold her hand, very content with that. "Do you and your family ever travel back to Sweden?"

"A few times," she whispered. "We still have a lot of relatives over there."

"That's cool." I rested our combined touch on my stomach. "Most of my family lives here in New York. Shit. We're within the same five block radius."

"Convenient," she said.

"I guess so . . . Hey, I toured Europe after high school." I turned, leaned up on my elbow. "I never traveled to Sweden, though. The closest I got was the Netherlands."

"Amsterdam?"

"Yup." I chuckled. "Good guess."

She yawned, looking tired.

"How 'bout a massage? A back massage?" I just wanted to touch her. We didn't have to fuck, but my hands needed to explore her curves—feel her softness.

"Sounds good." She got onto her stomach.

I kneeled in the bed, pulling the covers back to get a better look. She wore what most would consider granny panties, and that made me smile. But they were spandex and tight, and Julie used to wear these shits all the time. "You can take these off . . . I won't look. I know how uncomfortable they must be." It was a long shot; I pulled the waistband with my finger and let it snap back.

"Dammit." She got onto her knees to pull them down. "I do have something on underneath. The plan was to take these off before Hansen saw them."

I nodded, hoping to behave myself when she revealed a thong. Her ass was almost in my face. Fuck me. "You can trust me—I'm a doctor. Well, close enough."

"Is that what we're playing? Doctor?"

"If the scrubs fit." I grinned.

She clamped her eyes closed, going back onto her stomach. Her body was stiff as I ran my hands down her back. "Relax," I said.

She blew out a breath. "I just—I see you every day. Never in a million years did I ever think . . . Whatever, pretty boy. Get to massaging." She was still nervous and it didn't sound like she was tipsy anymore.

My hands went to her shoulders to squeeze them, and she melted into the mattress. Then I took my time kneading and rubbing her muscles, making sure to get those high-tension spots where she was the stiffest.

"Oh, God," she groaned. "You can use more pressure."

I didn't say anything, doing as she asked, my hands running down to graze her ass. She hummed, moaned, and groaned as I continued, and every time I went to her hips, I'd squeeze her ass, using a firm grip.

"This is in my way," I whispered in her ear, unclasping her bra.

She leaned up to take her arms out of the straps.

And now her whole back was exposed.

Even in the dark, I could see that my hard hands were reddening her pale skin. I eased up, going softer, lighter—skimming my nose up her spine, my hands running down her thighs, going north to her neck again, going back south, brushing along her the sides of her breasts.

This whole experience was sensual and sexy and relaxing—even for me, even if I was rock hard and I let her know, my cock touching her without thrusting my hips or being a pervert about it. There was nothing I could _do_ about it.

When my dick rested against her ass cheek and my mouth kissed up her back, she squirmed, sighing these moans that just urged me on.

With my lips on her neck, my chest flush against her back, I reached underneath us, down to her pussy. She was soaked, and the groan she let out welcomed me there. "Fuck, baby," I whispered, rubbing my fingers down her slit.

She lifted her ass, granting me more access, letting me explore more of her as she buried her face into my pillow.

"You like that?" My thumb twirled her clit.

She raised her head, breathing heavily. "Don't stop."

"I won't." My teeth scraped along her neck, biting down on her shoulder, which made her cry out.

A growl vibrated through my chest and my hand moved faster, my fingers entering her awkwardly—just the tips. I couldn't get a good grasp with being behind her like this. "Can I fuck you?"

"Yeah," she whined. "Yes."

I groaned, getting onto my knees fast, tearing the condom wrapper with my teeth, using one hand to fucking roll it on, my other flat on her ass, my thumb fucking her for the time being.

"Shit." She rocked back against my hand, rising from the bed.

I sat there and watched, my thumb pumping in and out of her rapidly. "Lemme take this off." My hand left her so I could discard her thong. Then I pushed her back down, my knees spreading her thighs. She was still on her stomach, and I wondered if she could feel my heart beating on her back—that's how fast it was going.

With one swift thrust, I entered her and we both cried out.

The beast inside of me was sated for a second at best before he wanted more.

My arms snaked around her shoulders, and I had her in this gentle full nelson, my lips planted at the nape of her neck, as I fucked her good—digging in there, long strokes, coming out to go all the way in, balls-fucking-deep.

As I fucked her, my mind wandered—thinking of all the things I wanted to do, all the possibilities, wanting to bury my head in those tits, get lost in that ass . . . It felt like I had more options since there was literally more to her physically.

While she was pushing against me just as roughly, she stiffened and yet went faster, and I felt her pussy hug me tightly. She came almost with no sound, letting out this small whimper as she tried to catch her breath.

I smiled into her hair. "Turn over." As my cock left her, I gave her ass a slap just to watch it jiggle.

"Hey," she giggled, swatting my hand away.

I grabbed her ankles, pulling her closer to me before I spread her legs. "My God." I ran my hands up her stomach to hold her breasts. Then I fucking dove for them, my dick finding her quickly. Her tits were so big, I smashed them to my cheeks, motor-boating those puppies, which made her laugh. "None of that."

She locked her mouth and threw away the key.

I grinned, bringing them together to lick both her nipples.

She sighed, melting back and weaving her fingers into my hair while my hips moved—picking up the pace, setting a steady rhythm.

When her legs wrapped around my waist, I grabbed onto her ass to dig even deeper. But I was lost—feeling that fire in my gut; meanwhile, I wanted to stop—eat that pussy—so I could keep going, gain my bearings. That wasn't going to happen, though. She just felt too good—her softness, her wetness, her tightness—just fucking her.

I let go, seeing stars as I came. "Shit." I rested my forehead to her chest.

"Wow."

"Yeah." I rolled off of her, my eyes wide as I stared at the ceiling.

"Cullen?"

"Huh?" I panted.

"You didn't break up with your girlfriend, did you?"

I was going to lie, but then . . . "It's complicated."

"It's okay. I don't really care." She swung her leg over me to leave the bed, gather her clothes.

"Where you going?" I asked.

"My room." She pulled her panties up.

"I'm not done yet." I reached for her hand.

"I am...Sorry. This was nice, though."

"O-kay..." I nodded, pulling the condom off my dick. "How'd you know about that other shit?"

She smirked, clasping her bra before turning it. "You wouldn't kiss me."

I snorted. "I kissed you."

"Yeah…when we were by the door. Look, it's fine. Thank you." She spluttered, shimmying into her jeans. "I had an itch, you scratched it." She winked. "I appreciate it, and we'll both be waking up with amnesia soon..." Ever the logical thinker.

"Right." I pulled my boxers back on, hoping she didn't feel guilty about my lie. I didn't, and I'd make sense of that at another time.

She didn't even bother with her shirt. Jordan pulled her coat on and zipped it. "I'll see you in the morning." She unlocked the door.

I waved from my bed, smirking, as I'd never met a female quite like her before. She needed nothing from me, didn't want anything besides an orgasm, and that was pretty fucking cool.

"You want this?" She held up the scarf.

"Just throw it in."

Jordan tossed it onto Ethan's bed. "Goodnight."

"'Night." When the door closed, I pulled my comforter over myself and closed my eyes—still grinning like some asshole.

The beast was still in his cage, smiling in his sleep.

I must have fallen into a deep sleep right away. Ethan never disturbed me when he came home, whenever that was, but he shook me awake at 4:30 a.m. My eyes were already looking at the clock as he nudged me.

"Wake up. Your alarm didn't go off."

I sucked the drool back into my mouth, sitting up.

Ethan was ready to leave. "When I got back from showering and you were still sleeping . . . get a move on, bro." He sat on his bed to place his sneakers on.

I shot out of bed, grabbing my jeans from last night. "What time did you get in?"

"I don't remember." His eyes widened. "I'm fucked today. Ironically, though, with no sleep . . . I'm more on point, which makes no fucking sense."

"I slept with Jordan last night." I pulled a t-shirt on, images from hours before coming back to me, and I smiled. "Crazy shit, right?"

He stared at me. "You . . . You cheated on Amelia? A total fucking knockout? You slept with that chick?" He scrunched his nose.

I shrugged. "You don't think she's hot?" I pushed my hair back, stepping into my shoes.

"She's cute, I guess . . . But Amelia is...well, she's a ten. Jordan's like a six, a seven at best? You basically went out for hamburger when you have prime rib at home. That makes no sense."

"I like hamburgers." I chuckled to myself, grabbing for my toothbrush. "This is what college is like? You take a chick back to your room, and sex is just a given?"

"Um..." Ethan shook his head. "Typically. Not everyone is as lucky as me." He grinned, leaning back on his elbows.

"You're a fucking nerd." I rolled my eyes. "I can count how many times you've used the scarf on one hand."

"Well, look, as long as you're happy. You seem miserable lately. This is the first time I'm seeing you smile."

I nodded, pursing my lips. "How am I supposed to just go through the day? What am I supposed to say to her?"

"And that's why you don't shit where you eat." He pointed. "You don't say anything. You don't bring it up at all. You say hello, go on like it never happened. Now go brush your teeth."

I laughed on my way down the hall.

Cleaning up was a quick and simple task this morning; taking care of my choppers and splashing water on my face would have to do. Before I put my coat on, I reapplied some deodorant. I was decently put together after pushing my hair back.

As Ethan and I walked out of our building, I smoked a cigarette and checked my phone. I had countless missed calls, texts, and voice mails from Amelia. Instead of listening to them, I decided to call her while Ethan went to grab us some coffees from Starbucks. When she didn't pick up, I gathered she was sleeping and I didn't bother to leave a message.

But I had another call to make.

"Yo, what's wrong?" I woke Sonny up. "Fuck. What time is it?"

"Um...likely close to five," I said.

"What's up, Dame? You cool?"

I nodded, smiling widely. "I . . ."

Even if I thought last night was a good thing, Sonny might not. He might possibly think me more a horrible person.

"Hey." His tone was softer. "You okay?"

I cleared my throat. "I had a...one-night-stand-type-thing last night."

"What?" Now he sounded confused.

"I hooked up with someone." There was a time when he'd be proud of me for something like this, which was why I wanted to tell him so badly. "It didn't mean anything."

"It didn't?"

"No," I said. "We're friends. She works with me."

"What about . . . is that over?" he asked.

"Pretty much. All that's left is to have that long-ass talk." Ethan handed me my coffee, and we started to walk again—battle the cold winds. "I know it makes me a douchebag, but I wanted to tell you."

"Good." Sonny chuckled. "I'm glad you called, bro."

"Me too...me too."

"And you're not a douchebag . . . well, not for that." He laughed out loud. "Sorry. Go back to sleep," he whispered.

"Who's that?" I heard Maggie.

"Dame," Sonny informed her. "You have to live." He was talking to me again. "All you've done is go to school and dive into these relationships . . . that's what causes you to act out. Look, that's the conclusion I drew. I partied, I fucking lived, which is why slowing down now...I'm content, so fucking happy with it. You? All you've been doing is caging the beast."

That caught my attention as Ethan walked into the hospital ahead of me. "The beast, huh?"

"Metaphorically."

"You know what a metaphor is?" I asked.

"Fuck you." That was when I knew we'd be just fine—Sonny and me.

I couldn't help myself. He's talking about the beast, living it up, and my thoughts go to his very young bride. But there was no way I could bring her up into conversation. Maybe another time. We were speaking about me right now, and he'd accuse me of deflecting if I changed the subject, which is usually the case.

"You gonna be there for Christmas?"

"Christmas Eve," I said. "Christmas day I have to work."

"Awesome. I'll see you then."

I bit my lip, wanting to say something, but I wasn't sure . . . There aren't many moments in life when I actually want or feel the need to admit this to Sonny—

"I love you, Dame," he said it first . . . because my brother will always be the bigger man, the better man.

"I love you, too," I whispered.

When the call ended, I filed everything away for later, promising not to think about anything besides patients for the next twenty-four hours. Today was a call day.

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts.**_

_**Bella is up next**_

_**v**_

_**v**_

_**v**_


	32. In Between

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**Hey! I'd like to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving! Hope you all eat to your heart's desire, enjoy your time with your families! And to those of you who do not celebrate, have a wonderful weekend filled with fun-fuckery and wicked times! Don't do anything I wouldn't do (shakes finger) This is actually the biggest party weekend of the year - here in the states. So, whether you gobble up mad turkey, go see a movie, trample people to get to stores - on Black Friday - or party hearty, just make sure you have a great time! And be safe! Yeah, I wish all of you who decide to deep fry your turkeys a safe holiday!**

**Me? Eh, I'm working - on call - so M and I will likely have a quiet time at home, and eat chicken. LOL. Neither of us care for turkey . . .**

**And I'd just like to say how thankful I am for all of you - the readers. This sure as hell has been a wild time, bringing you all the Storm Series! You all encourage and inspire me daily, all the freaking time, and that's what I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving, having all this support world wide :-)**

**Enjoy!**

**And . . . THANK YOU! **

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Thirty-Two: In Between**

**BELLA POV**

"Bella," Edward whispered. "You up?"

I stiffened briefly, waking and managing to keep my breathing even. Oddly enough, I didn't even remember going to sleep last night. It was morning, though—I could just feel it.

"Yo…" He nudged me, and I moaned as I turned my head—not wanting to get out of bed.

When I felt the mattress dip beside me, I didn't move. Then I caught a breeze while Edward peeled my panties away.

Was I still wearing that dress from last night?

Tired and yet awake, I wondered if I was still tipsy; meanwhile, I didn't want to open my eyes.

"Bella?" Edward nuzzled his nose to my cheek, easing between my legs.

And I know . . . that if I pretend to sleep through it, he'll finish that much faster, or he'll go to his side and knock back out.

"Stop frontin'…I know you're up." He entered me only to pause as I tried to keep the façade going. "You moaned. I heard you." Edward picked up a rhythm, wrapping my legs around his hips.

"Shut up." I cleared my throat, a grin developing while I faced him. "Morning."

"Yeah." He snuck his hands down to hold my ass, get in there good, and my eyes widened.

_He was getting in there good . . . _

"Fuck." I placed my arms around his neck, holding him close. "What time is it?" Since last night was New Year's Eve, I'd planned to sleep all day. There's shit to do later, but not before three p.m.

"I dunno . . ." He leaned away to push my legs back.

"Just…" I felt badly not wanting anything fancy as I grimaced and pulled him closer.

"Fine." He grumbled, huffing out a breath and going faster.

I had to pee, although this was awesome. Sex with my husband is always amazing, but . . .

"Hurry up."

Edward furrowed his brow. "I would if it didn't feel like the Sahara." He spit in his hand.

Before he brought it down, I punched his chest.

"The fuck was that for?" he asked, rubbing out his pain, which is what he _will_ be doing . . .

Coming at me before coffee is a signature Edward move. But after having drinks with the girls last night, it brought something back—reminded me of something Maggie said.

_You get that girl liquored up, and it's "Santino this" and "Santino that" . . . _

Apparently, my son has been spoiled lazy, and so has Edward. They think they own someone and then . . . They pass Go, Marvin Gardens, and the Community Chest, thinking they own the whole board already.

Basically, they forget all about foreplay. Most times, my husband and I can be beasts and it just doesn't matter. This morning, however, the small thought invaded my brain and stayed there for a beat too long.

He could have woken me up by going down on me, right? That's much more pleasant.

"Did'ju fall back to sleep?" He lightly hit my cheek.

I smacked his chest.

"Oww. What?" he shouted, grabbing my hips to go deeper.

"Nothing." I folded my arms across my tits, realizing I still wore that push-up bra.

"You said…last night…we were gonna fuck. Then you passed out." He groaned, working himself up again. "Couldn't get it out my head."

I didn't roll my eyes; I moaned for dramatic effect and to rush him along. Edward was really into it, though, fucking the daylights outta me. "Oh, yeah!"

His hands came up to mess my hair, hold my face, and the rapid movement jostled and startled me. "I love you." He growled out, burying his face into my neck. "Fuck, baby."

"Shit . . . I love you, too." My eyes widened, rocking back and staring up at the ceiling as a small smile crept up to my lips. "I love you." My tone was hushed this time, meaning that shit a lot more.

Edward didn't answer me with words. He kissed down my neck to pull my dress and bra away.

"Easy." I scolded lightly since I love this bra, and Hurricane Edward destroys anything in his path. "I'll just—" My eyes did roll; Edward clamped down on my nipple, making me cry out.

"Fuck." He went faster, going deeper—the deepest—and then he stilled.

. . . And _I_ was just beginning to get into it.

Alas, I knew he wasn't going to last that long. Early morning romps never usually do, especially since our bodies are trained in the AM to rush, having had to get kids off to school for dozens of years.

"Whew…" He rolled over, breathing heavily. "Morning, baby." He squeezed my thigh.

I blinked, pushing my dress down. "What time is it?"

"Oh . . . it's a quarter after eleven."

"Wow." I thought it was like seven, judging by how tired I was. "What's everyone doing?"

"No clue." Edward kissed my palm. "Dame said he was going back to the hospital early. Kylie and Dad are probably . . . I have no idea, but I bet they're together."

I snickered, a genuine smile forming.

Ed Sr. didn't tell us until he got off the plane that he'd sold his apartment in Midtown. He arrived in New York, expecting to stay with us. It was Edward's genius idea to lie to our daughter . . . to keep some distance between her and Gio while he's home for the winter break.

I didn't think it would work, but it is . . .

Edward—my rotten husband—told Kylie that her grandfather now suffers from dementia.

Ed Sr. is just as wacky and outspoken as he's always been. As per Edward, his father ran out of steam around the same time Marcus died. It's hard to believe that my father-in-law used to be . . . like Edward and Carlisle once upon a time. You'd never know it by being around him these days.

Kylie has nothing going on besides Gio and the tanning salon, so now her eyes are open. She believes her father and has been keeping her eye on Pop-Pop. She's trying to prove just how responsible she is. Kylie makes sure he takes his vitamins, his medicine, and that he's sticking to a diet low in cholesterol.

My husband added that diet shit just to drive Ed nuts. He's old, but his ticker is still good, no cholesterol problems.

And all of that cuts deeply into the quality time Kylie spends with Gio.

But, regardless of being married, Maggie and Kylie are still very close. Sonny, despite the holidays, has had a full schedule. So, combined, they make up this mismatched, weirdo chain-gang as they've all helped—in one way or another—to move Sonny and Maggie into their new house: Ed Sr., Kylie, Maggie, and Gio, while Vito and Gino take turns bringing them places.

My husband truly is a genius. We don't have to worry about any of them. Grandpa fits right in, and he can legally buy them liquor.

Aro still feels like he owes our son something, so he's been helping them out as well. We all are, actually. With our family being huge, they didn't have to hire anyone to move from the apartment that's just five blocks away.

As of now, they're all moved in around the corner . . .

And we managed to fit that into celebrating Christmas, having various family dinners, attending Caius's memorial services, and getting sloppily drunk for New Year's . . .

I personally had a lot of time freed up once Elena and I stopped preparing for this huge wedding.

Yeah, Damion put the brakes on that since he doesn't know what he wants. They're barely speaking, yet they're attending couples' counseling.

My husband and I laughed when they first told us. We thought it was a joke. With as many relationships as we'd seen—had been privy to—people either make it as a couple or they don't.

I can't make heads or tails of either one of them. While Damion has taken to talking to his father, being very open and honest, he hasn't said a peep to me, and Edward says he's fine. Damion is doing well—first with the pregnancy, then with the miscarriage, which we weren't even sure about . . . Anyway, Damion is just very confused as am I.

I mean, what the fuck? You know?

I stopped crying about it—my son and his woes—in secret or in Edward's arms. Now, I realize that shit just isn't as serious as I once thought.

After all this time, I had to roll with the punches.

Plus, I still harbor immense rage in regards to Lauren and what she did. That's something I'll _never_ get over, although I take some solace in the fact that she's dead.

Only, I wish I could have stomped on her head.

"What's wrong?"

"What?" I asked.

"You're grinding your teeth," Edward sighed, grasping my hand.

"I'm cold." I pulled the blanket over us. "Do you have a hangover?"

He pursed his lips. "Nope . . . I'm tired but okay."

"Same," I whispered, thankful I drank a lot of water last night. "What time did we leave Carlisle's?"

"At like three?" He snuggled up to my side.

"You wanna make coffee while I shower?" I smiled, kissing his cheek. "Please?"

He groaned, holding me tighter. "I thought we'd stay in bed…all day and all night."

"I have plans with Maggie later . . . and then we're all supposed to go there for their unofficial housewarming party."

Edward sucked his teeth. "Sonny will order a few pizzas, and we'll give 'em cash?"

"Basically." I bought them a china set, but my husband doesn't know that. Edward can also give them money. If he knows I got them something already, he won't give up any cash. And I'm just so excited for them, Sonny and Maggie, I want them to have everything they need and more. It's not like the Sullivans have given them anything, and I'm more than happy to make up for that.

"How much? Baby, Sonny's well off. He doesn't need _my_ money. And that's something I'm very proud of." He nodded.

"Just give them a few grand—"

"We _bought_ them that house," he laughed.

"It's the gesture. Don't be cheap and don't front. You got them the house because you and Luke had that shit going, who'd give how much to Dame and Amelia. Otherwise..."

"Regardless, that house was four million dollars, but I'm cheap...?" He bitched.

"Like that hurt your pockets?" I may not know my husband's official net worth—'cause most, if not all, is in cash—but I _know_ . . . and I also know we don't spend nearly as much dough as we can. Well, we have no proof of where his income stems from, and so we can't be flashy and shit, cash transactions and all that are a must—the usual. I actually love the way things are. I wouldn't change a thing, and I want for nothing more than we already have.

"I guess we can't show up with nothin', though...Not that I give a fuck, but that'd be bad manners." He tickled my side and gasped. "We could bring the soda and the paper plates to go with the pizza?"

I laughed, getting into my Edward nook, nuzzling my nose into his neck. "Maggie needs to food shop, and so do I...We're meeting at four." Our kitchen was bare with all the extra people around; we hardly had anything. "Fuck. I hope there's coffee."

"There should be," he whispered, and it was like we were both stuck—drowsy, neither one of us wanting to leave the bed. "You wanna smoke?"

"No…We've been smoking a lot lately." Even last night. Along with the booze—Edward, Carlisle, Aro, Lisa, Alex, Sonny, Anthony, and I—we had a three blunt siph, weed circle, going in their backyard, a small puff-puff-pass party. Kylie and Li'l Ed kept poking their heads out the sliding door, and then we'd hide it behind our backs. We said we were having a family meeting. No kiddos allowed.

"Like you give a fuck." He snorted. "The kids are adults…no one cares. What's the harm?"

"Before coffee, though?" I sat up, getting a total head rush. "Fuck." I palmed my eyes.

Edward laughed. "I'll roll, you start the shower."

"I'll roll . . . you get too much spit on the paper." I winked.

Edward left the bed to get his stash out of his chest of drawers. "We'll finish the bag, and then…"

I nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"I knew you were going to say that." He plopped the bag, the rolling paper, and a CD case onto the bed.

I got busy rolling while Edward took a piss. He continued to talk to me, but I could barely hear him. Then I heard the shower running and him turn on the fan.

My legs shook as I did the pee-pee dance, tiptoeing toward the bathroom. "Here." I handed it to him before I ran to the toilet. "Oh, man." My eyes started tearing.

"Guess you had to go." He turned off the shower. It was misty enough.

When I was finished going to the bathroom, I sat under the open window, taking the joint from Edward. "This is kinda fun."

Edward smiled. "It's a party week—the holidays." He placed the lighter in front of me.

I inhaled deeply, trying to keep it in and not cough my brains out. This shit was so good, fucking sticky, and it practically stuck to the wall. "Take it." I exhaled, passing it to Edward, and I was done.

All I wanted was to get my head right, relax—it would help me to chill on this semi-lazy day. Sometimes I get antsy, even if I'm exhausted. Especially after partying so hard last night. Weed helps the recovery.

After we finished smoking, we just sat there—neither one of us saying a word. It was peaceful, and my mind wandered. I thought of the conversations I'd had last night. "You need to talk to Sonny."

"About what?" he asked.

"About…not being lazy in the sack, that he can't just…you know?"

"What?" Edward thought that was funny. "I'm not saying shit to him. What happens between him and his wife, that's on them."

"But you always talk to Sonny about sex."

"We're men. We don't _talk_ about sex—that's women shit. He used to brag; I'd listen. Since they got hitched, Sonny hasn't said a peep. Baggin' your old lady is different than scoring with some ho. You don't talk about it. It's disrespectful." Edward pulled on a cigarette and then held it out to me.

I declined.

"He wants to have a baby, though. Sonny told me." He faced me. "That's—he's got it in his head. And he's scared to talk to Maggie about it."

I laughed. "She's gotta be the easiest person in the world to talk to."

"Well, the worst she can say is no . . . He doesn't want her to hate him." He squeezed my thigh. "She's so young . . . She'll watch Kylie and Gio go to college, party and hang out, go on vacations, while she's stuck at home with an infant . . . Sound familiar?"

I shrugged. "I never regretted trying for Sonny, and then having him. I wanted a baby. She has to want one in order to not regret her decision." I nodded. "She's so young, though—younger than we were." I frowned. "Getting married is one thing. 'Cause they can grow together." I widened my arms. "Grow as people and share their love."

"I told Sonny that. He feels guilty—having that want. It's not like...they're jobless teens still living at home. Maggie's young...I wouldn't want that for Kylie, like if Maggie were my daughter." He held his chest. "But Sonny would do right, wouldn't saddle her with shit. He'd be right there, hire a nanny, a housekeeper. She could still go to school. He'd do the right thing. So, me, I'm torn...doesn't matter how I feel, though." I couldn't believe he spoke that much about the subject. And he made some very valid points, too. "Again, that's between them."

"Yeah, but you need to tell your son that he'll flunk out of marriage if he doesn't pass the oral." I smiled.

"Word," Edward agreed. "You tryin'a tell me somethin', too? 'Cause I eat your pussy right. Trust. I know."

I giggled. "Yeah, I remember Thanksgiving fondly."

"It hasn't been that long."

"It has."

"No."

"Yes," I said.

"Wow…" He put the cigarette out in the ashtray. "Sounds like I owe you some tongue." He kissed my cheek.

I grinned, nestling into his side. "Don't worry about it. I can't remember the last time I sucked your dick."

"Last week...Wednesday."

"Really?" Now I couldn't believe that. I thought it was longer. "Cool."

"Sonny and Maggie are happy. As much as they do fuck, my God," Edward laughed. "He may not talk about it, but the boy's always a mess, always looks like he just got done hittin' it. Remember when we first got married? All the fucking. That was before we decided to get you pregnant, too." He poked my side. "You can't even get the kid on the phone. He _was_ hardly working. Well, I put a stop to that shit. The honeymoon's over. He owes me, so . . . that's why he's so crazy busy now."

"Owes you what? And, yes. He has been busy these past two weeks. That's probably why Maggie was saying that." I hit my forehead. "He hasn't been around, so she feels a loss, like he's losing interest." I frowned, remembering exactly what that was like.

Especially, I can recall how miserable I was because I didn't know what Edward was doing. I didn't know anything about his work, just that he wasn't around. Hell, even now, some weeks Edward is busier than others, and I rarely see him. These days, I understand since I know what it's like, what it's like to be married to a connected guy—keeping the weird and ungodly hours, the sudden disappearing acts, the secrets.

"Losing interest." He spat. "That's bullshit. We get busy; he's got shit to do."

"What does he owe you?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it," he said.

"Keeping secrets from me again?" I raised a brow. "'Cause that _always_ works out so well for you."

"Gimme two months…When shit quiets down, I'll tell you—tell you everything and anything you wanna know." He bit my nose. "Hmm. Love that thing." He bit it again. "Tasty."

I giggled. "Okay."

"You're really getting close to Maggie, huh?"

I smiled. "Kylie and Maggie are my homegirls."

"You're so fucking cute." He crashed his lips to mine, landing a loud smooch on me. "I only ask because Sonny digs the shit you tell her. He appreciates it."

"And why couldn't Sonny tell me that himself?"

"He's busy," Edward sighed. "He's running two crews, going between the Twilight club and Eclipse. All of which is why . . . I have my father chillin' with Kylie, too. Having Kylie and Maggie together, it helps Sonny out. No matter what he owes me, I don't want him going through the same problems we had in the beginning—you getting bored and getting on my ass. It's inevitable, though. I foresee problems in their immediate future, no matter what you tell her. They'll get through it like we did, I think."

I furrowed my brow. "He's taking care of Caius's business?"

He nodded solemnly.

"He…Caius?" My heart sank, although I didn't give a fuck about Caius. "You said—"

"This is exactly why I didn't want to discuss it—you wearing this face if the Feds asked you something." He palmed my cheeks.

I waved away from myself. "It's out of my head." It didn't matter what I said, I still felt uneasy about that. "Maggie's fine, Sonny's fine—they're all fine. Damion was really quiet last night."

"Can you blame him? We were at Carlisle's. It was commendable, Dame even showing up. You know?"

I nodded. "I know. Wish he stayed longer, though. All he did was come back and sleep, didn't he?"

Edward sighed. "He's doing what's good for him. He's focused on school, and there's this chick—" He groaned, covering his face.

"What chick?" I asked.

"Can we rewind to five minutes ago? Back to before I said that?" Edward grinned, being all toothy and cute.

"No." I deadpanned.

He relit the joint and handed it to me after taking a long hit—stalling.

I grumbled under my breath, taking a few pulls. "You don't need to get me high. As long as he's happy . . ." There wasn't a bone in my body that wanted Damion to marry Amelia anymore. With them getting together, she changed so much I don't recognize her. She wasn't the person I thought she was, which could have been some ploy. "I want Damion happy. Maybe we didn't _push_ him toward Amelia—"

"Come on. Be real. We fucking _shoved_ him in her direction—the offhanded comments, offering them money. I'm just as guilty—if not the culprit. He was upset about Julie, vulnerable, going through some shit, and the last thing he needed was to dive head first into shit with Amelia." He shook his head. "Plus that other shit we didn't know at the time. We're to blame, too . . . But I really saw us in them. Does that make sense? I thought they could make it. Dammit." He ranted.

"I know," I agreed. "They were so in love, or seemed to be…He met someone else?"

"Yeah." Edward rasped. "He called it a one-night stand, but…" he laughed. "He keeps talking about it. I don't know if he's proud, or what. He said he's known that chick for months—Jordan."

"Jordan." I grinned. "She's a nice girl."

"You know her?" he sounded surprised.

"I met her once," I said. "I was in the neighborhood last month. Damion was on call, and I brought him dinner from La Bella Italia. He introduced me as Bella, so . . . he wasn't getting into 'That's my mom' or whatever. We talked while they shared the ziti I brought. They seemed close, but like working relationship, see each other every day close. I wouldn't think her his type, but I remember thinking them sharing food was adorable...innocent."

"She a knockout?"

I nodded. "She's attractive—pretty."

"The kid had stars in his eyes . . . But is this the only way to get him out of a funk? A series of rebounds?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "Overall, he seems better, happier, although Amelia has him confused. I won't lie and say I approve of him cheating…"

"Of course, you can't. But Dame needs to figure shit out on his own. At least with this Jordan he'll focus more on school."

"True. They could be each other's anchors if need be—if there's love there."

"I wouldn't go that far. I think Dame's just testing the waters." He chuckled.

"You're proud of him."

He shrugged. "I don't condone cheating, but fuck it. Yeah, I'm happy Dame's healing himself, doing what makes himself happy in a positive way."

"How is cheating positive?" I laughed.

"It made him happy."

I shut my mouth as I thought about that.

"Yo!"

I jumped, nearly out of my skin when I heard Ed Sr. at the door.

"What?" Edward shouted back.

"Open up."

"No!" Edward looked to me, and I smiled.

"I can smell it," Ed Sr. said.

I pulled my unkempt dress down, trying to cover my knees, as Edward opened the door. "Here…take the rest. Go in the backyard."

"What am I? A dog?" My father-in-law entered to sit on the toilet. "Your daughter's driving me nuts."

Edward laughed, plopping down next to me again. "Cover yourself." He placed a towel on my legs.

I rolled my eyes.

Ed Sr. stared down at us. "This reefer is great." He pulled from the roach. "You got tweezers?"

I snorted, turning to rest my head on Edward's shoulder. This was weird—odd. It wasn't because of the weed. It was just…all three of us just chillin' in a bathroom.

"Mom?" Kylie knocked.

"Fuck," I whispered, my heart stalling for a minute. "Yeah, baby?" I wondered if I sounded normal, or high out of my skull, and I was likely in between.

"I can't find Grandpa."

Ed Sr. started doing hand signals, trying to silently indicate that he wasn't in here.

"Maybe he wandered off." Edward almost lost his shit, bending over in hysterics.

"Daddy…? Oh, are you guys . . .? Um."

Now I was laughing since she assumed we were fucking.

"So, you can't find your grandfather." Edward kept talking, trying not to laugh. "You're an adult. How would you handle it?"

I held my stomach and tried not to drool on myself. "Stop." I pushed my husband.

"Um…I should call Vito, and then we can drive around the neighborhood? I saw on this show…Grandpa might not remember where we live."

"Why wouldn't I?" Ed Sr. whispered.

"What?" Kylie asked.

"Good idea, baby. We'll be out in a minute." Edward kissed my cheek.

When we heard Kylie close our bedroom door, all three of us busted out laughing. "Why would you do that to her?" I asked.

Edward shrugged. "She's not calling Vito. She'll call Maggie and Gio first…so they can help. It'll keep them busy, out of trouble."

"Why is she following me?" Ed asked, staring down to us. "Don't get me wrong. I love my Kylie, but hanging out with these kids . . . It's not my thing. They're up my ass. And you'll be proud to know that they're fucking goody-goodies—no fun at all—nothing like you and your brother as kids. I haven't even been to Eclipse yet since I've been back…your daughter tries to tuck me in at nine p.m. for fuck's sake!" Ed Sr. ranted, standing to drop the roach into the toilet.

"She cares about you," Edward said.

My father-in-law stared down at me. "You look horrible."

"Whoa…" Edward hugged me into his side, but I found that comment funny. "What kind of shit is that to say?"

"She needs rest."

"Go…sneak out before I sic Kylie on you." Edward pointed to the door.

My father-in-law smiled down to us. "I think I'll go stay with Carlisle. At least he appreciates his father—"

"Fuck that . . . but do what you want." My husband nodded.

Ed Sr. looked to me, like I'd rebut what he'd said.

"I'm sure the twins will love to have Pop-Pop around." I grinned, 'cause Carlisle's place is a mad house on the reg.

"Shit." He dropped onto the closed lid of the toilet. "Whatever." He stood up, albeit slowly, and then left the bathroom.

When he was gone, I turned to my husband. "I look horrible?"

He wiped under my eyes with his thumbs. "You still have makeup all over." His thumbs were black.

"Ugh!" It came out squeaky as I scrambled to my feet. Looking into the mirror, I saw my sad reflection. It straightened my head, cleared it of the fog for a brief moment. I had mascara all over my eyes. I resembled a raccoon, and my hair was messy and knotted. "You fucked me while I looked like this?" I pointed to my face.

My husband was too busy playing with the bathmat.

"Edward!" I stomped my foot.

"What? You're beautiful. Shut the fuck up."

I kicked at him. "You shut up."

He did; he didn't say another word.

"Edward…?" I asked.

He shook his head. "What'd you say?"

"Nothing." I slumped my shoulders. "Go make coffee. I'm showering." I stared in the mirror again, and then took a rag to wipe my eyes.

Turning for the shower, Edward looked way too comfortable on the floor...just sitting there. "We've turned into stoners. I don't even recognize you anymore."

"What?" He blinked but then waved a hand. "I'm still me."

I shook my head, because he seriously wasn't. "You're not as aggressive. You're…" I grabbed our stash and threw it into the toilet. "Now we're done. No more."

"What'd you do that for? It's pot. It's legal in how many fucking states? It's not coke or fucking dope. What the hell? You act like we're skeeve junkies." He stared into the bowl, watching it float.

I shrugged. "I'm just so . . ."

"Look," Edward got to his feet to palm my cheeks, "you're stressed. And as much as you tell yourself you're not, you are. I know that helps you." He gestured to the soaked pot. "So, I do it with you . . . It's better than you intruding on everyone, being nosy, and trying to fix shit that . . . Well, I mean, the shit you're worried about is out of our hands." He nodded. "All you can do is hope for the best."

"You're right." I grumbled, hating that he was.

"Blow off Maggie, and we'll relax. All day, just you, me, and we'll watch movies. You know I'm trying to stay low-key." It was because of Caius. The Feds are sniffing around that shit. Yet, his body was released, and his daughter was able to bury him. No one saw anything, and they had no evidence. But we both knew it was only a matter of time until Edward was called in for questioning.

And Sonny was involved somehow . . .

"Sonny's going to be okay? No one saw anything. They have no evidence—"

"Shhhh." He kissed me softly. "I'd cop to it before they did anything to Sonny."

"Double-edged sword." Tears pricked my eyes.

"We'll be okay. I promise."

"Okay. I'm glad." I flushed the toilet. "What if they search the house?"

"I haven't heard anything."

"Oh…" I lifted my hair, turning my back to him. "Unzip me."

Edward groaned, pulling me against his chest. "Bella, I fucking love you. So much, baby. You're gorgeous, beautiful, you have the best heart of any person I've ever known. I'm so happy we met...'cause without you I'd have nothing. Fuck money. I don't care about nothing, except you, the kids. But you, baby..." He hummed, kissing down my neck. "I love you so much that—"

I turned in his arms. "Is something wrong? They know something. Why are you saying these things?" I was paranoid as fuck, more so because of the weed.

"No…I'm just saying." He turned me roughly to undo my zipper. "There…enjoy your shower."

"I love you, too." I hoped the warm water would calm my nerves.

He blew me a kiss. "Yeah, I know." He left the bathroom.

**/=/=/=/=/**

**Damion**

**/=/=/=/=/**

**A**fter rounds, I worked in the emergency room alongside Jordan for a bit. We cared for this dude who more than likely had pneumonia. He had rales in both lungs, sounding junkie. We sent him for an x-ray, while Jordan pushed to have every blood test under the sun done.

We argued about that. One of the first things a resident ever told me was, "If you hear hoof beats, think horses not zebras", but then there's always that one that passes you by—you miss something simple, or something complicated because you thought it _was_ simple.

Other than that one dude, we treated colds, flus—ailments that neither needed a doctor or an emergency room. Then there were a few we called surgical consults for. At five p.m. our shift was over. I was fast to leave, but Jordan said she had a few more things to do.

I didn't bother to say goodbye and left, walking back to the dorms. After partying with my family last night—where I had a couple drinks—and then working a fourteen-hour shift, I was exhausted.

Overall, though, I was content—tired, but happy nonetheless. Things were coming to a close between Amelia and me, and I actually felt good about that. Counseling hasn't done us any good. We both talk—we both express ourselves and get our points across without it turning into a shouting match.

But the love . . .

That feeling I'd get whenever she was near, was gone.

I couldn't even fake it.

She was doing better, too, I think. Amelia's as clingy as she ever was, bending over backwards as she tries to please me. I asked her not to. I asked her to take a step back, and that's the only thing she can't seem to comprehend.

The whole thing was incredibly sad. We were hot and fucking heavy as hell, and now?

I shut my brain off as soon as I entered my room.

After making sure my alarm clock was set, just in case I slept right through 'til morning, I closed my eyes—welcoming sleep.

"Damion…" Amelia was here. "Wake up, baby." She kissed my cheek.

I turned over to groan. "What time is it?" And I definitely needed to get my key back.

"Ten after six."

I blinked, confused, as it seems I only fell out for twenty minutes. Meanwhile, that shit felt like fifteen hours. "Six in the morning?"

"No," she giggled, snuggling up to me. "It's still Thursday."

"Oh." I nodded, closing my eyes. "I'm beat. If you wanna sleep…" I grabbed my blanket.

"We have a seven o'clock appointment with Dr. Stein."

"It's New Year's Day."

"So?" she asked. "I knew things were slow for you, so I signed us up twice this week. He said he'd make time…to accommodate you. He's knows how grueling med school can be. He is a doctor."

"It's New Year's Day." I repeated myself.

"Doesn't matter. He's working with us. You know?" She squeezed my hand.

I scoffed. "To drive out to Jersey..."

"Then we have to come back. That get-together at your brother's new house is tonight. I can't wait to see it."

"I didn't plan on going," I said. "I've seen it, and I'm going—meeting Sonny for lunch tomorrow." I yawned.

"No, we should stick to our original plans. Remember? You're supposed to try and…take my feelings into consideration? And this is important to me."

"Going to Sonny's is important?" I asked. "You hate Maggie. It's hypocritical of you to sit there, smile, and—"

"No, counseling. Us mapping shit out and reconnecting."

"Right," I whispered, opening my eyes and facing her. She was as beautiful as she always is. Her scent was that delicious perfume. "Listen…I don't think it's helping us."

She frowned. "I think it has. I think if we keep seeing him…"

"No," I said.

"It can't be over. We have to keep trying." She started crying. "Damion, I love you."

"Please, don't." I cringed, stiffening. "You're just in denial. Can you honestly say you feel the same? The same as you did last month?" I sat up to wipe her tears away. "We tried. I fucked up, and you…"

Even with a PhD helping us with our problems, she's yet to open up about the pregnancy. That issue was never laid out on the table.

"We haven't had sex in…a while," I said, remembering that disastrous snowy afternoon in that hotel room. That was over a month ago.

"It's not like I haven't tried." She sniffled. "You—it's you." And I'm not an animal. The resentment I had kept me from having sex, making love to her. "Maybe you need therapy on your own, or medication. You know? If you can't get hard—"

"That's not the problem. My cock is fine." I rushed out. "We're not the same. Things have changed—we've both changed." And I didn't know how to sell this any more than I already had.

"_You_ changed a lot. You don't get angry, you don't smile, you don't...you can't even fuck me," Amelia sighed. "You're going through something, and I'll be here . . . patient until you get back to normal. We're so good together. We just need more time to actually_ be_ together. Maybe we should save this talk for Dr. Stein? Maybe he can help with...your problem." She stared at my crotch.

"No…and there's nothing wrong with my dick." I was exasperated. "Don't you think it's fucked that we need a counselor, when we've technically only been together...like five months?"

She wrung her hands together. "We moved fast, Damion. This whole time…it's felt as though we've been on this moving train—it never stops, and I don't want it to. Once we're married, things will slow down."

I groaned, stepping into my sneakers. "I need a smoke . . . and you're still not listening to a thing I say."

"My parents think it's a good thing—what we're doing. What does your mom say?"

I raised a brow, grabbing my jacket. "You haven't spoken to her yourself?"

She looked down. "Your mother's not exactly easy to talk to these days. _I'm_ supposed to hold the grudge against her." She snorted. "She betrayed _my_ trust, yet she says she can't trust me."

I shrugged, pursing my lips. "Until you come clean—tell the truth about your pregnancy, I have to have my mother's back on this."

"That's none of her business."

"Right…but in her eyes, you tried to trap her son." It felt good to say that. "I understand being desperate. I understand you trying to make your father happy—wanting to merge our families. What I don't understand . . . Baby, I know I was a dick." I sat next to her. "I was angry with you, and I needed time. Then somewhere between me being in the hospital, Thanksgiving—whatever—you got pregnant?" I asked. "There are a lot of holes in your story. You know? All I'm asking is for you to fill in the blanks." I wasn't even sure if my rambled words made any sense. "When I saw you again . . . all I could think about was us getting back to normal. Then you tell me you're knocked up. I'm sorry, but…your pregnancy, me thinking you were dishonest…and right after you betrayed my trust, telling my mother that shit, that's when I started having doubts, pulling away from you, and as soon as I pulled away, you became this lunatic. _Without_ the pregnancy, the one you worked so hard for, we'd still be planning a wedding."

"I know that now," she whispered. "If we spoke about it...Do you think we could move past it?"

"It's possible. I don't know." I groaned, frustrated. "Not knowing is eating at me, thinking you were dishonest fucking killed me. I see...saw it as betrayal since—up until that point—we were honest with no secrets. Then, for you to get pregnant after I specifically, after I expressed how I didn't want kids, especially not now..." I tried thinking, voicing my feelings, which was the advice the shrink had given me. "But then mistakes happen...I just don't think it was a mistake. You planned it. I feel in my heart that you planned it, banked on getting knocked up."

"It wasn't—" she cried.

"Talk to me," I whispered. "Whatever it is."

"It wasn't planned in the way you think. I was just never on the pill."

"What?" I leaned into her to hear her correctly. "I saw them…They were always in your makeup bag."

She shook her head. "Whenever I'd take them in front of you, I'd pop a placebo into my mouth," she sobbed. "I had them from when I was with my ex . . . being single so long, I stopped taking them. Then, when I met you . . . There was all this pressure from my dad. And I like, I fell in love with you—that first night. You taking charge, pointing that nine...the sex that followed. You stole my heart. But then I got scared . . . Halloween was when things changed. You lost interest, some interest. You became obsessed with your brother's wife. Maybe not obsessed, but...you spiraled out of control. Yet, even that version of you, that's closer to the man I fell in love with...than this version of you, who's...it's like you died in some way." She grasped my hand. "My feelings are real . . . I just—I'm sorry. My father said he'd give us three million—"

"For money and to please your father?" It should have felt like a low blow, but it didn't. Whenever or how she got pregnant wasn't truly an issue anymore. She miscarried. We haven't been together intimately since, and we had no more ties to each other.

"I'm sorry." She palmed her face. "But I wanted it—I wanted your baby. I wanted you so badly—for you to be mine." She threw herself at me. "I love you so much."

"Shhhh." I rubbed her back. "It's okay."

"It's not." She sucked in a shaky breath. "It's not okay."

I nodded, burying my nose into her hair.

"It was going to be simple. We'd be together, we'd have a baby . . . You know? I'd have you."

I leaned back to look into her eyes. "Amelia…"

"I know." She nodded. "We're—we're over."

"I'm sorry." I didn't want to fight or talk this out. All I hoped was that she'd understand.

"Can we keep in touch? We might, you know . . . Can we—can we be friends?"

"Of course," I lied. "We both fucked up."

"You didn't do anything."

"I did." I wiped under her nose with my thumb. "Is Pietro outside?"

"Yeah." She wrapped her arms around my neck again. "Think it over. Please. I still love you—I'll always want you. Please, please, please."

"You're better than that—to beg." Her pleas kind of broke my heart, but I knew we were doing the right thing.

"What if we continued with counseling?"

I shook my head. "We both know, Amelia. I don't know if I could ever trust you again. I'm sure you have doubts, too."

"I don't," she cried.

"We both need time to think, be by ourselves for a bit."

"You're right." She left my bed. "I have to leave, or else I'll beg, break down." Her face crumbled.

"Wait…are you going to be okay?"

She turned away, refusing to look at me. "I want to hate you."

"If it'll make you feel better . . ." I trailed off.

"I'm sure you hate me."

"I don't." I think I wasn't as shocked by her admission because I'd suspected something all along. Plus, while she was out of sight, after Thanksgiving and up until now, I'd been sorting things out in my head—coping, getting ready for the inevitable.

"Walk me out?"

"Of course." I felt like I could breathe again as I followed her into the hall.

The Band-Aid was pulled off. I finally got somewhere with Amelia, ending things. Deep down, I wasn't sure if I should have felt badly for her—her heartache—but I don't think I cared, not anymore.

Amelia had composed herself by the time we got outside. Walking down the steps, I was surprised to see Jordan. She was running toward the building, fumbling with the books and papers she had in her hands. She hadn't seen us yet when she dropped most of it onto the ground.

"Isn't that your friend? What's she doing here?" Amelia asked.

I shrugged, barely looking at Jordan. "She lives here—fifth floor."

"How do you know?"

I rolled my eyes. "I've seen her around, and we do work together . . . You okay?" I asked Jordan.

She had a beaming smile, gathering everything into her arms. "I diagnosed Mr. Smith, so Dr. Ralph said I could assist in the bronchoscopy. I gotta read up on it. They're doing it first thing in the morning." She ran right on past us into the building.

I chuckled, watching her go.

"What's funny?"

I shook my head. "She's nuts—that's all."

"Oh…" Amelia kept staring at the building. "You laughed."

"So...? It's funny when people drop shit?"

"I always thought Jordan was a guy. Why would you lie about that?"

"Because of this." I gestured to her. "And I never lied. You assumed. I'm not fighting, nor am I talking about this with you. She's a colleague. End of story."

She put her palms up. "You're right. We're—we're over." Her face fell, crumbled as she turned from me.

"Amelia…"

"Just…" She shrugged, tears falling down her cheeks. "Have a nice life."

I waved at a loss.

Amelia entered the car, and Pietro shot me a glare as he closed her door.

"Take care," I told him.

He ignored me, getting in and starting the car.

When they pulled away, I reentered the building. I should have gone back to sleep, or gone to get something to eat. Even if I was emotionally numb, I was still tired and hungry. But I didn't take care of any of my immediate needs, going up to the fifth floor instead.

Jordan's room was three doors away from the elevator, and her door was wide open. "Hey." I knocked twice.

She hardly tore her eyes away from the book she was reading. "What's up?"

"Nothing." I walked in and sat on her bed. "I did it . . . we broke up for real."

"That's nice." She wasn't paying attention to me.

I reached over and closed the book.

"What'd you do that for?" she asked.

My words were stuck, caught in my throat as I leaned toward her. She looked cute with her messy hair, and there was some ink—just a little—under her bottom lip.

"Cullen…" She turned her head.

"What?" I grasped her chin, turning her to face me. "Can we hang out tonight?"

"I don't know. I have reading to do."

"Bronchoscopies take like fifteen minutes at best," I said. "You're not going to see or do much."

"I know, but…" She blew out a breath, finally looking at me. She says I paralyze her with my eyes, and she always tries her best not to meet my gaze. "You guys broke up? Are you okay? You didn't tell her about what we did, right? 'Cause it meant nothing. There was no need to hurt her."

"I didn't. We had a lot of problems, none of them stemming from infidelity."

"Oh…" She opened the book.

For over two weeks now, since that night, nothing's really changed in Jordan and my relationship. That day, the morning after, we worked together like we'd always done. I've thought about her a lot, wanting to fuck her again, sneak away and go to a closet somewhere around the hospital. But I never voiced that or made a move. Because I was still technically in a relationship. Why I felt no remorse on Amelia's part is beyond me; however, I didn't think Jordan would take me seriously if I was still with someone else.

Now I was free . . .

Now I was horny as fuck.

There's nothing wrong with my cock.

"You can talk." She continued to read. "I'll listen."

I chuckled, content to just sit here. "Lean back."

"Oh, no. Massage, my ass," she giggled. "Go, get away."

I smiled, grabbing her foot. "Just relax. I'll be on my best behavior."

"Us having sex again won't mend your broken heart."

"It's not broken." I was honest. "Maybe I'm just horny."

"Ouch. You didn't get any goodbye sex?"

"Nope. Didn't want any." I squeezed her heel, making her sigh and fall back. "What'd you do? Did you go out last night?"

"No, I had reading to do. I was asleep before the ball dropped."

I nodded, wishing I'd done the same. "I was with my family…It was boring."

There was no way I could voice just how uncomfortable I was being at Carlisle's house. I mostly stayed with my parents, sipping my wine, and smiling while we'd all talk. It was nice . . . to an extent. I left when they all went outside to get high. It provided me with the perfect opportunity to sneak away. Li'l Ed, Maggie, Gio, and Kylie, who were drunk from sharing a bottle of champagne, knew what the "adults" were doing outside, thought it wasn't my thing. But playing board games with them didn't interest me either. Grandpa had fallen asleep on a recliner. I just wasn't in a festive mood, wanted sleep. Unlike my grandfather, I don't nod out like a heroin addict after a meal; I can't just sleep anywhere.

"When you're done, did you want to go out to dinner?"

"I'm sorry." She took her feet back. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because . . . I don't want to be your rebound, and I definitely don't want to be . . . Look, it just wouldn't be a good idea." She nodded, reaching up to pull her hair out of the clip.

I took it from her, combing her ponytail with my fingers. "I just want to be your friend." I pulled it back up, fixing it for her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

I touched her neck with my nose, inhaling her sweet scent. "You're welcome." I kissed that spot, hugging her close to me as my lips moved closer to her mouth.

Jordan had her eyes closed. "Don't do this. I don't have time to-to—I can't. We can't."

I nodded, placing my lips to hers, my stomach a butterfly-filled mess. To my surprise, she deepened the kiss to moan into my mouth. Before long, she'd straddled my lap, pushing me back.

"Fuck, yeah." Overexcited, I grasped the hem of her scrub top, bringing it up and over her head.

"Ugh." She groaned, covering her face. "We can't do this." She hopped off of me, grabbing her shirt. "You should go."

I was still breathing heavily, leaning up on my elbows, and I didn't know what to say. "Now _you're_ breaking my heart." I smirked.

She tossed a roll of Scotch Tape at me. "That'll help keep it together."

"Right," I laughed, rising from the bed. "Well, I'll be in my room. If you wanna come down and chill . . . you're welcome to."

She grinned, taking my hand. "You're a good guy, Cullen. It has nothing to do with that. It'd only be a matter of time before . . . You know, that line got crossed, and I don't have time to be with someone, or get my own heart broken."

"I understand," I said. "Self-preservation and all that."

She nodded, a frown marring her usually jovial face.

"My offer still stands. You get bored, come get me, and we'll go get some food...just friends," I said. "We both gotta eat, right?" I finally caught her gaze with my own. "Just come hang out with me." I tried to see if I could smudge that ink off her chin.

She cleared her throat, stepping back and looking away. "Um. What?"

"Dinner."

She nodded. "That's sounds awesome . . . How 'bout eight o'clock? Just let me finish this chapter." She looked to her book.

"Knock hard," I laughed. "I'll be crashing for that hour."

She lifted a hand, keeping it raised as I left her room.

Going down to my own room, I felt kind of stupid. Did I want to continue or for anything to develop between Jordan and me? I wasn't sure. But I was truthful . . . I was horny, and since our dynamic was fine after the last time . . .

Face down on my bed, I managed to fall right back to sleep. This time, I woke up with a slight headache as Jordan knocked. It was actually close to 9:30. She was late.

"Hey." I yawned, going back to bed after letting her in.

She looked good, cleaned up and dressed in those tight, painted-on jeans. Her hair was still up, but she wore makeup. "How was your nap?"

"Good." I yawned again, couldn't help it.

Jordan sat opposite me, on Ethan's bed. "I'm exhausted. Did you want to just order a pizza?"

"You got dressed up just for us to order pizza?" I laughed, leaning up to look at her. "Lemme clean up, take you out. I know a good place. It's classy, an Italian joint."

"Pizza's fine. I did this for you." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "I'm a mess every day, and…" She was unsure; I could tell.

"You have a lot of natural beauty . . . You don't need to paint your face, or..." I stopped myself from commenting on those jeans. I loved seeing her in them.

"Thank you." She smiled.

"Come here." I extended my hand.

She took it, and I pulled her into bed with me. Jordan laughed, easing down and getting comfortable. "Do friends snuggle?"

"Sometimes," I sighed. "Ten minutes, and then we'll get food."

"Okay." She pulled the blanket up over us both before coming back down into my arms. "Do you think I'll get to do anything tomorrow or just hold the scope?"

"Probably hold the scope." I buried my face into her hair, loving the scent. "What kind of shampoo do you use?"

"Dollar store stuff."

"It's nice," I commented, a peaceful feeling encompassing me, about to pass out again. She was soft, warm, and in my arms...in my bed. I finally had Jordan in my bed again. "Do you . . . my family's having this small thing at my brother's house?" I winced, fully awake now, alive with a nervous excitement. And after feeling nothing for so long, it felt refreshing, except for the word vomit. "It's no big deal . . . I was supposed to go if I could. Most of them probably left already."

"What?" She sat up, leaving the embrace. "Meet your family?" Jordan grimaced and shook her head. "I mean, what?"

"Oh . . . It wouldn't be like that. I don't know." It sort of flew out of my mouth. "It was just an idea."

"You can go. I won't be offended."

"No." I pulled her back down, cringing inside because I didn't know anymore—didn't know about anything. That was when I realized I was just falling into a familiar pattern. I hopped into it with Amelia when Julie and I broke up, and now I was trying to do the same with Jordan—a fool trying to rush in—even if I didn't know how I felt about her yet, even if—deep down—I still had no clue as to how relationships, or being friends with benefits worked. All I knew was that I wanted to know her in a personal capacity and fuck her again.

"Damion?"

I jumped, startled when I heard Amelia. "What the fuck?" I asked myself, hopping over Jordan and leaving the bed. "Get into the closet."

Jordan stared at me like I was crazy.

"Please," I begged, and I heard Amelia using her key on the door. All hell would break loose if Amelia saw Jordan, and Jordan was an innocent—didn't deserve the shitstorm that'd rain down—although Jordan _might_ be able to kick Amelia's scrawny ass . . . 'Cause I knew Amelia would start swinging and ask questions later.

Jordan swallowed loudly, opening the closet door.

"You have the deadbolt on?" Amelia asked, having trouble opening the door, which was a godsend.

"You double locked it?" I whispered, staring down at Jordan.

She smiled for the briefest of seconds. "What's going on? I thought you guys broke up."

"We did." I pulled her into my arms and kissed her again—one of those crazy kisses that makes me forget my name—just so she'd know . . . know something. "Just stay in here," I said against her lips. "Please. I'll explain everything."

She nodded, huffing a breath, but then she grabbed my t-shirt, giving me another smooch.

After closing one door, I paused, trying to wipe the smirk off my face before I went for the other—undoing the lock no one has a key for. "What's up?"

"Were you sleeping?" Amelia asked.

I nodded. "Can I have my key back?"

She ignored that, entering the room and looking around. "We got all the way back to Jersey before I remembered the party at Sonny's new house. Counseling's out, but...are we going to Sonny's? I thought we'd stop by after our appointment, but..."

"Um…" I pushed my hair back. "I didn't plan on it—wanted to catch up on sleep. But you should go . . . you know? If you wanna go chill, then...There's no rule that says you can't still be close to my family." Meanwhile, I knew that once my family knew our relationship was over, they wouldn't care to see her anymore.

"Without you?" Her lip quivered. "I thought we'd tell our parents together, that it wasn't going to work out. I can't—I'm scared to tell my dad."

"Shhh." I patted her back. "You don't gotta tell them shit. But your parents are going to Sonny's?" It hardly made sense as it was supposed to be a small get-together.

"I don't know...I mentioned the party, my mom called your mom." In other words, the Drasso's invited themselves.

"Oh," I said.

She sat on my bed. "Can I stay over?"

I shook my head. "I just wanted to be alone, gather my thoughts and shit."

She quietly sobbed into her hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be."

"And I'm coming over here like a lunatic!" she shouted, standing up. "I was sad before but now I'm just angry!" She was screaming at me now. "You did this—you made me this way! Drove me crazy—with your indifference, how shit went down. I was never, ever like this. I mean, I love you so much." She held her heart, walking toward me. "I made a mistake, but you did too. We both messed up, like you said, and we_ can_ move past it. I know we can."

I backed up.

"Can't you understand? You made me love you . . . and you don't even care about anything. The old Damion wouldn't have let me leave before. You would have fucked my brains out—made me stay. You'd never let me go. You'd never let me leave you—good, bad, or indifferent. You had such a passion, a fire inside. I know if you went to therapy on your own, battled this...numbness, you'd get better."

"We've been done for over a month," I said. "I got used to the idea of being single again. Okay? You can't put this all on me with all the lies you spewed. Give me a break." I was trying hard not to lose my temper; I wasn't that numb. "And I'm done fighting with you. We tried, we tried to make it work, and it's not working." I grabbed her arm, ushering her over to the door.

Because I was now the coldest prick alive.

"Stop!" she pushed me. "Do you still love me? There's gotta be a way we can make this work."

"Not anymore," I whispered. "Once upon a time, maybe if you were straight with me from the beginning?"

"Damion…"

"I can't do this anymore." I kissed her cheek. "Go home, soul search, do whatever."

She slapped my cheek. "You insensitive, motherfucking prick! I hate you!"

I groaned into my hand, reaching for the doorknob with the other. "Get home safe." I closed the door, slamming it with my ass, rapidly locking it while she beat it with her fists.

That was when Jordan left the closet, wide-eyed and scared-looking.

I placed my finger to my lips, but she didn't say anything. She just sat on Ethan's bed, and I knew whatever shot I had to be with Jordan was gone—flew out the door along with Amelia.

After a few minutes, Amelia stopped making a scene and fighting my door. She left. As soon as she did, I ran to the window to watch her enter Pietro's car.

That was when I breathed a sigh of relief. "She's gone."

"She's sounds crazy," Jordan said.

I stared at her, deciding to go with that. "You have no idea."

Jordan nodded. "Not to get on your case after that bullshit. But you can't just kiss me like that." Her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Did you get butterflies?" I asked out of curiosity and because I did. "When I kissed you, did you get butterflies?"

"What does that matter?" She walked toward the door.

"'Cause it does," I whispered. "The sexual tension, just working with you, being around you . . . and then when we kiss. It's nice. It was like that before that night. I just couldn't see it, was too wrapped up in other things."

"You're a great guy, and you're hot—like drop-dead gorgeous. I just don't have room in my life for you—what being with you might entail?" She fidgeted from foot to foot. "Nothing can get between me and earning my MD."

"We've been friends for months. Even if we're just starting to get closer, you know me already."

"One has nothing to do with the other," she giggled, sounding nervous.

"I just—I like you, Jordan." I felt completely juvenile saying that. "Maybe that night didn't mean anything to you…" I waited for her to tell me I was wrong, that it meant something to her. "Okay." I think I got the picture.

"Isn't it obvious?" She tilted her head, staring at me. "I keep coming back, don't I? I keep trying to ignore you, but I can't."

I smiled, nodding my head and sucking in a shaky breath. "How 'bout that pizza?"

She walked toward me and poked my chest. "You're irresistible. Don't do this to me."

"You want me," I said.

"Shut up." She slapped my chest.

"Oww." I was faking being hurt.

"I could fall for you." She kept her tone hushed.

"Would that be the worst thing to ever happen in the history of the world?" I teased, widening my arms.

"It's a scary thought. I have a goal . . . quite a few, and next year I'll have to decide where I'm doing my residency, and I don't want to change my plans because of some guy. I don't want to change at all. I need to stay focused."

"I'd never want you to change. And residency...that's next year." I hugged her back to me. "All I'm saying is we stay friends, see where things go, have fun—nothing heavy, no exclusivity." For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I wanted to continue this. Or, why I didn't want to play the field. I've never done that, never felt the need to. But I dug everything about Jordan; meanwhile, she was always in the background. Now I've seen her, and I can't un-see her, and I wanted her.

"Baby steps," she said. "I'll agree to be your fuck-buddy, but that's it. Friends." She turned in my arms. "That night was . . . amazing."

"It was," I admitted. "You're the number one star in my spank bank—you have been ever since that night."

"Stop lying."

"It's true." I swayed us, smiling widely. "You make me feel like I have possibilities?"

"I don't understand what that means." She held my biceps.

"If you knew the hell I'd been through the last few months, you'd understand."

"Well, I'm no stranger," she said. "I've seen you struggling, which was why I was always so helpful. Some days, while we weren't close, it broke my heart to see you that way—that down. Maybe one day you'll trust me enough to tell me what was going on."

"One day." I smiled. "It's . . . Thank you." I kissed her nose. "Thank you. I was suffocating. You're like a new beginning. My breath of fresh air."

She sighed, resting her head on my chest. "You order the pizza, and I'll go get my books. We can read, chill, and eat?"

"That sounds awesome." I smiled into her hair. "Put on sweats, too—get comfortable."

"I'll be right back." She went to leave, but I pulled her back to nip her lips. "I've never met a guy like you before. Not scared of commitment, wants to jump into a relationship. The way you speak is mind-blowing. But I need us to go slow, to take baby steps..._just_ friends." She actually waved her finger, which was cute.

"You'll have to school me. I've never done this before—been casual when it comes to sex." I looked down to my feet, embarrassed. "And if you feel the need to date someone else, you need to tell me beforehand. I'd go nuts. I'm not saying you can't. We're just friends. But I'd go nuts finding out from a different source." I pointed to my temple, and I realized there was so much she didn't know.

"You, too. You need to tell me. I'm not a jealous person. That's a common courtesy, safer sex and all that. But I have a feeling you'll be enough of a handful, no matter _how_ casual." She winked, leaving my room.

When she was gone, I threw myself down on to my bed to squeal into my pillow. I felt like such a woman, but I was excited. Nothing made sense—finally breaking things off with Amelia, the way I light up when I see Jordan . . . the way things didn't look as bleak, seem as dreary anymore.

Truthfully, I wasn't as at peace as I am now, even during Amelia and my best days.

Nothing made sense.

But I was happy, oh-so fucking thrilled.

With saying goodbye to Lauren and my past, I had to let go of many things—most of my past, actually—losing and forgetting years of my life. Letting go of the anger, the resentment, the immense hate I had in my heart, trying to figure out who Damion truly was, while I also tried to find my inner child, my youth, just so I could give that fucker a hug—let him know things were going to be all right.

And this . . . it felt like the start of something new.

I swore I wouldn't let myself get carried away. I'd take things as they come, continue to heal, and do my best in school, keeping up with my family, and now . . . spending time with Jordan.

I also had a feeling that I'd never had before. It felt like . . . no matter what happened in the future, I'd get through that like I had my past.

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts**_.

**Edward/The Skip is up next! See you next Wednesday!**


	33. Crumbs

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Crumbs**

**Edward POV**

_**T**_he Twilight Club was just as beat—as boring as it has been these past few years, especially with Midnight Sun stealing the spotlight. But I had to show my face. No meetings have been conducted here in a while, as I couldn't trust this joint. None of my guys work it anymore. No one that I am close to is associated with it at all.

Caius continued to run it, while the geese flew to Midnight Sun or Eclipse.

Now that Sonny is going back and forth maybe we can turn this into a moneymaker again.

Earlier, we'd swept the place, so I could be comfortable. In fact, Luke was looking for me, and I said come on down—same with Carlisle and Nunzio.

As a silent partner, Caius would kick up and I'd also get a percentage of the business. If money was slow, I never knew—not until recently—which shows me how dedicated Caius was. Maybe he was a piece-of-shit human being, but that motherfucker paid me—come rain or come shine.

When I reached to sip my second scotch of the evening, I felt bitter about how that all went down. It still doesn't sit right with me, but I had to eat it—had to put it past me. I had Sonny's word; he didn't mean to kill him. Sonny lost his temper, but C-bag's demise was an accident. I have Aro kissing my and Sonny's asses . . . because of Katie.

All in all, everything was okay.

Despite everything that's gone down the past few months, shit was panning out.

I had no cause to complain.

But . . . anyone who knows me well knows that I'll bitch and moan any-fucking-way.

They hauled my ass down to F.B.I. headquarters last night. Bella made chicken cutlets, and she fried them crispy, and I didn't get the chance to finish dinner. My father jumped into action before we left, although he's retired—in more ways than one—and I wasn't under "formal" arrest.

I was questioned about Caius's disappearance, which was expected and yet odd.

In fact, I must be losing my touch since Carlisle brought up a very valid-fucking-point. Joe's whole fucking family just disappeared. Lauren dropped off the face of the earth, and Caius's death makes headway on the wire?

Now, my boys and I are fucking excellent at what we do. Aro cleaned shit up nicely, and there wasn't a shred of evidence—not even a strand of DNA to link Caius to Aro or Sonny, or even me.

Joe's family? Well, Caius took care of that.

Lauren? The only other person who knew about it was killed in a drive-by shooting.

I dot my "i"s and cross my motherfucking "t"s.

But they questioned me about Caius?

They'd ruled his death a homicide . . . blunt-force trauma or some bullshit. However, Carlisle and Aro dropped him off in the South Bronx, a white boy in the South Bronx. All of which likely indicated that Caius was looking to score and got beat to death in the process.

Dead men tell no tales but they make trails, and all fingers pointing to it can't deny that simple conclusion.

Those fucktard Feds let me go before Carlisle even got down there. I wiped my hands clean, expressed my concern, and gave them an answer—something they wanted to hear. They had nothing to pin on me, arrest me for.

Over the years, the Organized Crime Division has gotten increasingly smaller. There's only a select few who bust my balls these days. With terrorism still such a high threat and the economy shitty, there's simply not enough manpower to haunt me.

I'm thankful, but no one turns a cheek when it comes to murder.

Curious, I had Carlisle poke his nose around, needing more answers. I mean, why was Caius such a high priority?

I think—deep down—I know the answer to that already. I just don't want to believe it, so I've been in denial, hoping for the best.

But I know . . .

And yet I find myself hoping it's some freak fluke because of Caius's high profile.

Most wise guys fly under the radar. They're not flashy and don't air their business. Caius wasn't like that—he dug the attention, the women, the expensive cars, and the whole nine. I'm an exception since I'm the boss. My face still gets plastered all over the media when some bullshit goes down—it can be anything. No matter what happens or if I'm truly linked, if there's a suspicion, my picture gets printed.

My face was actually in the papers this week because of who I am, who Caius was supposedly associated with, since he worked for me.

The article was good, too.

Fact-checkers can blow me, but they had a pretty good idea of what's going on, what our dynamic is these days. Sonny's picture was in the paper as well. The headline read "Alleged Mobster Found Slain", and then it went into who he "supposedly" worked for and how—Edward Cullen, Mafia Don of the Cullen empire, will leave his dynasty to his son, Santino Cullen. It also said that we run things as a pair nowadays. That's not true. We're no team. Sonny works _for_ me. When I'm dead, it'll be his. Until then, he's but one of my capos, although still one of my main guys.

Bella went ballistic. She's used to seeing my face in the Times, but Sonny's? Our son refused to hide, says he's got nothing to run from, which is true. But I hear he's got Maggie on a short leash—she's only allowed to leave the house to go to school and my crib, that's it—he's afraid the Feds will go after her to get to him.

Believe it or not, I've slowed down. I don't want to be away from my family—get pinched and do time—but I'd serve out a sentence if need be before I'd sell anyone out. I'd done it before.

Fuckers do my bidding with a smile . . . think it's an honor, so I essentially don't _need_ to get my hands dirty, but I _like_ to.

Some motherfuckers—whether they take the oath or not—start singing as soon as they're asked for a song, as soon as they're threatened with prison time.

Caius was always in this thing and that thing...

One would think they'd be looking to commemorate whoever took him out.

It's funny.

On top of having Carlisle dig around, I called Nunzio here for a sit-down. Just like my brother, Aro, and now Sonny, know almost my every move, Nunz rode along with Caius on nearly everything.

Sadly, while my mind was far removed from my current surroundings, I still had Aro and Luke at the table. Aro can stay, but I wanted Luke gone—to step off. He came out of his way to talk to me about our kids' wedding, or lack thereof, when he needn't have bothered.

Thankfully, for him, my head was too full. I mentally checked out as he droned on and on about shit I didn't want to hear.

I'm standing behind Damion and his decision. It doesn't matter his reasoning or what Amelia did or didn't do, or what Luke just said—shit I didn't hear anyway—or what I'd personally gain from the merger.

None of that mattered.

Damion says he changed his mind, and I'm backing him.

Parents, just like children, sometimes learn from their mistakes. And maybe I didn't support Damion to the best of my ability in the past, but I was going to make up for that in spades—no matter fucking what.

"But if you could speak to your son—"

I put a hand up to stop him. "Enough. The kids had a change of heart. The way I heard it, breaking up was a mutual thing." I wiped my hands clean. "In regards to us—our relationship—I'd like to keep it as is, so there's no problems."

Luke nodded. "I agree. I'm not here to talk about us—business matters . . . father to father, you know?" He gestured between us. "My daughter is heartbroken. My baby girl's not eating, she's not sleeping. Dame's not taking her calls, and it's been weeks—all she does is cry, holed up in her bedroom . . . Skip, I don't want to get into just _how_ disrespectful your son is—"

"What?" I smiled. "Disrespectful? You wanna talk about disrespect?"

"Take it easy," Aro whispered in my ear.

I ignored my friend, staring at Luke. "Do yourself a favor and listen to me carefully—"

Luke sighed. "Forget I said that, please. My bad. I apologize."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Aro cut me off, forever trying to play peacekeeper. "It's understandable. It's a heated topic—talking about your kids," Aro said, nodding his head as he squeezed my forearm.

Luke was fast to speak after Aro. "Bottom line, Amelia disagrees with their separation. She didn't want to call off the wedding. If you could just tell Damion to call her, maybe they can talk this out. Back in the day...it wouldn't have gone down like this, and I know you're a man of tradition. _We_ would have discussed things, like we're doing now, and they'd be married already. My daughter still wants to marry your son. I'd be willing to sweeten the deal, too—that goes without saying."

"Whoa!" Aro laughed. "Even back in our day, arranged marriages were a thing of the past. I mean, I thought it was _all_ _arranged. _Youse two agreed you'd stay out of it—let the kids meet and connect. Sounds like they've disconnected, though." He spoke the truth, but I did wish my brother was around—he has more finesse, ways of speaking without it sounding like a threat. What Aro said wasn't menacing at all, but if_ I_ opened _my_ mouth . . .

"It worked for my parents." Luke shrugged, sipping his drink.

"Mine, too." Aro actually nodded. "But it doesn't always work out. Look at C and Esme—"

"Stop." I placed my hand on Aro's chest, since he had no business speaking about my brother to Luke.

"Sweeten it how, though?" Aro asked, giving me a wary glance.

"Bayonne and Newark Bay—they'd be yours," he said. "I'd pull my guys out. You'd have control of the ports—imports, exports."

"And that leaves you with what?" Aro chuckled.

"The merger still happens—there's peace in Staten Island. We work together like we previously discussed. You'd have my back with moving against those douchebags in Philly." That group is even smaller than Jersey, and yet Luke's worried about numbers. "That's all I want . . . The wedding is back on. If you could convince your son—if they can grant us a grandchild—that'd be an added bonus. It'd solidify things—make 'em permanent." His gaze met mine.

Luke's words about his daughter, only his daughter—while they weren't unreasonable, they grated on my nerves. His presence, him coming here to plead his case, when I know it's mostly for his own personal gain, pissed me off. I had no idea how Amelia was faring, but what the fuck? I bet she was fine.

"No deal." I leaned toward him. "I'm finished speaking about this."

Luke stabbed the table with his finger. "This is the first time I'm able to get you alone, and we can't even talk—we're not even alone." He widened his arms. "I'm here talking to your boy." He gestured to Aro. "This—"

I flinched toward him, which made Luke shrink back. "Get the fuck outta hea!"

"Skip." Aro kept me from flying across the table as he looked to Luke. "You heard him, bro. I'd go—"

"Nah." I waved Aro and his warning away. "Bring this up again, and we'll have problems. It's as simple as that. We said we'd stay out of it. We're _staying_ out of it. The wedding's off...The kids get back together, that's their business."

Luke cleared his throat. "With all due respect—"

"Fuck that!" I shouted. "You don't respect my word or my wishes, you don't respect me. I'm not tryin'a force my kid to marry her."

"Skip, you have a daughter," he pleaded. "Amelia's heartbroken."

I slid out of the booth and walked toward the back. It was the least I could do or else I'd end up bitch-slapping the New Jersey boss around a few of his guys.

And he'd have to take it.

Thank me for it before he left.

Just thinking about that . . . Well, it kind of made me feel drunk with power.

And by walking away . . . Luke will be looking over his shoulder all the time. He wouldn't dare strike first. He may think I need him, need his bullshit tribute, but just like I'd squashed his brother back in the day, homeboy could meet the same fucking fate and I wouldn't think twice about it. I'd just place someone else in his spot, collect the same dough each week.

When I entered the office, Sonny was behind the desk with an adding machine, his fingers prancing along the numbers. He seemed deep in thought about something else, though.

"Yo."

He finally looked up when I slammed the door.

"You busy?" I asked.

He puffed his cheeks. "Just trying to figure out how Caius turned a profit is all. Trying to figure out how to pay you."

I hummed, taking a seat across from him. "There's another mystery to unfold about Mr. Macari."

Sonny chuckled. "Sounds like a movie title."

I raised a brow, noticing he had a little powder by his nostril. "You need to clean up."

"What?"

I hit my nose. "Ease up on that." It bothered me, but he's twenty-eight. He's been busy, and sometimes fuckers need help keeping up. "You hitting the yak every day? What's up?"

"Fuck no...You act like..." He stretched and wiped at his nose.

"People say you can't get addicted to it, but that's bullshit. You can—"

"Jesus!"

"All right." I trusted him, let it go.

"I think C-bag had many a business on the side." He nodded. "How else . . . this doesn't make sense. The numbers don't add up." He hit the paper-tape before he leaned back to sigh, rubbing his forehead. "What'd he give you each week—as profit?"

"Trib or this piece of shit?" I looked around.

"Both—a rough estimate."

I blew out a breath. "I'd get six large a week being a silent partner. It hasn't been that good in years . . . but I still got paid. Kick up? You'd have to confer with Aro about that."

Sonny pursed his lips. "With costs, employees—it looks like this joint clears seven altogether. One can guess Caius—"

"He made sure he paid me." I pointed to myself.

Sonny shook his head. "Something's off."

"Look, how my guys make their bread and butter—Come on, Sonny. He had a hand in a lot of shit. But whatever it was . . . he gave me my percentage. As long as I get paid and my guys are covering their asses, I have no cause to complain. It's as simple as that," I laughed.

"But you also have your hand in everything everyone does."

I shrugged. "The less I know the better, though, overall. I've told you that how many times? As long as it doesn't come back to me—"

"I get it."

I banged my fist down onto the desk. "Don't do that." I hate it when he cuts me off.

"I'm sorry," he was quick to utter.

Truth be told, I wasn't in the mood—not for Luke, not for Aro or Sonny, and definitely not for Nunzio—whenever he shows up. "What time's Nunz supposed to be here?"

Sonny looked to his watch. "In twenty minutes."

"Damn." I hoped to be on the highway and going home in a half-hour. "Do your old man a favor."

"What's up?" Sonny asked.

"Go out on the floor . . . chill out until Luke leaves, make eyes at him from the fucking bar." I smiled. "Make him shit his pants."

Sonny sipped his soda. "Okay."

"Then...some time tonight we gotta talk," I said.

My son furrowed his brow. "Talk to me now. I moved two sit-downs to tomorrow—I'm hoping to leave early."

I heaved a heavy sigh, unbuttoning my jacket and leaning back. "Adriano...he's moving up, right?" I spoke of the half-breed he's got on his crew. He's no knock-around guy, he's earning big, lives out on Staten Island; meanwhile, his cousin's a capo over in Jerz. His family has ties in both states—half-breed, but loyal.

Sonny's lips drew a tight line. "He's the best heist guy I got right now—takes care of a lot for me. I can't afford for you to give him a promotion, unless you planned to have him man C-bag's crew . . . But I'm actually utilizing every head I have. I'm cut in how many pieces as it is—I'm not sleeping. I haven't spent any time with my wife, and you want him? Can I ask when my punishment might be over? I'm earning with three fucking hands here, running C-bag's shit and my own...paying you how much already?"

"First of all, you made your fucking bed. Lie in it," I said.

"But Dame takes out Joe—which in turn killed how many? He gets a fucking pass, and he ain't even in this shit. If his last name wasn't Cullen, he'd be rotting in a ditch somewheres. And I get what?" he asked. "Dad, I agree, all right? If you didn't give Dame a pass, I would've taken the fall for him, 'cause he wouldn't be able to handle the repercussions. But come on already."

"Second, you got five more cats at your disposal." I continued with my previous thought, despite what he said, as I tried to rein in my temper. Sonny was pushing it, pushing me to my limit. "Like _you_ said, _utilize_ those motherfuckers. Spread shit around a little more. Use your fucking head." I pointed to my temple. "Run _my_ businesses. Have the rest do that other shit!"

Sonny nodded, having more on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn't going to say any of it.

"But no, I don't want him for a fucking thing. I'll give you that. Adriano's a capo when _you_ say he is . . . I wanna know what Luke has coming in and out of Newark Bay."

"_I_ could find that out easy." He pointed to himself.

"Well, then..." I shrugged. "Find out when the big shit's coming in. I just wanna know if it's of any value, really," I lied.

"We're moving against Jersey?" he asked. "Dad—"

"No...that's not what I'm saying. I wanna know if that spot's worth anything . . . before we take control of it." Luke made me an offer that I actually liked. He was gonna give that shit up anyway—just because I could put Luke in his fucking place.

"All right. I'll let you know when I do."

I snapped my fingers, thinking of a low-man who used to be on C-bag's crew. "Battista—that kid. Have him and a few others ready to move."

"I'm confused," Sonny admitted. "We're not moving against them, but we're going to find out what comes in and out, and then rob them?"

I winked. "You got it."

"That makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense," I said. "Philly's had their eyes on those docks for how long?"

"You're looking to stir the pot. Say no more. I get it."

"Glad you do . . ." I checked my cell phone for any missed calls.

"I'll—I'll take care of it tomorrow—"

"Tonight. It's just…" I felt badly since he's running ragged, and he looked all hopeful. "Tomorrow's fine . . . Once Luke takes such a large hit, he'll actually beg us to help police that shit. It'll be ours without a struggle, and Bayonne will follow. Now get your big ass out there and scare that motherfucker."

When he left, I called Carlisle. My brother said he'd be here in fifteen minutes; meanwhile, he was late. The twins have ear infections or something. Although he sounded excited to be on his way. Carlisle was either happy to escape his home, or he had some good shit to tell me.

If Caius was up to something shady . . . I had mixed feelings about that.

I know . . . which I keep denying.

What I didn't want was for his possible betrayal to be widespread news. But only because I didn't wanna backpedal and thank Sonny for a job well done. I'd told his ass on more than one occasion not to lay a finger on C-bag, and what does he do . . .

Curious, boredom getting the best of me, I searched the closet we have in here. Tonight's the first time I'm actually out and about, and I wouldn't tell Sonny or anyone else about the hidden cubby under the loose Sheetrock. Back when Jasper ran this shit for Caius, we used to hide money in there. It's concealed nicely, and most fuckers looking to rip the place apart would go for the safe first.

Lo and behold, there were stacks upon stacks of cash in there. Looking around some more, I'd say there was four million in hundred dollar bills.

I smiled to myself, taking quite a bundle to line my waist with, and then another twenty thousand to break up and put in my pockets.

Simply because—the way I saw it—I deserved my piece, too.

The rest, I'll have Sonny divvy up and give to Caius's daughters. Then they'd no longer be his problem or my problem. Just like paying off the widows of those slain, I make sure to take care of the children.

_I'm a nice guy like that_.

As I was about to stand up straight, I noticed that there was linoleum lining the floor. It wasn't like that while Jasper and I ran it. It used to be wood like the rest of the office. Sure enough, a tile gave way easily with the help of my pocketknife.

It was like I'd won the lottery. There was no way I could count how much was hidden in the floor, but if I had to guess it was _another_ six million.

_What the fuck?_ I thought.

Caius was either ripping me off, not giving me a piece of all his earnings—for real—or he kept all his money, every cent, hidden here at Twilight, like what he'd made throughout the years.

"Fuck it." I emptied the garbage pail and started to fill that bitch up.

Once it's all counted, I'll figure out what his twins can have.

"He left, practically ran outta here." Sonny was back. "What'chu doing?"

"Close the door!" I spat.

He did so quickly to stand at my side, just watching.

"Help me," I said.

My son didn't skip a beat, piling the stacks into the trash can. "Where did this come from?"

I smiled. "Old hiding spot from when Jasper managed."

"How much do you think…?"

"Five million?" I lied.

'_Cause I'm a greedy fucker like that, too._

"It was here the whole time? I've been coming here for over two fucking weeks." In this shit, it's easily finders keepers. Sonny could have lifted all this shit, and I'd have been none the wiser. You know what? I don't even think my son would do that. He'd give me my percentage.

"You'll get a piece." I rolled my eyes. "No worries." I'm not_ that_ greedy.

_Well . . . _

Sonny stopped to put his hands up. "I think your friend had more going on here than just drinks and a decent DJ. Where would he get all this money?"

I shook my head. "We'll find out when Nunzio gets here. He or your uncle will have answers. Or it might not be complex at all. You said he was stingy with his crew, and youse didn't find anything tossing his house upside down."

"Not even a quarter in the couch cushions," Sonny confirmed.

"This was likely his one and only stash. Never do this." I pointed down.

"I know . . . I have money floating all over." Sonny nodded. "Some of my money is making its own money." He snorted.

"Good boy."

"I actually opened another account for Maggie yesterday. She doesn't know—it's just in case. God forbid anything happens to me, she's set for life...if I die. I mean, she knows where some of my hiding spots are . . . She's had her own checking account for a while now, for whatever she can't use cash for . . . I'm torn about the other account."

"Why?" I asked.

"Like...should I give that info to Dame? You? Mom? I just—it's a lot of money. Maggie will get all nervous and think something's up if I tell her. If something happens to me—"

"You can trust your brother," I said, trying not to laugh. "Trust. You drop dead, he'll have no beef taking care of Mags."

My son narrowed his eyes.

"I was kidding. Geez." I whistled, getting back to work, filling another bag full of money. "But . . ." I stopped again to stare up at him. "Dame's eased up, with whatever that was, him digging Maggie." I waved a hand. "I used to trust Carlisle to take care of Mom and you guys because he _did_ care for her—_always_ loved you guys like his own. Back in the day, whether he wanted to fuck Bella—I mean, Mom—or not, he still, deeply and truly cared, had genuine feelings, love for your mother no matter where it originally stemmed from. You see where I'm going with this? He cared enough to make sure she'd want for nothing if I was gone. If he put his hands on her after I was dead..." I shrugged. "I'd be dead, haunting his ass, rattling chains, or something." We shared a laugh, the both of us cracking up.

"The point is...is that she's taken care of." I patted his back. "Hey,_ I_ get it. My brother can be a douchebag, too, yet he knows _when_ to do the right thing. Have more faith in Dame."

"Yeah," he said.

"You take the bar next month. Then you'll have your own office. You hide a bundle there, hide it in mutual funds, offshore accounts, stocks, and bonds, too...You put them all in Maggie's name. The house is in yours because—well, it was my gift for you. She divorces you, I still want you to have—"

"Divorce is not an option."

"Youse talk?"

He nodded. "I just...you trust Carlisle with your money. If anything happens to you, Unc knows where all your spots are."

"He used to...I still trust him, but Mom knows everything, and now she has you," I whispered, banking on going before him. I have to—have to die before _any_ of them, which was something I pushed out of my head quickly, not wanting to depress myself. "Something happens to me, all your mother needs is moral support. She's taken care of."

"Oh." He pushed his hair back. "It's weird 'cause...I never really cared before, but now I have something to lose."

I stopped what I was doing once more, able to relate to that more than he'd ever know. "Ain't that a mindfuck?" Sadly, I had no advice on how to cope with that, except . . . "Where you are now, at this stage of the game, it's as close as you'll ever come to tenure. There are no guarantees. The mighty fall all the time. To take me down, whoever would go for you and Aro first . . . or someone close will stage a coup. You gotta keep your eyes open, be able to see your enemies. You make your money when you can, and you enjoy life...I was going to say where," I snorted, "but you're married now. Marriage and this shit, it's a balancing act, with loads of temptation thrown your way...many struggle with. I mean, you're not blind."

"I'm not talking about infidelity." He smirked. "I meant...getting clipped, pinched."

"Oh, I know. My thoughts." I poked my temple. "You find yourself taking fewer risks—" I hit his arm "—being more cautious, which isn't a bad thing at all. Just wait. Wait 'til you have kids, though—wanna talk about worry, shit to lose?" I winced, wishing I'd never said that word: kids.

Sonny hummed, not commenting.

"You know, her upbringing wasn't so far from your own." I almost bit my tongue, but thought, fuck it. "Her family's Catholic, very much so, which means...birth control's a no-no. Some Pope made the decree eons ago. You push, and Mags'll get on the baby train. You're the husband. At the end of the day, no matter how much she bitches and moans, you _literally_ have the upper hand. She's also young, likely easily manipulated . . . I'm just being real about it. You do what you can live with." Damn. I really wanted to be a grandpa.

"Force her to have my baby?" He raised a brow. "At what cost?"

"Eh . . ." I didn't know what else to say, having a feeling I'd said too much already, gave him fucked-up advice to boot. But I want a grandchild just as badly as he wants a baby. "If . . ."

"What?" he asked.

I pursed my lips. "We never had this conversation. Understand? I never said any of that, or what I'm about to say. Your mother will rip off my balls, shove 'em down my throat, and light my ass on fire."

Sonny chuckled. "Stop."

"Okay," I sighed. "Listen, like I said, you do what you can live with. You need to ask yourself how important this issue is. If you can wait five, ten years, whenever she's ready, then by all means. But you _just said_ divorce wasn't an option. So, my question to you is, what are you afraid of? If you'll _never_ let her go, if she_ can't_ leave you, you'd hunt her down, then...what'll happen if you give her a little nudge? Pull out the husband card?"

"Wow." He shook his head. "You probably think I'm a pussy, but all that just made me nauseous."

I shook my head. "That makes you honest, a good person. Not a pussy. All I was saying was that..."

"I know what you were saying. Have you ever manipulated Mom like that?"

"Nothing too shady." I blew out a breath. "Your mother and I play mind games with each other all the time. I don't wanna do something, she uses reverse psychology." I shrugged. "And vice versa. I do that shit to her, too. When I wanted a baby and she didn't, I made her feel guilty...flipped her words around and played some victim." I remembered that fondly.

"What was the end result?"

I gestured to my son—him.

"Oh."

"In marriage, you basically need to learn how to pick your battles...when to make a stink. Depends on what it's worth."

Sonny poured himself some Jack, gulping that shit. "I miss her like crazy. When I get home, she's asleep. When I wake up, she's at school . . ."

"I know what that's like," I said. "Having kids...you'd just be adding to that, though—always feeling torn if you're mad busy."

He nodded.

"Look at me." He met my gaze. "You held a shitload of grudges against me as a kid, all 'cause I wasn't home, was locked up. I remember it all. I'm telling you to delegate, and you have, and yet you're still runnin' 'round the clock. Granted, shit'll slow down soon—once all this Caius shit is settled, and you'll get back to normal. But just think about that shit, too."

"Right now I don't have a choice, but I'd...Dad, if Maggie and I had a child, no matter what. I'd take a backseat because you taught me that my family comes first. I'd do what I do, but...I _want_ to actually be a father to my kids." He spoke so fucking fast.

"Have another shot...slow down." I poured him some more Jack. "Then you learn from my mistakes." I nodded. "Be a better father than I was." Sighing, I sat across from him. "I loved the fuck outta you guys. Still do. I love your mother more than anything. But when I was younger, I loved this shit too." I widened my arms. "I also worked my ass off to make sure that if anything happened to me, you'd all be set for life."

He nodded. "I know how that is. I love this shit, too...but I love Maggie more."

"I love your mother more, too." I snorted. "You kidding? You know how many times she asked me to leave it all behind?" I frowned, doubting myself, 'cause if I love Bella as much as I say, think I do . . . "Edward Cullen doesn't run."

"Neither would his son," Sonny said.

We didn't talk much more after that. We sat and drank from that bottle of Jack, as I'm sure we both thought about our previous conversation. But then my mind went back to this shit . . . the sacks of money.

Now I waited anxiously, yet ten million dollars richer, for Carlisle and Nunzio—needing answers. I left the money I had on my person right where it was, but I was conflicted as to what I should do with the rest, how I'd get it out of the club without anyone seeing.

Technically, I was robbing a dead man.

What was truly surprising about this whole ordeal? How compliant Caius's crew was when Sonny took over. He was likely a dick to them, a hard-ass, but my son ain't no saint either.

Sonny told me they were happy because now they'd finally make some money.

I'd bet some of this cash that Caius made them kick up a lot more than they should have, withheld money after the jobs they'd pull. Each capo runs their shit their way, and Caius was old school. All spoils traveled to his greedy paws first, and his guys got what he deemed necessary.

Plus, he probably put the fear of God into them so they wouldn't complain to Aro or myself.

Sonny runs his crew the way I taught him—how I ran my shit back in the day. He gets a percentage of each heist, each dollar, knows the numbers, and if he's getting cheated. He gets a piece of each pie, but he doesn't eat half and leave them the crumbs.

I told him, _"You treat them well, and they'll treat you better. Use a firm hand when necessary; make examples when you want to. But if you're fair, they'll have more respect. And those examples will instill fear. One hand washes the other, and there's peace amongst ranks."_

"Pull your car around back," I said.

"You want me to leave this much cash in my car?" Sonny laughed.

"No. I want you to put this shit in your trunk, and then get one of the kids to sit on it—watch it. Something happens . . . hey." I shrugged.

"Right." Sonny left, hauling all that shit, while Carlisle was about to knock, hand raised and all. "Um." My son looked back to me.

I waved my brother inside. "Nunz out there yet?" I asked.

Carlisle nodded, smiling widely.

When Sonny left, I grinned back at my brother. "What's up?"

"You—" he slammed his briefcase onto his desk "—would not believe the shit Victor found."

"Victor." My voice took a somber tone, as Victor is our F.B.I informant. "Just tell me." Instantly pissed, I hoped it was some bullshit . . . even if my gut told me that C-bag's name was going to follow in some way.

"Well," Carlisle sighed, trying to hide his smile. "You want the good news or—"

"Just fuckin' tell me!" I shouted.

"Jesus," he hissed.

"I swear to Christ . . ."

"All right!" He put his palms up. "I'll start small and then work my way up."

I nodded, hoping he'd get on with it.

"You don't even know!" He widened his arms. "We dodged one huge fucking bullet!" He could hardly contain himself. "They were building a massive RICO case—very hush-hush, only amongst the higher-ups. Multiple indictments that won't stand on their own. They have shit going back a few years—"

"Excuse me?"

"Victor had no idea—not until recently when they had to throw it out, start at the beginning." His leg was bouncing, yet he seemed confused. "Fuck. I don't know where to start."

"At the beginning," I stated the obvious.

"Right." He chuckled. "I don't know what was said on the wiretap they had—"

"Whoa." I held up a finger.

"Let me finish," he whispered. "Fucking Heidi was their cooperating witness—for what? I don't know, but I'm going to guess you slipped one day, were talking about icing this one or that one. There's no statute of limitations on murder, bro. That's why I've drawn that conclusion, which means . . . That bitch is out there somewhere, just waiting in the wings, living off government dime."

Heidi, now there's a blast from the past, a name I haven't heard in nearly thirty years. She'd planted that bitch in Eclipse—the one Carlisle clipped who turned out to be a Fed. Heidi pushed me to hire her, although—to this day—I still have no idea what the Feds had on Heidi to make her cooperate. She was just a manager, but I have no idea what other things she might have been into. If memory serves me correctly, she had kids—a husband, and yet she'd be my ready escort from time to time. Nothing personal, always business, but she never knew what was really going down.

"I want those tapes."

"There's no way." He shrugged. "Plus, even if they have you on tape, it's not like Heidi knows where the body is. It's bullshit, but they were grasping at straws. With the way shit is, they're not going to come at you unless they have some concrete shit. That's why it's been so quiet. I told you. The prosecutor is tired of the Feds coming at them with garbage—shit I get you out of before your bail posts. Understand? Also, they put her into witness protection 'cause those were her terms. She drops dime on you, plants a Fed, she and her fam disappear."

"Go on. What else?" My stomach was in knots, mostly because I was pissed. Fuck the tapes, my best bet was now finding Heidi. Without someone to swear to who's on the wire, it won't hold up in court. Although I wasn't too worried about Heidi at all, to be honest. Just like my brother said, everything else won't hold up in court either. They all signed a contract, which means Heidi was to be protected no matter what she did for them.

Everyone knows my witnesses disappear.

My brother held his stomach as he blew out a slow breath. "You swept, right? Since keeping shop here?" he whispered.

"Of course." I thought that was a stupid question.

"Caius was nabbed a few years back. There was a raid. Feds got wind he was pushing shit right here. It was kept quiet so they could turn him. That's why we never knew about the Feds coming in here. That was years ago, though."

My eyes widened. "You serious?" I knew that was what he was going to say, that Caius was a rat. Denial and all that.

"He'd been feeding them nothing, literal shit, bro. It's a good thing he's gone, but…he swore to very little. C-bag had his freedom for another nine months. That's it. He had a shelf life, had to bring in the big guns—you—but he _never_ could, or maybe he just never _did_, was loyal to some degree. They know about your arms dealer down south. They obviously know where the coke is coming into New York from. They know about money laundering through Eclipse, although they can't prove that shit."

I groaned. "Now what?"

"They can't use any of it unless they get someone else to testify to it, tell them the same stories, and that's conspiracy. They can't do it. Now we keep our eyes open. We make sure everyone's on the up and up—"

"He was a rat?" Again, I knew it already.

Carlisle nodded. "They have nothing—nothing concrete. If they did, I'd be worried. All they have is Caius's word on a lot of shit. He'd failed to bring them anything solid. So, he either wanted to do right by you, or—"

"He could have done his time like a man instead of turning coats. You dig?" I practically growled, just due to the headache alone. "I'm not in most of that shit. You see where I'm going?" I raised a brow. "The guns, the money, the fucking coke . . . which I told Santino not to push!" I banged my fist down. "That's _all_ Sonny."

"I know. He had a hard-on for him, I guess." He shook his head. "But it's all good. Caius is dead."

"What about Joe?" I asked. "Caius took care of Joe, Marissa, David…He took care of Joe Jr. for Dame." I kept my voice down.

"Well, Nunzio will know about that. They were together, ran together, and they had shit on Nunzio, too." He nodded. "It wasn't much."

"History's repeating itself."

"Doesn't it always?" he asked. "Take a look around. Not much has changed the past twenty years. It's business as usual, but we haven't had a broadcasting problem in a dog's age."

I did the Sign of the Cross. "I wanna know everything—every fucking word Caius said to the Feds."

"I told you. It was nothing solid. He was feeding them crap to get them off his back."

"He had a loot and a half . . . I bet he was planning on running," I said.

"Most likely . . . Bottom line, unless they can come up with a new witness, someone to back what Caius has said without being groomed by the DA, they can't use any of it. It's all hearsay. It's bullshit either way."

"You said they weren't on us because of terrorism!" I shouted. "I should have known better! Fucking al-Queda, my dick." I grabbed it. "You said—"

"I said they had bigger fish to fry!" he hollered back. "They've been after you for fucking years! So, yeah. They have a mini crew set aside who were working with Caius. I bet they disband and go on their way . . . Edward—" he leaned over the desk to place his hand on mine "—if they had anything—any-fucking-thing—they would not have let you leave last night."

I pursed my lips. "You're right . . . but now what? They go for Sonny, which will inadvertently get me. They'd have me by the balls."

"No. Sonny's name—regardless of if Caius blabbed about his shit—wasn't brought up at all. Maybe he said all that because Caius knew that if they looked into it, it wouldn't go back to you—"

"It'd still lead them to Sonny."

"Sonny's not implicated in a damn thing. Your son covers his ass. Trust me . . . My advice." He placed his hand on his chest. "Get the answers you want from Nunzio, deal with that, and then take Bella on vacation. Go away for two weeks. Combined, Sonny, Aro, and I can clean it up a bit. And, for the last time, Sonny's name wasn't on any of those reports at all. Speaking of, Sonny's been wanting to legitimize a lot of this shit. Maybe it's time we sit and listen."

I nodded.

"We'll have shit settled before you come back. Fuck everyone else. Most of all, we need to keep you outta the can. You get locked up, they'll be a split...chaos."

"Vacation's a good idea . . . but before I leave New York, I wanna know where that bitch Heidi is holed up at. Get me that answer." I pointed.

Carlisle chuckled. "Dude, I already have Victor on it."

"How good is Vic if—"

"He had no idea. Now that he does, he can poke around. Understand? He hasn't failed us yet."

"He hasn't," I agreed.

"And if Sonny didn't do what he did, we wouldn't know a fucking thing. They'd still be preparing indictments and whatnot."

I waved that away. "Sonny disobeyed an order—went against what I said. Just because C-bag's death is now justified, doesn't change a thing. But now you got my head spinning—"

"What?" he asked, sounding a bit frustrated.

"First off, watch your fuckin' tone. Second, did Joe turn? Are they _truly_ dead? Are the Feds gonna show up at NYU looking for my son? This is what's swarming my brain at the moment." I twirled a finger by my temple. "C-bag had my blessing but it was to be a joint venture between him and Sonny. Yet, he took care of it by himself—kept Sonny out of it."

"Joe Jr. and David met the ass-end of Ronnie's meat grinder at the deli. I know that because of Ron. He wanted to know who it was and shit. I told the old man to mind his business. Caius and Nunzio took care of Joe Jr. and his brother," he sighed. "Damion's fine."

I nodded. "And C-bag told me he had some Puerto Rican dudes stage some shit for Joe and his wife, and then he took care of them. He led me to believe he covered his tracks. But did he?"

"I think so," he said. "Only because—murder is murder—and no matter what Caius gave them, he wouldn't get away with a capital charge. Furthermore, Caius could have given them enough shit to put you, Aro, and me away for life. He didn't."

"A rat is still a rat."

"I know that. All I'm saying is that you have nothing to worry about." He grabbed my drink to take a sip.

"Go get Nunzio." I jerked my head to the door. "Tell Aro to come back too."

"You're golden." He slapped his hand to mine. "I'm your lawyer, your brother, and I wouldn't lie to you. If I had anything to worry about, I'd be shipping your ass down to Brazil. Fuck. Alex, me, and the kids would be behind youse."

I nodded, not commenting on any of that, but his words did ease my mind.

While I waited for Aro to come back with Nunzio, I called Damion. Usually when I'm in a mood, I'd call Bella. But I didn't want to worry her, and shit was still up in the air . . . Then again, if the Feds knew about my son's involvement in Joe Jr.'s death, they would have picked him up by now. Yeah, my worries were pointless, but I called Dame anyway.

He was chuckling, in a good mood, when he answered. "Hello?"

"You sound happy." I smiled.

"I am." His answer—not matter how jovial he was—was short like always.

"What are you up to?" I asked.

"Oh . . . studying."

"And…?" I tried to get him to elaborate.

"That's it," he said. "We're studying—Jordan's here."

"Hi, Mr. Cullen!" A feminine voice greeted.

"How'd you know it was my dad?"

"I saw his name flash—Dad," she giggled.

"Oh . . . hello?" He was talking to me again.

"Bring her by the house this Sunday." I nodded. "Let Mom meet your new boo-boo."

"Um . . ." He was stuck, that much was apparent. "We're not—it's not—uh...She doesn't know." He practically breathed that last part, which led me to believe he was keeping us—his family—away for a reason, a secret.

"No worries. Bring her by when you're ready. I spoke to Luke earlier." Needless to say, my fuckery aside, I was giving Dame a nine—give him back his heat—at least until Luke cools down. "I want you at the house on Sunday. Whether you bring Shorty or not, that's up to youse."

"What'd, um, he say?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," I lied for the time being. "I'm going to say this, only this . . . I want you to stay low-key."

He didn't have a comment, likely just listening.

"I have nothing to fear unless shit comes back to haunt you. He might seek you out, since . . . Just watch your back. Cool? If I find out you're doing this or that, I'll have someone tail you."

Did I honestly think Luke was going to do something? No, I didn't. But having Dame stay under the radar keeps him out of trouble—from Luke and, God forbid, the Feds.

"I understand," he said. "I'm not about to live in fear, though. I make no apologies for how shit went down. And if Luke needs me to set him straight, then so fucking be it."

I nodded, fucking beaming. "Bet . . . Love you. Get some studying done. Not just anatomy."

"Love you, too." He chuckled, ending the call.

Damion being in a good mood, lighthearted, made me feel all warm gooey inside, like a Toll House cookie.

Still smiling, I went to dial Bella, but then Aro came in flanked by Nunzio and Sonny. "Where's C?"

"He's getting a drink."

I nodded, sitting back and waiting for the three to have a seat. The current setting wasn't lost on Nunzio, who sat on one ass cheek, giving me this pitiful gaze. His eyes said a lot; they said he had something to fear.

"Undress," I said, needing to make sure this wasn't a broadcast.

"Come on." He showed me his palms.

"Easy way or hard way." I shook my head.

Nunzio looked put out, but he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled down his pants.

"Search him," I told Sonny.

When my son was done frisking him, Nunzio put his clothes back on. The lucky fucker was clean, so maybe he didn't know all of Caius's secrets.

"Break it down for me—the Fugiani hit." I spoke of Joe's family.

He widened his eyes, puffing his cheeks to let go of a breath. "C-bag paid off some Spanish kids. It was a carjacking gone bad, and then they lit it up. You know. They had no living relatives to identify . . . none of us got involved. They're probably cremated or in Potter's Field."

I nodded him along. "What happened to those kids?"

"Anton, C-bag, and I . . . we rolled up to their 'hood to drop off the other half. And before we paid them," he laughed, "we capped both of them. We didn't even bother cleaning a thing. Neither one of us heard shit about it." He shrugged.

I hummed, feigning nonchalance as I sent Sonny a text message, telling him to leave and find Bianca—Nunzio's daughter. He knew not to do anything—just stand by—but I needed insurance.

"Oh, I have to go. It's the missus…" Sonny showed me his cell phone.

I waved, biding him farewell. "How's Bianca?" I asked Nunzio. "She like living in Brooklyn now?"

"Skip…"

"Just tell me. It's polite conversation." I smiled, looking down to text Sonny again. He was to drop that money off with Bella.

"She's—she recently got a job with a realty company on 85th Street." He seemed uncomfortable, which was expected.

"Leave us for a second." I looked to Aro and my brother, who weren't contributing to the conversation anyway.

As they left, I rose from the chair to walk around the desk. "You sure? That's all that happened?"

"Skip, about Joe Jr., you have my discretion—your son has my discretion just as, as—I spoke to Bianca. She never saw a thing."

"So you've said." I nodded; we'd had this conversation before. "But you see my predicament? I just found out that your boy, C-bag, was ratting to the Feds. Can I trust you? Well, I thought I could, but now I'm not so sure. What would you do…? If you were me, and someone might know something about your child . . ." I trailed off, toying with a letter opener.

He slid himself and the chair back slightly, and I followed his gaze with my own.

"Hmm?" I asked.

"I took an oath," he said.

"Eh . . . these days." I shrugged. "What does it mean? Not a fucking thing since all you pussies can't do a fucking bid!"

"I'd die before I'd—"

I waved a hand, as all the dramatics weren't necessary. "I have ways . . . You know I have connections. If I find out—"

"You won't 'cause I'm not." He rushed out.

Meanwhile, at this point, I couldn't afford to lose another big earner. I couldn't afford to have another body slain in the street, or another fucker gone missing. But Nunzio doesn't know that. So, while my threats were only half-empty, he was going to heed my warning.

Plus, I hadn't done anything yet and he was already scared shitless. That was when I knew . . . Despite taking a back seat, regardless of slowing down, I still had their fear, their respect.

"One step outta line—" I shook my head, placing the letter opener to his throat "—I'll gut you and your daughter like fish!" I ran the blade along his neck, swiftly and smoothly, making him jump and cry out. But I never broke the skin.

"Skip, I-I—"

"_You…_can leave." I backed off, leaning my ass against the desk again.

Nunzio scrambled to his feet to get out of the office. And it was all a little disheartening, while it also squelched my fears. I still had Nunzio's word. He wasn't doing anything behind my back, only following what his superior—Caius—told him. It was sad because the poor fucker practically crumbled in fear before me.

I could either take that as a compliment—since I know he truly has balls of steel—or worry that he's gone a bit soft.

Alone again, I sighed and sent Sonny another text message. This time, I told him to abandon his plans—forget about Bianca—drop my cash off to his mother and then take the night off.

He'd earned that much . . . saving me a huge-fucking-headache in the future.

As for this dump—which is what it was nowadays—I thought about placing it on the market. They could make it a parking lot for all I cared. It couldn't stand on its own. Caius kept it open as a front for all these years—that much was apparent now. The drinks are watery, the talent isn't what it used to be, and . . . I think Caius just stopped caring.

Again, I'd always gotten paid, so I wasn't looking into it that much, nor did I chill here anymore.

Fuck. Maybe Jasper could turn it around. Maybe Sonny can, but I had no interest in it at all.

By the time Aro came by to seek me out again, I was ready to leave.

"Sonny's not coming back," I said. "I can stay and close, or—"

"I got it." Aro patted my shoulder. "You have enough worries."

I nodded, reaching for my waist. Aro actually flinched, like I was going to shoot his ass or something. But I took out a wad of cash, likely ten Gs easily. "Thank you."

He looked relieved, taking the money. "Thank _you_."

I laughed, leaving the office.

"Skip!"

I turned back to my friend.

"I'mma close at like one. Cool?"

I nodded, going to meet up with Carlisle. He stood near the back, where his car probably was. "Dad, I told you . . . Look, I can find you a great place. No, that's not what I'm saying." He was on his cell.

"What's that old fuck bitching about now?" I asked.

Carlisle turned to me. "He said, 'shut the fuck up'."

"Oh!" I grabbed for the phone. "Wait, old man!"

My father was still shouting into the phone when Carlisle hung up on him. "He doesn't want to stay at my house. He doesn't believe me. Your place is quieter."

I nodded. "He's got cabin fever, but he's planning this big night out—wants me to throw him a party at Eclipse."

"Yeah, Sonny said it's all set for next Saturday," he laughed.

"Drive me home?"

"To the corner. No need for Dad to chase me down the block." We were both in hysterics as we went out the back exit. Carlisle's whip was parked in the alley, and he took off fast. "I'm glad this isn't a late night."

I didn't have much to say, finally able to relax in the car. "Saturday night, we'll have Dad's party. But before that, I want a big dinner—no beef." I briefly glanced at him.

"Hey, Dame came over on New Year's Eve. There were no problems."

"Exactly," I said. "He's coming next Saturday, too, I think. Whether he wants to or not. He hasn't seen much of Dad because . . . I mean, he's busy with school." A part of me didn't even want to force Damion to come to Eclipse. Maybe the farther he stayed away the better, especially since he's doing so well—being so far removed from it all.

Carlisle didn't reply.

"Then, that week, I want you to take both Kylie and Dad. A vacation does sound nice. Maybe Kylie will want to stay with Sonny. Either way—"

"I get it. You deserve time away."

"Cool." I grinned, content to sit back while he drove.

It's true. Once the thought entered my mind, I couldn't shake it. Bella and me leaving the winter behind, leaving everything behind, going someplace warm—just the two of us.

But then another sneaky thought came to mind. "Before I go anywhere, I wanna know where Heidi is."

"I told you. I'll do my best."

"No, do it."

"Okay," he agreed.

/=/=/=/=/

To my surprise, Maggie and Sonny were still at my crib when I arrived. My father was nowhere to be found. But Bella, Kylie, and the rest were in the kitchen.

"Hello, wife." I kissed those lips, wanting a lot more, but restraining myself.

She turned up to smile, Uno cards in her hands. The three females were playing while Sonny stuffed his face with food, sitting on the counter.

"Daughter." I kissed Kylie's hair. "Maggie-Mags." I squeezed her shoulder, making her giggle. "Where's my money?" I looked to my son.

"The garage—still in my car."

"Go get it." I jerked a thumb.

He hopped off the counter, went to walk out of the kitchen, but then he turned back for his plate of linguini—by the smell of it—with clam sauce. "Think I don't know..." He guarded that shit.

Sonny was right; I'd planned to hijack his meal.

"I'll heat you up a plate." Maggie offered.

"Thanks." I sat at the head of the table, watching Kylie throw down a Draw Four before Bella slapped another.

"Draw Eight!" Kylie shouted to her friend.

"Shhh." Bella scolded. "Grandpa's sleeping."

"No, he's not," Maggie said.

"Where'd he go?" Bella and Kylie asked in unison.

Maggie shrugged. "He left with Vito when Santino arrived."

I laughed but was quick to compose myself when Kylie's large, worried eyes met my own. "Don't worry. Vito will look after him." He was probably on his way to get a blow job or something—knowing him—and he'll be a sport, buy Vito one, too.

"Screw this, then." Kylie tossed her hand away. "Let's do something. Who wants to do shots?"

Maggie and Bella were quiet, and so was I.

"No one? You guys are no fun."

"I have school tomorrow," Maggie said, taking my dish out of the microwave.

"Thank you."

"I just…" Bella looked from me to our daughter. "I'm exhausted."

"From what?" I was curious.

"You act like I do nothing all day—"

"No fighting...Daddy?" Kylie got in my face.

I twirled the pasta around my fork, scooping it up with my spoon. "It's late. When Sonny comes back up, he's leaving. Your mother and I will be going to bed shortly."

"No, you're not. You're home early!" Kylie gave me some look. "That means—"

"Go to your room." I pointed my fork.

She folded her arms across her chest.

"Kylie, don't upset your father . . . Please." Bella did sound tired, which made me wonder what she'd done today. I'd had a full day and left extremely early. My wife had still been sleeping. "I'll be back…I have clothes in the washer," she told me.

I squeezed her hand as she passed me. When she was gone, I reached for my waist again. "Here's a hundred bucks." I slapped it into my daughter's hand. "Go to bed."

She grinned. "My daddy…" Kylie opened her arms to hug me.

"That's all you're getting," I said with a mouth full of food.

Kylie pouted but then left the kitchen with Maggie following her.

I managed to eat most of my plate before Sonny arrived with my money, his mother hot on his heels. "How much is all that?" Bella had bug eyes, looking awake now.

I chuckled. "I haven't counted it yet."

The garbage bag was full of money as was the pail and another shopping bag . . . Sonny didn't dump it onto the table. All I planned to do tonight was leave it in my office and lock that door.

"Where did it come from?" Bella asked.

"Just a big payday." I scooped more food into my mouth. "I won it."

Bella rolled her eyes.

"Maggie with Kylie?" My son was rubbing his hands together, likely thrilled at the prospect of being home—with his wife—before midnight.

And Christ, I knew that feeling all too well.

"Yeah…I'll see you tomorrow." I gave him a fist pound before he kissed his mother goodnight.

In a matter of minutes, my son left with his bride and Kylie was in her bedroom. It was quiet, and I was able to finish my meal in peace. Bella was fast to rinse the dish, but I caught up to her at the sink.

"Leave it," I whispered, nuzzling my nose to her ear.

She smiled, leaning back against me. "What do you have in mind?"

"Help me put the money in my office?" I was joking but my wife turned to slap my arm. "I'm kidding."

Bella furrowed her brow. "Where'd it come from?"

"I found C-bag's hiding spot." I swayed us, stealing another kiss. "And to celebrate, we're going on vacation. I don't know when or where exactly. There's shit I gotta take care of first."

"Why?" My wife sounded wary.

"It's just business stuff."

"No, why are we leaving?" Her nails dug into my bicep, tears welling in her eyes. "What happened yesterday, for real?"

"Nothing." I smiled, giving her an Eskimo kiss. "I told you. I wasn't arrested or anything. They asked some questions."

"I was so relieved—Kylie was at the salon. We haven't spoken about it. All day…Edward, all day, and all last night, I was—" She started sobbing.

"Shhh." I placed my lips to hers. "Nothing's wrong. Okay? I wanna go on vacation 'cause we both need one."

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. "We can't. What if we leave and they decide they need to ask Sonny something? We can't—"

"Bella." I palmed her cheeks. "Listen to me. Do you think I'd leave if Sonny was in hot water? No fucking way. I'd never. You know that."

She sniffled, nodding slowly.

"Sorry for that remark before." I bit her nose.

"Oh, garlic clam breath." She swatted me away.

"You love it." I bit my lip, getting two handfuls of ass. "Can we go to bed?"

"Then there's Kylie. Since Peto left, she's back to being mopey and sad . . . I don't feel right leaving her either."

I groaned, leaning away. "We need this—you and me. We need a vacation. Just us, just us chillin' by a pool or on some beach. They'd be able to contact us, and we'd be on the first flight home from wherever. Okay? Aro and Sonny can take care of business—both outside and in."

"Our plates are always so full. A couple of days somewhere close is cool, but actually going away?" She winced. "I'm surprised you're so cool with it…just leaving everything."

I shrugged. "I want time away, so I can devote every minute to you." I fucking meant that shit, wholeheartedly, and Bella giggled. "I'm serious."

"I know," she sighed. "We just haven't…focused on each other, really and truly, for a while."

"That's exactly my point." I nodded. "And we'll talk. Being away . . . it'll give me the opportunity to . . . safely elaborate."

"I knew it."

"Nothing's wrong." I never knew taking my wife on vacation could be this difficult. "We don't have to be away a whole week, although I was hoping for two."

"Two whole weeks?" she laughed. "Edward." Bella grabbed a dishrag to wipe down the counter. "Seriously?"

I tore the washcloth out of her hand and made her face me. "We're leaving. And we'll be back whenever-the-fuck. Understand?" Sometimes my wife—like my business associates—only listens to commands and/or demands. "All three of our children are adults . . . Damion looks out for himself nowadays. I have no reason to worry. He's doing well—however, whatever he's doing. Sonny? Sonny looks out for Maggie and vice versa. Also, Aro and Carlisle have Sonny's back, no matter what. And _everybody_ looks out for Kylie. Come on, baby." I swayed her from side to side.

She smiled. "You're right. But who are we going to leave here? Your father? He'll sleep with hookers in our bed—God knows what. I'd sooner let Kylie throw a keg party. Your father is like . . . Ted, the bear from that old movie?"

I threw my head back and laughed. "No one will stay here. We'll lock it up like Fort Knox, have Vito or Sal keep an eye on it. We'll have it swept when we come back. It's business as usual. My dad can stay in a hotel."

"Okay." She nodded. "We're doing this!" She took it so seriously. Then again, sharing her life with me has groomed her to take everything seriously. Well, Bella's still a goofball at heart. Lately, she's had a lot on her mind.

We all have, which was why going away is coming as a godsend. I know that once Bella is relaxed and having a good time, staying out of Dodge an extra week won't be that big a deal.

She'll see . . .

"We'll go anywhere you want." I kissed those happy lips.

"Anywhere?"

"No Harry Potter whatever." I waved a finger.

"Don't be silly . . . Besides, the girls and I were planning on Orlando for Spring break. We'll stay at a Disney resort." She nodded. "Maybe Damion will come, too. It'll be big, like the vacations we used to take as a group? I mean, we actually have a group again. Our family has grown."

I smiled, nodding. "That sounds nice."

Suddenly she frowned, turning back to me. "What did Luke say? Elena won't answer my calls…"

"Stop calling her. You owe Elena nothing." I wiped my hands clean. "In fact, I don't want you talking to her at all."

"But how'd it go?"

"Fine," I said.

"Really?" She wore a hint of a smile. "There's no—"

"Really," I sighed, taking off my jacket.

"But why can't I talk to—"

"Can we go to bed?" I gathered as much shit as I could, hoping Bella would get the rest as we walked down the hall.

Once she plopped the grocery bag of money on my desk, she left, saying she was shutting off the lights. I followed after, locking the door, making sure all the doors and windows were locked—making my usual nightly rounds.

I set the phony alarm, too, to be a fuck—just in case Dad came back here.

He wants to sneak out, he can stay at a hotel or at Vito's, or shit his pants when the alarm sounds.

It was almost midnight by the time Bella and I got into bed. I was exhausted and so was she.

"Where did you wanna go? You hate long plane rides." She snuggled into my side.

"Wherever you wanna go." I kissed her cheek, inhaling her. "The past few months have been rough. I wanna go someplace we can relax." A groan escaped me as I ran my hands down her body.

Ever since she brought up my lack of eating pussy, I've been doing a lot more of it. Sadly, I haven't received more blow jobs. I'm not complaining. After I eat it, I hit it, and then we're both happy. But tonight . . . I wanted sleep, or to have my wife.

Last night, when I got home from being questioned, we had some crazy sex. Yet, we didn't speak at all about what went down—we spoke of nothing F.B.I. or business-related. We hit the sheets, and then we danced under them.

No, tonight . . . Tonight I was content to hold my wife, relax within her embrace. Thank God for luck—for being so lucky these past few years. Thank someone for me being able to keep Bella, my children, and my business going for as long as I have.

"I love you." Bella's voice was filled with emotion.

When I nudged her cheek with my nose, I knew my eyes were likely glassy as well. "More than . . . you know." I smirked against her lips.

"Say it," she whispered.

"More than there are stars in the sky." I rubbed her cheek with my knuckles. "You're beautiful." After all these years, her beauty astounds me. Now that shit is something to be grateful for: a wife—a gorgeous, knockout of a wife—I can't keep my hands off of. I never said I was Don-Fucking-Juan or Romeo, spewing lines and all that sappy shit.

But I do well . . . Edward Cullen holds his own.

"More than anything," she replied, kissing me deeply.

My wife became overzealous, and we made love . . .

I was able to hit it before I'd licked it.

No matter, she lost herself on my cock and came mad fucking hard.

When we were spent, both of us staring up to the ceiling, I knew I was going to be a hundred dollars poorer in the morning.

Our daughter likely heard us, and she was never going to let me forget it.

A vacation never sounded so fucking good . . .

**Thank you for reading.**

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

The mighty will fall.  
**The strong will break.**  
**The courageous will cower.**  
**The proud will die.**

**All will succumb to the power of love.**

**The mighty will fall with or without love, but with love they will have the strength to climb higher.**

**The strong will break with or without love, but with love they will have the courage to rebuild themselves.**

**The courageous will cower with or without love, but with love they will proudly face their fears.**

**The proud will die with or without love, but with love they will have a reason to live.**

**- Unknown**

**That has nothing to do with anything...just something I saw on the net, and if you smart mofos know who wrote it, enlighten me. Thanks! **


	34. Dinner

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**NOTE: Chapter 34, Chapter 35, and Chapter 36 all take place on the same day/night. **

**PLEASE DO NOT SKIM THIS CHAPTER. IT'S BUSY, CHOPPY, LOTS OF DIALOGUE AND CHARACTER INTERACTION. YOU MIGHT GET LOST.**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Dinner**

**Sonny POV**

**L**ooking in the mirror, I straightened my tie, which was extremely tight and uncomfortable.

It's not every day I wear one . . .

Aggravated, I loosened it and tossed it onto our bed.

"What's wrong?" Maggie asked, looking up from a book.

I huffed a breath, unbuttoning my collar. "Nothing."

She gave me a small smile, going back to her reading.

I stared at her reflection in the mirror.

_God…_

She was beautiful, wearing a simple wrap-around dress that trailed down to her knees. It was burgundy with a plunging neckline, allowing me a slight peek at the goods—the tiniest hint of cleavage showing.

Her hair was parted and down, swept to the side—those long, loose curls falling over her right shoulder. She wore very little makeup; she doesn't need much—if any at all. Maggie's lips were glossy and full as they moved silently, her darkly lined eyes following the words on the page.

My wife wore black stilettos. However, while one shoe was on the floor, the other dangled from her toe—her foot wiggling.

I'm sure she's none the wiser—not even aware of what she's doing—driving me crazy.

The picture I saw reflected was perfect.

We were in our new bedroom—the master suite of our new home, which is pretty fucking big as a whole. We bought a new bed, all new furniture, and I hardly recognized anything…except her, except for my beautiful wife who's been so quiet lately…since we moved in.

"Hey," I whispered.

She grinned, looking at me through her long, dark lashes.

I turned around. "I love you." Once upon a time, I'd say that too much, but now it seems we don't say it enough. I'm running around like a chicken without a head, and I can hardly remember to tell my wife I love her . . .

"Oh my God, yes!" Maggie closed her books rapidly—in a hurry—overlapping her notebooks and textbooks, pushing them away. Our bed was covered with her school stuff. "I love you, love you, love you, too!" She leaned back on her elbows, uncrossing her legs, dropping that shoe, licking her lips, and pushing her tits out.

My chest felt tight as I continued to stare at her, wanting to pounce but needing self-control. This house is so big; I couldn't smell the lasagna, yet I was sure it was done.

Our company was due to arrive at any moment . . .

I smiled, bending low to nip her lips. She fisted my jacket, moaning onto my mouth and pulling me down.

As much as I wanted to, we couldn't get carried away. "I should check on dinner." My eyes fell to her grip; she was going to wrinkle my collar.

With her eyes wide, she slowly let go of me, opening her hands. "You're kidding?"

"What?" I quirked a brow. "You okay?" Her face was flushed.

"Oh, I'm fantastic." She grabbed a book, and the look in her eyes . . . I think she was contemplating beating me with it.

"We okay?" I was confused.

Maggie stood from the bed, staring into my eyes, but she wasn't doing it with the hopes we'd kiss again . . .

"Stop," I said, blinking and looking away.

"You better go check on the food." She fanned her face. "Don't want _that_ to burn."

Heaving a heavy sigh, I left the room and went down to the kitchen. On my way, I passed our dining room that was all set for the small dinner party were hosting tonight.

Our parents were coming, along with my grandfather, Carlisle and Alex, and Kylie. I didn't care about what my parents thought of our home. The lot—except for the Sullivans—had been here numerous times. My family helped us move in, decorate, arrange furniture, and the whole nine.

My in-laws . . . I wanted things to be perfect for them. I was to cook and Maggie was going to set everything up—something she was anxious to do. She'd also cleaned this place from top to bottom. Our home looked immaculate.

But she outdid herself, fixing the dining room. It looked amazing, like something out of a magazine. The china—the matching plate set my mother bought us—was elegant combined with the crystal glasses that were a gift from my aunt and uncle. The silverware was placed correctly. The silver candelabra added that extra…effect? She even set up a side table with different wines and beverages, leaving the ice bucket empty for the time being.

This was another heartwarming sight—the whole place was.

I've been working a lot, going back and forth, doing my best to keep up with everything, handle my responsibilities . . . I'm keeping even more off hours. I leave early in the morning, after Maggie goes to school, and then I'm coming home late.

When I'm actually home, my new favorite thing to do is marvel and revel in everything—how wonderful shit is.

I only wish I was around to enjoy it.

I'd let go of everything Katie . . . At the end of the day, I was immensely happy with my life, my new bride, our new start, and it almost felt as though I had been doing Maggie a disservice—holding a grudge, being angry at the past when my present, my future was so bright already. I thought my anger cheated Maggie in a way, so I cut my losses.

Maybe I fell in love with the idea of having a child, and letting go of that was hard, but I was okay.

In a few years, if I have any say in the matter, our children will occupy all those bedrooms upstairs . . . Toys will litter the great room that Maggie admitted she modeled after my parents' . . .

Right now, it looked great as well, all set for when we'd have coffee and dessert later.

When I finally made it into the kitchen, my smile was beaming. The lasagna was finished and the skin on the bird—the whole roasting chicken—was just beginning to brown.

After I took the lasagna out, I placed it onto the table along with the salad.

"What's up?" Maggie asked.

I turned around, furrowing my brow, confused. "Nothing."

She didn't look happy at all, turning and going back into the kitchen.

I followed, seeing her grab three bottles of salad dressing out of the fridge.

Then I waited for my wife to elaborate. Often, if she thinks there's something wrong, and I say nothing's wrong, she'll _tell me_ what's wrong; meanwhile, I contemplated when I should put the mashed potatoes into the oven to warm. I'd made those and steamed some string beans earlier . . .

"I mean . . ." She just walked out, her arms filled with things, yet she didn't say any more.

I munched on a piece of bread, leaning back against the counter while I waited for her to come back.

Maggie arrived not a minute later, keeping her head down. "Did you do any of that stuff today?"

My shoulders dropped. "I told you—I haven't in over a week," I lied, feeling like a piece of garbage inside.

If I wasn't getting a little help from a certain substance, I'd be dead. I'd never be able to keep up the way I have been, and maybe—at the present time—Maggie is taking a backseat. But it's not as though I have a choice. Shit needs to be taken care of, and I didn't snort any yak today.

Last night, I was soaring high, and then smoked a joint to get over the lull—get two hours of sleep. This morning, I woke up feeling like crap—wanted to do some very badly—but I didn't. I went out, did what I had to do, and then I came home to make dinner.

I was fine.

It was something I needed—just until things slowed down a little—and Maggie didn't understand that.

It's still controllable.

I'm fine right now.

Well, I_ was_ until Maggie brought it up.

Somehow, she knows when I'm high—she says I'm weird, my temper gets worse, which it does—it gets a lot worse. I snap at her, and I don't know why she brings out the worst in me sometimes. She won't even talk to me, afraid to set me off.

Maggie thinks I don't know . . .

But just like I try to hide it from her, she always knows when I'm fucking flying, and then she leaves . . . makes herself scarce. She'll go meet up with Kylie, even if I'm home for seemingly the first time in fucking days.

And I couldn't hold that against her.

"I know, but . . ." She shook her head.

"Are you saying I look coked out? Strung out?" I asked.

"No . . . you act different," she whispered. "You know it scares me."

"It's not like it's a problem. I'm not getting any sleep, baby. I'm trying my best . . . it's like coffee." I shrugged. "But you don't like it, so I'm not going to do it anymore."

She swallowed loudly. "So, then…the coke that's in your drawer, I can flush it?"

"No." I snorted. "That's a lot of money you'd literally throw down the toilet—"

"If it's not important and you don't need it, why can't I get rid of it?" Her foot tapped, and she was trying to rein in that anger, just like I was.

"Because I fucking said so. We're not discussing this anymore!" My body stiffened. "Every-fucking-time you bring it up—"

"'Cause it's wrong and you know it's wrong!" She stomped her foot. "You're not you! You're a stranger. I miss you like crazy, and yet I don't wanna be around you!" She covered her mouth with her hands. "I didn't mean that."

"You did," I said, but I wasn't angry—not at her honest words. She was right. Some nights, I can come home a little earlier than I actually do . . . but by that time I've already done how many lines…? I just stay out, do what has to be done, as much as I can.

"I'm not...I'm not accusing, Santino. I'm recognizing...How…" she walked closer to me, "tell me how to help you? I don't know what to do. It's like you're slipping away—literally. I'll help in any way I can. You just have to tell me how. I see you with books, the adding machine . . . I'm okay in math. I can help, um." She shook her head. "I'll do whatever will make things easier for you. But how do I help you stop doing that stuff? The coke doesn't scare me. You on it scares the crap outta me, Santino."

"I'm fine." I palmed her cheek. "No more. I've been good, I swear it."

She gave me small grin. "Okay . . . I want us to get back to normal—"

I smiled, pulling her into my arms. "We'll be better than normal. We haven't even had the chance to christen every room yet." I wiggled my brows.

She nodded. "I miss making love, too. We haven't…" Maggie looked down and away, and she was right.

Her distancing herself while I'm high actually comes as a blessing—a blessing in disguise—because I can't trust myself. The last thing I'd want to do is hurt her, and . . . I've gotten pretty fucking close, seeing red, losing it, wanting to smack that nagging shit right out of her.

When it comes to sex, the only time I'd ever had sex on coke was with the chicks from the club. It wasn't like I gave a fuck if I was too rough.

"It's been…almost a month."

"No," I said. "A month?"

She stared up, into my eyes. "You didn't do anything today, right?"

"No."

"You haven't?"

"Not for the past week." I let go of her, the persistent nagging getting on my nerves once again. "Baby, I'm fine."

She still looked upset—a mixture between sad and angry—because she knows I'm lying.

Carrying on and ignoring that face, I was about to baste the chicken when I heard the doorbell ring.

"I'll get it," I said.

Making sure I didn't have my nine in my waist—which was a change of pace—I walked to the door. Ironically, I wasn't nervous. It could have been my in-laws, but it wasn't. Carlisle and Alex were the first to arrive with a bottle of wine.

"Hey!" My aunt wore a smile, opening her arms for a hug.

We embraced in the foyer as my uncle checked the place out. "Nice." He nodded. "It came along. It almost doesn't look like the same house," he laughed; the last time he'd been here, we were eating pizza out of the box on the living room floor—the main living room.

I shook his hand. "Thanks."

"Glad you could make it!" Maggie was enthusiastic to embrace them as well, quick to take their coats, which I took from her.

That's when I saw her frown, when she thought no one was looking.

"Go 'head—get comfortable. Dinner's almost ready," I told my family, hoping for another minute alone with Maggie.

Their coats were flung over my arm, and I'd barely closed the door before I saw my parents and Kylie coming up the walkway. "Youse made it!" My phony smile fell briefly, a face missing from their group, my grandfather's.

After all, this was sort of his night. The party we were throwing in his honor—for no good reason whatsoever, just because—was tonight. And although we'd moved the venue from Midnight Sun to Eclipse, I knew he'd have a good time. It just worked out better—having practically the whole organization congregate at Eclipse. The women in my family were upset they weren't allowed to come.

By all means, the women were going to party, too. They were to convene here while we were out.

In vain, I hoped that maybe Robert—Mr. Sullivan—might be inclined to join us, and Kathy could stay here. Truth be told, I'd be happy if Maggie's mother just spoke to her.

When we all got together for Christmas, it was awkward. Even if I hate the prick for his past indiscretions—placing his hands on Maggie, I had to give him credit. He tried, conversing—albeit at a minimum—with us all, but his wife did not. Maggie would try and engage her mother into conversation to no avail. Thank God for my mother. She was a great buffer for the two—also defending us whenever a remark was uttered . . .

The Sullivans actually wore on my father's nerves. He was uncomfortable with not being able to be himself, and he wanted to kick them out of his house, but he never did.

"Where's Grandpa?" I asked.

Dad jerked his thumb. "He's coming."

I smiled again, giving my father a half-hug as I saw my grandfather come out from behind the fence, slowly following Kylie. "Mom." I kissed her cheek.

Always concerned with our well-being, I knew what my mother was going to say when she reached up to hold my jaw. "You look tired . . . but happy."

I chuckled. "I am—very happy and very tired."

Mom sighed, going inside with Dad.

"Sonny!" My sister widened her arms, sprinting the rest of the way.

"I just saw you yesterday," I said, thinking I was getting a hug.

Kylie didn't reply, quickly going around me. "Where's Maggie?"

"Inside." I waited for my grandfather, and my sister disappeared.

"I'm comin'!" Grandpa hollered, decked out in his old man gear—his cord cap and tweed coat—using the cane that my father says he doesn't need.

"Take your time." I met him halfway, linking my arm with his.

He pushed me. "I'm not dead yet—back up. When I start shitting myself and biting people—after throwing my shit at them, you'll be the first I call. You might be the only one to give a fuck." He started to drone on and on about his death, or impending decay. "No, my Lizzie—she's an angel. She'll take care of me."

The way I hear it, my Aunt Lizzie just tolerates him. He has his own apartment in London. The best was when we spoke of his woman situation, or lack thereof, on New Year's Eve. He said the females of Great Britain spoke funny, think him charming, and yet it's hard to find a good blow job.

British, American, I can't see how any chick would find him charming. Not any more. He just doesn't give a fuck in his old age, but I remember the way he used to be. That was just ten years ago. He was still old, but the women still flocked. I recall hoping I'd be as lucky as he was—being a hundred and fifty years old and still getting laid. Of course, that was when I believed I'd die a bachelor.

Although, these days, I hear he pays for most affections—finding prostitutes convenient, which is gross.

"No…my Kylie." He nodded. "She's a good egg—your sister. She's annoying as fuck, but a literal angel."

"I heard that!" Kylie had her hand on her hip.

Grandpa held his forehead. "Did I say Kylie? I meant your mother." He patted her shoulder, keeping up with Dad's charade.

"Let's hang your jacket." My sister fussed.

I laughed, feeling better, lighter, as I entered the house.

"Eh…" Dad rubbed his stomach. "If someone's cookin', I'm eatin'. Of course we're here." He widened his arms. "Thanks for having us, Maggie-Mags."

Maggie giggled, giving my father a hug—hugging him very tightly, more than what's usual for a greeting.

"Sweetheart, you okay?" He leaned back to look at her.

I loved watching them interact. Our relationship notwithstanding, I think he equates her to Kylie, a second daughter. Well, she is his daughter-in-law.

But my stomach was in knots, since my father is very observant.

And if my very honest wife is upset, all anyone has to ask is if she's okay, and then the dam breaks—the waterworks start.

"Yes." Maggie nodded. "I just . . ."

"She's excited to have you guys here." I was quick to add, holding Maggie's elbow, a silent warning.

She nodded again.

Dad smiled at us both. He was going to join Mom, but Maggie caught his attention again.

She was up to something.

"Anytime . . . You guys don't have to be like, formally invited." She rushed out. "You know that, right?" She turned, probably searching for Mom. "You're always welcome…"

"Thank you, Maggie." He palmed her cheek, throwing a wink to me.

"Just promise to make yourself at home," she told him. "I'd love it if everyone felt that way—this is their home, too." Maggie's gaze fell to her shoes.

Dad gave her a look, like she needn't tell him that. "I wouldn't say that too loud—you won't get rid of us." He went toward the living room. And anywhere he goes . . . the man doesn't even need some kind of claim, he'll act like he owns the place anyway.

Maggie faced me. "Did you see them walking over yet?" She spoke of her own parents.

I shook my head. "Not yet."

She took the coats from my grasp. "I'll . . ." My wife turned for the closet as Kylie started speaking rapidly about Gio, helping her with the simple task, but Maggie wasn't interested.

She was afraid her parents weren't coming, she was worried about me, she was angry at me, sad, upset in general—about to fucking lose it. If I hadn't intervened, Maggie would have bawled her eyes out in Dad's arms—I knew that. For whatever reason, my wife was an emotional wreck.

Ignoring my family as they moseyed into the dining room, I gently squeezed Maggie's shoulders, bending low to her ear. "They'll be here. They said they would."

"Did you not see us talking?" Kylie had the only attitude. "I need to talk to her—"

I rolled my eyes, pointing a finger. "Go sit down." My voice was stern as fuck—coming out her mouth like that . . .

My sister left us, giving me a dirty look.

To my surprise, Maggie shrugged out from under my hands. "I'll serve drinks…"

"They'll help themselves." I wrapped my arms around her. She wasn't getting away that easily. "Have I told you how beautiful you look?" By any means necessary, I needed to cheer her up.

"No," she whispered. "In fact, you haven't called me beautiful, sexy, or anything—nothing in a long time."

"No," I disagreed.

"Yes," she argued. "We've barely said a word to each other, and that seems to be just fine _with you_." She poked my chest. "Other things—" she spoke of the coke "have been more important, but I'm glad you decided—"

I chuckled without humor. "Keep that finger to yourself." There was no way we were going to have this out now with a house full of people. Whatever her problem was, she could keep it to herself for a little while longer.

"We seem to be keeping _everything_ to ourselves these days." She scoffed, walking around me. And I think she was letting it all out because she knew I couldn't do anything—yell, or even speak of matters.

"Whoa!" I stopped her, grabbed her bicep, bringing her in front of me. "You have something you need to get off your chest…?" Worst than fighting in front of everyone, would be the grumbled, under-the-breath comments, and the animosity.

"You know why I'm upset." She furrowed her brow, studying her wedding band.

I nodded, still feeling uneasy. "Regardless of saying it or not, you know you do. You know I think so—you look stunning, gorgeous." If she needed more compliments—although I couldn't imagine why—I'd gladly give them.

Maggie's . . . Christ. To me, she's the baddest, sexiest bitch there ever was.

And she was all mine.

Suddenly feeling much better, my hands roamed down her back, trying to get her to be less rigid within my embrace. "If you're still angry with me, we'll talk it out later."

"You're going out later." She wouldn't look at me.

I turned her chin, catching her gaze. "I'll make time—before I go . . . Can we please play nice while we have company?"

"Okay," she agreed but gave me her cheek when I leaned in for a kiss.

"Kiss your husband, dammit." I feigned aggravation, trying not to laugh but also trying to make the situation lighter . . . Maggie knew _I_ wasn't angry at the moment.

She gave me a small grin, which turned into a beaming smile. It must have mirrored my own. I know I can't help myself when I look into those eyes. "Santino…" She playfully pushed me.

I pulled her into my arms, my nose touching hers.

Maggie let out a shaky breath. "I wanna stay mad at you." Her hands ran up my shoulders, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape of my neck—shit drives me batshit crazy, made me groan.

"Tough . . . Don't stay mad at me."

"We need to talk more, but I'm happy you stopped, you know…There's other stuff—"

"Shhh." Our lips met, and right as I was about to deepen the kiss and grab me some ass, the bell rang again.

Maggie jumped out of my arms. "It's them; they're actually here—you get it." She nodded, placing her hands on my chest.

"We both will." I acquiesced, pushing my hair back and collecting myself—having caught the only hard-on during that…kiss. Shit.

When _was_ the last time we'd fucked? Honestly, I couldn't remember.

"I know why you're pissed," I whispered. "It's sexual frustration—makes everything worse. I knew it'd been a while, but I actually just realized—"

"Well, we can't do anything about it now," she whined, gesturing to the door. "My parents are here." Her voice got all squeaky.

"You're right." I nodded, my head cloudy.

"Santino." She nudged me.

"Yeah…" Leaving my arm draped over her shoulders, I reached for the knob with my other hand, hoping the semi in my slacks wasn't noticeable.

When I opened the door, my in-laws seemed to be silently arguing—passing something back and forth, fighting over who would hold the covered pan/dish, whatever they had.

"No, you give it." Kathy—Maggie's mother—pushed the foil-wrapped dish into her husband's arms.

"Good evening," Mr. Sullivan greeted, fumbling with what now looked like a pie in his hands.

"Glad you could make it. Please, come in." I stood back, taking Maggie with me as they entered.

"Hi, Mom," Maggie said, waving. "How are you? You look nice."

A long coat covered her mother. "Margaret." She gave her a curt nod, stepping farther into the foyer.

"Wow…it's a lot bigger inside, isn't it?" Mr. Sullivan looked around, up to the cathedral ceiling, handing me the plate. "It's apple pie."

"Thank you," I said, giving my wife a slight push toward her father.

"Dad…?" She stood there expectantly, and I hated this—that it was this awkward.

The Sullivans looked out of place. Maggie didn't know _what_ to do, and I was just as clueless. Meanwhile, the rest of them were probably drinking wine and gobbling down the lasagna already. And I bet my mother checked the chicken, put the mashed in the oven to warm.

My family, or should I say _our_ family, would be at home because . . .

If Maggie and I live here, this was_ their _home, too.

We're family. That's just how it is.

Robert stared down to his daughter. "Margaret Anne...don't you look marvelous—like a lady. You look all grown up." He palmed her cheeks, a slow grin appearing. "How are you?"

"I'm amazing, Dad. I'm really, really happy." Her voice was filled with emotion as her hand reached to hold mine.

Neither one of them turned to me, but I kissed her palm—to let her know I was right here.

By her tone alone, I knew she was trying to ease whichever fears her father might have had, assure him she was fine. And maybe she'd said all that for her own benefit as well.

We were going through a rough patch.

Our petty bullshit aside—hindsight, overall—we were happy, healthy, and in love. As a couple—fuck, if we could just get rid of the outside world—we were perfect.

"And I'm so happy you're here." She hugged him, letting go of my hand.

I breathed a sigh of relief, finally closing and locking the door.

We weren't waiting for anyone else. Damion was missing, said he couldn't make it, and I wasn't even sure if he was coming out later on. He'd be missed, but I know he's doing all right.

After I finished hanging their coats, I trailed into the dining room to join everyone. Just like I'd previously guessed, the rest were chowing down, laughing and conversing as the Sullivans took their seats.

I pulled out a chair for Kathy, trying to be polite, but she's always a hard sell—pulling the bottom of the seat in for herself. Then I went for Maggie's, always the gentleman, before I took the head of the table.

"Thank you all for coming," I said to them all, holding Maggie's hand.

"Do you two have an announcement…?" Carlisle had a mouthful, pouring himself some wine.

Alex gasped. "Will there be a little Santino some time soon?" She clapped, getting excited.

"Um, no." Maggie shook her head.

"Then dig in." Dad gestured to the food. "Shit's good—Mom's recipe, right?" He was tucked into his plate, didn't even look up.

"It is," Alex answered him. "It came out fantastic." She pointed to her dish with her fork. "Don't tell Bella," she told Maggie. "You could give her a run for her money."

Kylie laughed. "Sonny cooked it, right?"

Maggie giggled. "It's edible, so yeah."

"Stop." I chuckled, serving her, placing a nice big helping of lasagna onto her plate. There was a salad, too, but it didn't look like anyone was going for it. "Maggie made the salad." I put a shitload into my bowl because it looked delicious as well.

"Are there chickpeas in it?" Grandpa asked. "'Cause I'll be fartin' all fuckin' night."

"No," Maggie said. "Just…regular salad stuff…tomatoes, cucumbers, black olives…" She trailed off.

"Lettuce, too." Kylie added, piling some into her mouth.

"No!" My uncle gasped. "I can't believe she put lettuce in the salad!" Carlisle was teasing my sister.

Dad squinted, pointing his fork at her. "You're going back to school—"

My sister's expression said it was obvious. "I know..."

Dad nodded. "And you better study."

"Throw some in here." Grandpa held out his bowl.

My wife served him and, without asking, she gave some to her parents, placing salad in Mom's bowl, too, even if she wasn't occupying her chair.

My mother clapped, joining us from the kitchen. "The chicken is almost done...Oh, honey—" she looked my way "—I put the mashed in the oven." She squeezed my shoulder.

"Bella, sit down. You're off tonight. Let _them_ serve _us_," my father laughed.

"I was just—" she looked to Maggie and me "—I wasn't overstepping or anything. You guys were greeting everyone…busy," she said, going to sit next to Dad.

"Oh, it's no big deal," Maggie told her. "Feel free to do what you want."

"No such thing as overstepping." I winked.

"Um…Mom, would you like some wine?" Maggie offered.

"Water is fine." Kathy replied, and the water glasses had already been filled.

"Dad?" Maggie stared at her father.

"I'm all set. Thank you, deary." He winked in her direction.

Maggie grinned, scooping a forkful into her mouth.

"Did'ju catch the game last night?" Dad asked me, which was a stupid question.

It was the fucking Pro Bowl, and before that, the playoffs. Maybe I didn't sit through the games and enjoy them, but I knew the scores. I've been busy with that shit along with everything else—keeping up with my bookies, making sure people pay—pay me, get paid.

"Yeah…" I nodded, chewing, realizing I wasn't even hungry.

"Those motherfucking Cowboys!" Carlisle shouted. "Do you know how much money I lost?" It was hypothetical; he placed his bet with me. I knew exactly how much he lost.

"How much?" Dad asked. "Just tell us and shut the fuck up about it already."

I laughed my ass off.

My uncle was still shaking his head. "Why do I bet on New York? Fuck them! Enough. I won't tell you how much. Know I lost _enough_ fucking money—"

"Carlisle." Alex warned, placing her hand on his forearm.

"What? The kids aren't here," he defended.

"Well..." My aunt was staring at Kathy and Robert. All of which made the whole table turn to them.

Here we were—talking, profanities falling from careless lips—and they had their heads bowed in prayer.

My uncle winced, going back to his food.

I looked to Maggie. She was staring at her parents, too, only because—at the same time—she'd reached for my wine glass to steal a sip while they weren't paying attention. No, not a sip. She guzzled the whole glass, and I think the last time she had alcohol was New Year's Eve, which was a while ago.

"Thirsty?" I whispered.

Her cheeks were flushed as she slightly shook her head—nervous as fuck. I could feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves, and there was something else going on with her, or us as a couple.

She was about to speak before our guests arrived . . . She never had the chance, but my thoughts went back to the coke, or maybe us not fucking—losing touch. We spoke about those issues already, though. Usually, she's upset, I talk, and then we're okay.

I had a feeling it wasn't the lack of sex. I think she's feeling the brunt of just how busy I've been. We've barely so much as cuddled or even watched a fucking movie since we moved into this house—weeks now—a month.

Personally, I felt the loss—knew I missed her—I just figured I'd make up for it before she noticed or bitched.

The same with the blow…

It was too late. Now there was officially a problem—she had a problem, and I no longer had the opportunity to intervene.

We spoke about the coke. So, if it's not my absence that's troubling her, then I probably did something _else_ to tick her off; I just have no idea what _else_ I might have done.

I kissed her cheek. "Everything's great—the food's good, everyone's eating." If I couldn't fix that other shit at the moment, I could help alleviate her immediate concerns.

Maggie nodded, and then we all did the Sign of the Cross when Mr. Sullivan said "Amen".

"You guys must think us a bunch of evil heathens, huh?" Kylie asked.

My in-laws had blank expressions.

"Dig in!" Mom exclaimed. "Please…" She gestured to the food, giving my sister a side-glance.

Maggie and Kylie giggled at each other, likely sharing the awkward humor.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**T**_he first course of the evening dragged. Conversations stayed at a minimum because…I think everyone was unsure of what they could talk about. Mom and Alex actually kept their husbands civilized. Grandpa was another story, just speaking his mind along with my sister, which was good for the occasional chuckle. They were great at keeping the silence and those uncomfortable pregnant pauses at bay.

It was all an act for the Sullivans—us being polite and shit.

Otherwise . . . it'd be loud, fun, and easygoing—manners non-existent.

"You have another son, don't you?" Mr. Sullivan stared across the table at Dad. By now, all that was left of the chicken was the carcass, bowls and plates empty, everyone ready for dessert. "He didn't make it for Christmas either."

Dad nodded, leaning far back in his chair. "Yeah, he's busy with school." He placed his fist to his mouth, silently belching. "'cuse me."

"This one will be joining Maggie at NYU, too." Carlisle squeezed Kylie's shoulder.

My sister smiled, eyes dancing about the table and stopping at Maggie. "We're gonna do it up in the fall—you and me, sista!"

Maggie laughed, nodding. "I can't wait to look at the course catalog—"

"Excuse me?" Kathy turned to her daughter. "You were accepted at NYU?"

"Well—" Maggie paused.

"She got a full ride to Saint Mary's—she's a shoe-in for acceptance," Kylie said. "Flying colors!" She reached to give Maggie a high-five. "I'm the worried one." She smiled at Kathy.

"Sister Cecilia gave me a great recommendation. All my ducks are in a row—" Maggie went on.

Kathy stared at me and then to her daughter. "And how will you balance it all? You're married…I'm sure you'll be starting a family soon."

"I'm not pregnant!" Maggie shouted.

Kathy and Robert faced each other.

"I'm not," Maggie said again. "For the last time, I am not with child. Why do you think that? You kept asking on Christmas—"

Robert crinkled his brows. "Ya got married—"

"Because we were in love," my wife said.

"Were?" I asked.

"Were. Are. Same thing." She winced. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, she got the birth control shot. She's good," Kylie defended. "No worries, Mr. Sullivan." She winked, nudging his elbow with her own.

"A shot? Like an injection?" Robert seemed confused. "Are you not well, my dear?" He grasped Maggie's shoulder.

"Uh…" I spoke up, wondering how he drew that conclusion. Kylie was trying to help, but she was so straightforward.

"Margaret, you're a married woman now." Kathy wore a frown. "I apologize. I'm not quite sure how to elaborate."

"No, please do." Mom nodded. "She's married now. So, what?"

"Stay out of this," Dad whispered, but I was able to hear him.

"While this house is beautiful, it won't keep itself." Kathy sat back, her lips drawing a tight line. "How are you going to help your husband if you're all wrapped up in school? Marriage is fifty-fifty. If Santino is doing the right thing, then by all means, so should you."

"You said you'd take care of her," Robert stared at me.

I smiled. "I am…I'm doing so to the best of my ability, and Maggie going to college won't hinder anything we've got going on around here." I wasn't sure what else I should say. "She's wants to go to college, I'm sending her."

"Oh, you say it like you're doing me some favor." Maggie practically spat that shit at me. "You're _sending_ me?"

"Baby, I didn't mean it that way," I whispered, squeezing her thigh. "You want to go—you're going, it's _your_ choice—and I'm making sure you're able to."

My wife palmed her face in frustration. "I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's okay." I rubbed her back. After all, she's been nothing but patient with me, and this . . . I could understand.

"NYU…that's a pretty penny," Robert commented. "Did you apply for scholarships?" When Maggie nodded, he looked to my parents. "Margaret is very smart. She's got the potential to be anything—"

Kathy faced us, cutting off her husband. "I just figured you'd want to start a family right away. He's not getting any younger." She gestured to me, and I suddenly felt ancient at twenty-eight. "Margaret, while it's taken me a bit to accept your choices, this is what you signed up for. You're a wife. You'll be a mother. Maybe there will be time for college later, but your plate will be too full—you'll spread yourself too thin."

"No." I chuckled without humor. "I'm sorry if you were misinformed—if you think I married your daughter so she'd clean my house and cook me dinner—that's not the situation. I love Maggie. We love each other, and we wanted to be together. She goes to school now. I work, keep long hours, and yet we're still able to love and support one another—we're able to be together."

Sadly, that shit was a lie . . . but Maggie's balancing everything great. She loves and supports me just fine, more than I deserve. It's me. I'm failing at being a good husband, getting fucking high to stay awake . . .

I was disgusted with myself.

Suddenly queasy, I sat back and shut my mouth, afraid I'd have to run and vomit.

"Yeah." Maggie sniffled. "You don't respect me or my-my decision to get married, or my house, or my husband, or his family!" Her voice continued to rise.

The both of them—just like Kylie and my mother when there's a problem—seemed like they were just waiting for the right opportunity to jump at each other.

"Shhhh." I rubbed her back, but her problem wasn't just with her mother . . . Maggie knew all that bullshit I spewed was a lie, too—except for the part where I said I loved her, loved her to death was more like it. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

She turned her watery gaze to me. "Don't go out tonight."

I barely heard her, her tone was so low, but I read her lips.

"Please." She squeezed my hand tightly.

I leaned over to kiss her cheek. "We'll talk—no worries," I breathed into her ear.

Maggie stiffened, cringed but didn't say anything, and maybe nobody noticed.

But I did.

And I was stuck . . . 'cause there was so much that needed to be said, especially before Maggie blew up and made a scene.

"You people for real?" Grandpa asked the Sullivans. "I get the religious thing…but instead of focusing on the birth control aspect, look at it as smart family planning. Margaret isn't ready to start a family. She wants to go to school, learn, make something of herself. And I see no reason why she can't love my grandson while doing so...Fuck...They can hire a maid. I always had one. The wives I had never cooked or cleaned worth a damn—"

"What?" Carlisle asked. "You better watch it, old man!"

"Except your mother. My Elizabeth—God rest her soul." He did the Sign of the Cross.

"Here we go!" Dad threw his hands up.

Grandpa continued, hopping to a different subject. "Sonny does all the woman stuff. His mother taught him well—he can care for the house better than Maggie anyway. He made this meal, didn't he?" He ranted, reaching to give me a fist pound. "Whenever they choose to bless us with a child…they will." He shrugged. "I just hope I'm alive to see it…that's all. So, whenever you're ready…"

"Well, let's just clear the table and he can knock her up right here!" Dad banged his fist down, being a sarcastic fuck.

"No pressure." Kylie snorted, but then she covered her mouth and leaned into the Sullivans. "My grandpa doesn't know what he's saying, and my dad was kidding."

"Yeah, I'm crazy!" Grandpa waved his hands in the air. "Take away my knife. I might cut a fucker." He laughed his ass off.

Kathy pulled her chair farther away from him.

"Ed, take it easy." Alex stole his silverware. "Finish your wine." She pushed his glass to him.

"I have to pace myself. The night's still young and I got a pocket full of Viagra!" he exclaimed.

"That's disgusting!" My sister shrieked.

"But Kylie…sex is such a beautiful thing," Dad said sweetly. "In sixty years, that's what Gio's going to be like—saggy ass, balls, and Viagra."

"Mom, make him stop!" Kylie shouted.

"Who's got a saggy ass? Not me!" Grandpa hollered across the table. "And you're not that far behind me, Skip . . . I'll be sure to leave it in my will. When I die or twenty years from now, I'll pay for your ball lift!"

Dad and Carlisle cracked up, and Mom hummed. "Babies _are_ a blessing. But when they have one…that's up to Maggie," she said. "Furthermore, having a child and attending college will be difficult, but it's not impossible. I'd babysit—my husband and I will be behind them 100%."

"Mom…" I gave her a look.

Although her words were meant to be supportive, they sounded _more_ than encouraging, almost persuasive. Trust me; I still want a fucking kid very badly, but not at Maggie's expense—not if it'll make her miserable and resent me. She means too much to me. We can have as many babies as we want when she's ready. I only have one Maggie; I only have one life that I am sharing with Maggie . . . and I was blowing it already.

Carlisle raised his glass. "To Sonny and Maggie…may they have healthy, beautiful babies when they're ready."

"And I hope that their first child will be a masculine child!" Kylie kissed the tips of her fingers.

"Oh!" Carlisle shouted. "Someone's been watching _The Godfather_—"

Robert was suddenly having a coughing fit, and Kathy patted his back.

"Did I say something wrong?" My sister stared at Maggie's parents.

"No." Dad stood up and reached for her face. "You're so fucking cute. Gimme a kiss." He planted a smooch on her cheek.

"To Sonny and Maggie!" Alex said.

"My handsome boy." Mom held my jaw.

I smiled and lifted my glass along with everyone else, which was a nice gesture. But it did nothing to take away the tension in the room. "Come here, you," I told Maggie.

She giggled and kissed my lips before turning to the table. "We're also going to be planning a wedding, so you all can come."

"Yeah, we are." I shared another smile with my wife, leaning to kiss those pouty lips again. "Relax."

"I'm trying."

"Planning a wedding? You're already married." Kathy shook her head. "I just can't imagine how you'll manage your time…" She genuinely seemed concerned, though.

"You know what, Mom? Everyone has problems with time management." Maggie was about to blow a fuse—at her mother or at me—and I was still smiley, thinking about our wedding. Only now I was aggravated because that time management comment was directed at me; I know it was.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot, Agnes," Grandpa laughed, coming out from left field with that one. "With all due respect, as I'm not sure if you got the memo, there's such a thing as having sex for pleasure—"

"What?" Mr. Sullivan shouted. "What'd'ju go and say that'fer?" His accent came out. "To my wife, no less? Speaking of sex. What the devil's—"

Grandpa put his hands up. "All this holy-roller bullshit…They're a young, healthy, very attractive, married couple. And sex isn't just . . ." He was trying to be polite, although he sucked at it, and he was at a loss for words.

"Whatta ya talkin' about?" Dad spoke with his hands. "We're not talking about that anymore."

"Sex ain't always about babies!" Kylie nodded. "That's what Grandpa's trying to say. Sometimes…you just need to get it. Maggie and Sonny have a lot of sex. But they don't wanna baby right now."

"Kylie…" Dad sighed.

"Dude, you're not helping." Carlisle gave my sister a nudge.

"Actually, she is helping," Mom mused. "'Cause she's right, but I can also understand your concerns." She looked to Kathy, who turned to my grandfather.

"You called me Agnes. My name is Kathleen," she corrected him.

Grandpa finished his wine. "It was a joke—_Agnes of God_. Maybe if I threw a lamp at you people, you'd lighten up."

Kathy hummed, ignoring him and facing my mother. "When we were first married, we wanted a child right away." She grabbed Robert's hand. "As it turned out, we weren't granted a child until later on in life. But that was the Lord's decision . . . When God—"

Maggie groaned. "You know what, Mom? Dad? You don't have to worry about any of that—don't argue—because _everyone_ is correct. People actually need to have sex—whether they enjoy it or not—to get pregnant, so . . ." She'd said it slow, smiling sweetly at her parents.

And now everyone knew there was nothing going on in our bedroom.

My fucking blood boiled—forks clanked against plates, the room went silent, and not even Kylie had a smart-ass remark—and I swore to Christ . . .

I grabbed Maggie's bicep. "Help me make coffee?"

"You guys stay here." Mom shot up. "I'll make the coffee."

I yanked Maggie out of her chair.

"Sonny!" Mom exclaimed, nearly flying across the table at me, but Dad caught her.

I looked to my wife, my chest heaving, my anger nowhere near ready to subside. How she could embarrass me like that . . .

My wife stared at my hand . . . and that's all she did as tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Sonny!" My father banged his fist down onto the table, which caught my attention. "Sit down!"

My eyes refused to leave hers, but I did let her go.

Maggie turned from me, her entire body shaking . . . my Shaky, but her body wasn't quaking in a good way. "Everyone finished?" she asked.

Briefly, I glanced at Mr. Sullivan, having forgotten he was here, and now wondering why he didn't take a swing at me. He was acting none the wiser, staring down at the table.

I was taking deep breaths, calming down just a little. Of course, I had to make a bad situation worse. Maggie was in tears, the room was quiet . . . I wanted to leave, grab my fucking keys, and just go—afraid I'd lose it if we talked about it right now.

My wife swallowed, trying to hold back tears, and picking up her plate along with a few others and mine, stacking them loudly—otherwise, you could have heard a pin drop in that dining room.

"Espresso, right?" I asked my father and uncle.

Neither said a word, just sitting there.

"We'll make both." I faked a smile, clearing some more dishes.

"Could you put on a pot for tea?" Robert asked.

"You got it." I practically ran into the fucking kitchen.

Maggie had her back to me, leaning her hands on the sink. I pulled her around to face me, not deterred by her tears. "What the fuck was that?" I kept my tone hushed.

"I don't know."

"What kind of answer is that? _You don't know?_" I asked, thinking she sounded child-like.

"No one's on my side," she cried.

"What?" I had no idea what she was talking about. "I defended you. My grandfather pled your case very well—"

"No." Her lip quivered. "Not that."

"Then what? Help me out here." I wiped her tears away with my thumbs and took a quick look around us. "Come here." Taking her hand into mine, I ushered her out the second entrance to our kitchen—no one could see us or hear us. I thought we'd talk in the hall, but Maggie pulled me into the downstairs bathroom.

"Things are changing—they've changed. You said they wouldn't," she whispered. "I wanna go back to the apartment. If having this house means you have to work more…" Her words broke my heart.

"And then I'm scared out of my mind…you have a drug problem." She was hysterical, trying to hold it together.

"No…that's—" I hugged her to my side tightly. "I messed up. I did something, and the repercussions…I'm busier. There are ten other—new things I'm in charge of. But it has nothing to do with the house. And yes, I was . . ." I huffed a breath. "I was using but that's over now—I swear it. You don't have to be scared of me. I'd never—"

"You're lying," she sobbed.

"I'm not!" I nearly shouted.

She sucked in a hallow breath. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, baby." She had no idea. "But we need to be on the same side—show a united front, especially when we're around other people."

"You don't understand. When I say I miss you, I mean I miss the old you." She wouldn't look at me.

"I'm the same. I haven't changed. I've just been busy."

"You talk about being on the same side, yet you agree with all of them." Maggie grabbed some tissues to wipe her nose. "Maybe we should make lists . . . But my biggest problem is the coke, and I'm sorry . . . I don't believe you when you say you're done. I know—in my gut—you're lying."

I groaned. "I'm only saying this one more time. The blow isn't a problem. You dislike it? I'm finished with it." I wiped my hands clean, serious about that shit. "We're not talking about that anymore—don't make me repeat myself."

"Okay . . ." She cringed, pulling her own hair.

"Now…what do I agree with them about? What...? What are you talking about?" I sat on the closed lid of the toilet, pulling her down to my lap.

"Everyone keeps bringing up the baby thing…they act all friendly, but it's like they're trying to sway me—want me to be pregnant. Even my parents, and I don't understand it. You said nothing would change."

"I…" I was stuck for words for a second. "You know I want a child, but I'm content to wait for you. Who cares what anyone thinks? I'm not married to them._ You're_ my wife. What _you_ think—how _you_ feel—_that's_ what's important to me."

"You're doing it again—saying you respect my decision, and yet I'm left feeling badly for denying you," she sobbed. "Then I feel like we're losing touch, and I think it's because of this issue and you using drugs. All these things run through my mind…"

"Shhh." I rocked us. "Just relax."

"Even Bella and Kylie, too." Her face crumbled again. "They have this passive, manipulative way of…making suggestions…I don't know if I'm saying this right. They're on my side, being my friend, but they're pushing in a way that—to anyone else—wouldn't seem so."

I nodded, pushing her hair away from her shoulder. "Everyone was excited when they thought Katie and I were expecting. Then Damion and Amelia…and now all those…baby dreams, aspirations to expand the family, are falling on us. They come—all of them come from different generations. Their mindsets…children come after marriage. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," she whispered, calming down some. "Things just got crazy out there."

I smiled, nuzzling my nose to her jaw. "They're insane. Keep that in mind whenever they start talking."

She giggled but frowned again just as fast. "Don't go out tonight. We'll have dessert and send everyone home. We can watch a movie, hang out, just you and me." She grabbed my collar. "Please, don't go out. Please. You say you're not doing coke anymore—"

"Maggie…" The word itself was threatening to push me over the edge—the fact that she wouldn't let it go.

"You don't have to work tonight, so . . . you don't _have to_ go out. Don't be . . . Don't put yourself in that atmosphere. Stay with me. Be with me. We can make love as many times as you want, watch a movie. We can do whatever you want." She was a blubbering mess.

I squeezed her tighter, rocking her until she quieted, calmed down.

"Just stay with me," she whispered.

"It's a party for my grandfather…I have to show my face." I wiped under her eyes.

She wiggled out of my embrace. "Fine."

"Baby, come here." I reached for her hand.

"No…let's just get this over with." She left the bathroom.

"You're just going to walk away?" I called out to her. "You're not letting me finish."

She whipped around. "What's the point? You'll be home early? We'll hang out at three a.m., or you'll nudge me awake with your dick?" Her voice was loud. "Oh, no. To do that, you'd actually have to wanna fuck your wife! Some white powder is more important."

"Get over here." I pointed to the ground.

Maggie gave me the finger.

I clamped my eyes closed, hoping to keep my feet where they were, but that didn't happen. In three long strides, I caught up to her, and then pulled her back into the bathroom. "Again…what is this?" I held her jaw, making her look at me. "Why are you hell-bent on embarrassing me? Embarrassing yourself?"

"'Cause I can't help you by myself…and I can't tell anyone," she cried. "And you won't—"

Angry, I pushed her back into the wall. "Shut your fucking mouth about that shit already."

"Let go…I'll scream."

I chuckled. "You're my wife. Mine. Or do you not understand what that entails just yet?"

She hit my shoulders while I tried to catch her hands, but then she slapped my cheek—really fucking hard. Believe it or not, I no longer saw red. She smacked some sense into me.

"Why did you do this to me?" she wailed.

"Calm the fuck down—"

"Why? Answer me, dammit! Why?" She pulled her rings off. "Everything was wonderful until you gave me these." She threw them. "I never see you, which is perfect. It makes hating you that much easier!"

"Hate me?" I asked.

She turned for the door.

I kept it closed, leaning my back against it. "You want out?" Wounded, gutted, heated to high heaven, I needed to keep myself together. "You want your wings? Want me to show you the door—what?"

She shook her head, crying and staring up to the ceiling.

"Maggie…open your mouth. Fucking say it." I gave her a little push to grab her attention.

She blew out a breath, keeping her head low but looking right at me. The gleam in her eyes was one I'd never seen before. Studying her face, I saw something—something different. Whatever innocence she had, it was gone. Her eyes showed me just how much she'd grown up the past four months.

"You'd never let me go." Her voice was raspy and emotional, yet tears no longer fell.

I nodded because she was correct.

No matter how much I loved her, no matter how much I yearned to make her happy, I'd never—not in a million years—grant her a divorce or let her leave me. That wasn't an option, not with how much I loved her, not with how much I needed her.

But then I thought about that . . . that I'd keep her, be semi-content having her with me even if she was miserable.

"What's going on, Maggie? What's happening to us?" I stepped around her to grab her rings from the floor. "I thought we had a good thing—" I studied the diamond "—a couple of rough weeks go by, and you're ready to throw it all away. I'm trying not to lose my temper. I'm trying to be understanding, but these tantrums…I want a child—I want to have one _with_ you. I didn't marry you so I could be a father to you."

"You're turning this around on me again—making everything my fault." She cried into her hands.

"Hey…"

"You all do that. Maybe I'm immature…but I'm eighteen, Santino. Honestly…what did you expect? I fell in love with you...You said we'd be happy, that we'd stay the same. I trusted you...I believed you, and I feel so stupid."

"You're not stupid," I whispered.

"And getting angry, throwing tantrums is the only way to get your attention." She was correct again. I don't listen unless she makes a stink. "And imagine living in fear because—"

"Fear? You fear me?"

"When you're on that stuff, I can't say anything. You might kill me."

"You're exaggerating," I said.

"I don't think I am." Her lip quivered.

"Well, that doesn't matter anymore. Maggie, I'm done with that. You hate it; I'm not doing it anymore. You may not believe me. You may not understand the whole…thing, and that's what scares you. You fear the worst, exaggerating, thinking I need help . . . But I'd use when I had to, to stay awake, to function sometimes. It's not a habit, nor am I some junkie. It's recreational at best . . . You have my word, and if that's not good enough now . . . Give me time. I'll prove it to you. You'll see." I blew out a breath.

"I'm not even gonna be supplying fuckers anymore—selling it. I spoke to my father . . . He hated that I was doing that in the first place, but…it'd make us a lot of money. I'm done, though. The whole operation is over, and that's—that whole mess is one less thing I gotta worry about." It actually felt like a relief—telling her all that, letting go of it all.

"You promise? You swear? 'Cause…I mean, you could die. Your heart could—"

"Baby…" I swallowed down my own tears. "My heart is fine…as long we're together, my heart'll be fine. I am so sorry."

"I know you are." Her face crumbled.

"You can do the honors—flush it down the toilet."

She nodded. "Good."

"Just give me some more time to sort a few other things out. Soon, I'll be all yours again. You can still trust me. I'm yours." I went to pull her in for a hug, but she didn't budge.

"You do think I'm stupid."

"No way." I spat.

"Last night—well, it was early this morning—I tried talking to you…You always said if I heard something fishy to bring it up. You told me I was dumb and to go back to sleep."

I honestly had no recollection of what she was speaking of. "What? I was exhausted—was probably half-asleep." Or high, I thought. "Talk to me now." I yanked her hand, feeling as though I might crumble, cry—beg her to stay with me and be happy with me.

"This woman called my phone looking for you—said you weren't answering, that you were supposed to meet her at two and you never showed." She shrugged. "You said there was no woman, and that I was stupid, that I should go back to sleep."

"What woman?" I asked.

"You tell me…but I'm stupid." She started crying again.

"You're not stupid…I probably meant the concept was dumb or something. There's no other woman . . ." I pushed my hair back. "Go get me your phone."

"The number was blocked—doesn't matter."

"Do you trust me?" I asked. "'Cause there's no one else."

She nodded. "I do . . ."

"Good." I grabbed her hand. "Can I put these back on?" I was referring to her rings.

She sniffled, nodding.

I sighed, gazing into those watery eyes. "I'll stay home tonight, or I'll go for an hour, and then come home."

She smiled. "You mean it? This house is big and I get so lonely, and…"

"I promise," I said. "And…I'll call AT&T, my friend there. I wanna know who called you."

"Okay."

I touched her chin, lifting her head. "I love you…and you drive me crazy," I laughed, which made her giggle-snort.

"I love you, too, and you can always nudge me awake . . . it's when you don't—'cause you haven't." She was talking about the sex thing.

I hummed, pulling her against me.

"I'm sorry for being a brat; I guess you spoiled me."

I grinned. "I can't wait…I can't fucking wait to spoil you rotten again—with love, affection . . . the cock."

"I'm yours, too." She wrapped her arms around my neck, and that was an invitation to claim what's already mine. "Do I always have to initiate?" She kissed me gently, softly nibbling my bottom lip. "You still want me, right? Or, do you think like them—sex is pointless since I can't get pregnant?"

"Now, that…that's the dumbest shit you've ever said." I was standing at a precipice, afraid I'd fall and be lost forever. When she starts talking like she is now, sending me those vibes . . . and my head was cloudy again, my body alive with excitement. Fuck. Maybe if Maggie rolled with me, I wouldn't need the coke. She gets me higher than a motherfucker.

"I crave you—I always want you, and you're never home," she whispered. "Things have changed since we moved in here, and I'd rather be back in the apartment…where things between us were amazing."

I cleared my throat. "It's not the house. It's paid for. I'm not working to…to pay for it. Besides, it was a gift…You were patient with me after that shit went down with Katie, and I have no right to ask…but I need more—I need more time to set some things right."

"I'm not going anywhere."

I nodded, but I didn't want to seem arrogant and confirm—since I already knew that. "You can do things, too." My hands roamed down the outside of her thighs. "You were going to get back into volunteering, feeding the bums or whatever, host a Girl Scout Troop."

"You told me not to—you said it was best I stay low-key because of the F.B.I., you want me out of sight." She stepped closer. "The only places I go are school, your parents', and the supermarket with your mom. Or Kylie and Ed come over." She grimaced. "They drive me crazy when they're together. They come over and they don't leave, and I feel horrible because I'd rather be lonely, but don't tell Kylie I said that. If it was _just_ Kylie…"

"I won't tell her, but I'll tell my grandfather to get a hobby," I laughed. "But things are looking up. You don't have to hide anymore." Since the Feds haven't haunted anyone but my father—and that was the last interference—I figured we were in the clear.

"You did such a good job with this place, though." I was proud of her. Even if she felt like a prisoner here for the last few weeks, she turned this house into a home—my dream home—although I haven't been around to see it through or enjoy it.

"Thank you . . . I was thinking about taking cooking lessons."

I sucked my teeth. "Fuck that. Do something you think is fun."

She grinned. "Cooking and making a mess is fun. So far, it's all trial and error, and your grandfather and Kylie are my taste testers."

I furrowed my brow, disappointment setting in, 'cause that did sound fun, wishing I was around more often. "We need to talk more. It doesn't matter what time…I wanna know what you're into, what's going on, and how you're feeling. You only seem to tell me what you think I should know…I'm jealous. They get to cook and eat with you…"

I hung my head in shame. I hated the way things were. I was jealous of those Maggie shared her time with, and . . . I felt guilty. Maggie deserved someone better than me—someone smarter, someone more considerate, just someone better.

"Don't look down." Maggie lifted my chin, and I loved her even more for doing that.

"I love you." I squeezed her, wishing I could crawl inside her—be that close—consume her, wishing she fit in my pocket. "The world can be shit but you and me—we need to be okay."

"The baby thing—"

I shook my head, stopping her. "You realize—that when it's you and me talking—_you_ always bring that up. I'm not pressuring you whatsoever."

"I'm scared and on the fence." She had tears in her eyes again. "I want one." My heart stopped for a second. "I think about the rooms upstairs…getting fat, which actually doesn't upset me—"

"That'd just—there'd be more of you to love." I blurted, licking my lips, sun filling my gray skies.

"Right…I think about deferring for a year…You said we could get a nanny, but I doubt your mother would let us," she giggled. "I mean, am I crazy for thinking of those things? That's why I get angry, 'cause I'm scared. I want it, and the more people push it—the idea—I don't know. Then . . ." She stared into my eyes. "You say you're done with that stuff—"

"I am…please trust me."

"I hate that I doubt myself, and I'm so unsure," she whispered.

"You're confused, and the more people push, the more confused you get. I understand." I nodded. "That's okay. But like I said before, I'd be behind you every step of the way. Besides, what we do—what you decide—is no one's business. We're set. I worked my ass off, and…baby, we're golden financially. It's not like I'm making you go to college and then eventually support us. But regardless of what you do, you have to be sure—want what you want—or else you'll regret it."

"We'd do it together…?"

I nodded. "Together . . . but even if I'm older, we're both still young." A selfish part of me wanted my wife to myself for a little while longer before I'd have to share. "I'm content just knowing that someday we'll have a kid . . . We've made our own rules so far."

"Yeah, I don't think we should talk about it anymore, not for a little while." She shook her head. "We worry about things we don't have to. The baby issue really isn't an issue since we both agree. If everyone could just keep their noses out of our business—"

"Pipe dream," I sighed. "You're one of us now."

"I like being one of youse."

I beamed, swaying us. "You make me so happy. Don't change—bitch me out, throw tantrums, yell at me—that's you, and I don't want you changing." She challenges me in ways . . . that are rewarding and refreshing.

"We've both done some changing." She blew out a breath. "We've been in here forever."

I blinked, stopped moving, remembering our families were here.

"I should go serve dessert." She turned in my arms.

I didn't want her leaving yet. "I still have to go out."

She nodded. "I know…but you'll be home early."

"I will." I kissed her neck.

She squealed, pulling away. "You make me tingle."

"Yeah? Can I make you come?" My hand spanned her stomach, trailing down. She had needs—ones I've been neglecting for too long.

"Not now…" Her body told me differently, melting back against me.

"Real quick," I whispered.

"Quick." She reached to rub me over my slacks.

I turned her around to claim her mouth, my hands fumbling to push her panties down.

Maggie moaned into my mouth, undoing my pants.

I stopped her. "No…" I dropped down to my knees.

My wife panted, reaching up to hold the towel rack. "Oh God, yes!"

"Shhhh." I pulled her thong down, enjoying the softness of her thighs.

"Just—" She yanked my hair, practically pushing my head into her pussy, and I went with it—fucking thrilled, diving in under her dress and bring her leg over my shoulder. "Yes." With no finesse, she rubbed herself into my face.

I groaned, about to suffocate, lapping the tangy sweetness of her arousal, nibbling her clit. When I felt her thighs start to shake, I kept at it—munching that clit—which made her stiffen, her thighs clamping my head, and that was the fastest—ever—orgasm I'd seen my wife have. It was almost instantaneous.

My hands stayed on her waist to keep her steady, my head coming up from under her dress—welcoming the cool air.

"Thank you." She dropped to her knees, mewling and sticking her tongue down my throat. "I love that more than anything else you do. So, if you could do that a few times a week—"

I laughed my ass off, resting my forehead to hers. "You could have said that a long time ago."

"A long time ago, that never needed to be said."

"Touché." I wiped my mouth and chin.

My wife was still shaky as she reached for a washcloth.

"Don't—I'm good." I loved having her scent on me.

She paused, staring down to me. "I don't wanna go back out there."

"Tough." I grabbed her panties, holding them out for her to step into them.

She placed her hands on mine, staring into my eyes. "You could give me the world…I know you could, but all I want is you."

I felt like the biggest pussy in the world—that after rocking that shit, after eating her out, and giving her that orgasm—she says some shit like that. "What?" I bit my quivering lip, refusing to cry, surprised she elicited such emotions at the present time.

"I don't care where we live, or what you do for money—I don't care about anything when I think—know I should." She nodded. "As long as I'd have you, I'd have everything I need." She wiped under my eyes. "Don't cry." She started up again. "I'm sorry for being a brat, but when all I want is you…I don't wanna share you with other people or . . . you know."

I chuckled through my tears, pulling her into my arms.

**_/=/=/=/=/_**

_**L**_eaving the bathroom was a mind-fuck and a half. My mother and Alex had made coffee, served dessert, and the scene in the dining room was peaceful. I just wished I was still in the bathroom—high off my wife. Sitting with my family and knowing I'd be leaving soon killed that buzz.

Yet, as our family continued to speak—not about anything heavy—my mind wandered, wondering who called my wife's phone. One person came to mind. It was a feeling, a gut instinct that told me it was Layla. But wouldn't Maggie know her voice? Katie wouldn't call, and Maggie would recognize her voice, too.

"It's almost eight." Grandpa pointed to his watch.

I sighed, giving Maggie's hand a squeeze and looking to her father. "We're having a Welcome Home party—"

"I don't think it's his thing," Dad said, giving me a wary look. "Not your scene. No offense."

"None taken," Robert said.

"We'll be here…playing cards, watching movies." Alex smiled at Kathy, stirring her coffee. "You're more than welcome to stay—"

"Oh, well, thank you. But we really should be going." Kathy stood from her chair, and everyone bid their farewells.

"Right." Maggie rose, too. "I'll walk you guys out."

I went with them, helping Mrs. Sullivan into her coat. "Thank you for coming."

"Dinner was lovely." Kathy's gaze fell on Maggie, and I'd never met a colder woman in my entire life. "Will I see you in church tomorrow morning?"

Maggie nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"You'll be accompanying her." Robert looked to me, and it wasn't a question. "Maybe a nightclub isn't my thing, but we could have pints during the week."

I shook his hand. "I look forward to it," I lied, 'cause chillin' with Mr. Sullivan is as enjoyable as a root canal.

Neither kissed or embraced Maggie before they trailed down the walkway. We watched them leave—me, with immense relief. To my surprise, my wife didn't look upset, though.

"If my dad did what you did in the bathroom every once in a while—to my mother—I think they'd be happier."

I smiled, kissing her hair. "Possibly."

"I wonder if she's ever had an orgasm."

"Ask her," I said, closing the door.

"Are you crazy?" She snorted, going back into the dining room. "If it wasn't for me—proof that she's gotten laid—I bet she'd say she was a virgin."

"Who's a virgin?" Kylie caught that.

Maggie didn't elaborate, taking her previous chair.

"We should head out," Grandpa said.

My father and Carlisle agreed, eyes falling on me, as the women started to clean up and speak amongst themselves.

"But why can't I go?" Kylie asked.

"Because I said so," Dad answered.

"Come on. We'll have a good time." Mom hugged her.

Kylie rolled her eyes. "I'm sure we'll have a wild time."

Little did she know, I bet they would. My mother, Alex, wine, Kylie, Maggie, more wine—I bet they have a better time than we will. They'll goof around and play cards. Maggie's told me about what they do, and all conversations come full circle—back to sex. They dish and gossip, although my wife won't share what's been said the morning after.

"Have fun," I told Maggie.

"You, too—not too much, though." She got on her toes to peck my lips.

"I'll be home—"

"Have fun," she whispered. "Don't work, just relax with your dad and stuff." She shrugged. "I don't want you to feel you have a leash." That didn't really sound like her, but it sounded like something my mother or Alex would say.

I nodded. "Text me."

"As long as you're home before she wakes up in the morning, you're good." Grandpa patted my back, but Maggie heard all that. "I'll keep an eye on him." He winked, pulling me away. "Can we leave already?"

"Shut up," Dad spat, kissing up on Mom. "What the fuck?"

"Go." Mom pushed Dad out the door.

From there, we all filed out to the limo that'd been waiting. I waved at Maggie as I left, not wanting to leave but succumbing to the inevitable.

"Everything's good?" Dad asked once we were seated in the car.

"I need to slow down—" I blurted "—just a little. All this stuff on my plate…I know I made my bed—"

"I'm selling Twilight—putting it on the market." My father unbuttoned his coat. "It's more a hassle than it should be, and it's hot—marked. Feds were running in and out of there. Who the fuck knows?"

"It's a smart move." Carlisle nodded.

"Besides Twilight—" I started again, really and truly just asking for some help. "I need—"

"Can we not talk shop this evening?" My grandfather interrupted. "Have any of you spoken to Damion? Is he coming tonight?"

"No," Dad sighed. "He sent me a text—he's studying."

"Bullshit!" Grandpa turned, knocking on the glass partition. "Take us to NYU."

"Dad, leave the kid alone. Chillin' at Eclipse isn't his thing, and I don't want him getting mixed—"

"What are you talking about?" Senior shouted at Junior. "Music, drinks, beautiful women—he's not a fanook, is he?"

I chuckled where I sat. "He's not."

"And where's that fruit, Anthony?" Grandpa dug his cell phone out. "If youse won't invite them, I will. I'm not prejudice—"

"Fruit?" Carlisle asked.

"I'm old, not fucking blind, but Ant can chill too." Grandpa nodded. "Didn't he suck off Andino's kid at Eclipse? Fucking tits and pussy galore, and Ant sucks a dick—"

"Enough!" Dad hollered. "There's shit we just don't talk about. All right?"

I palmed my face.

"Regardless . . . I want all my boys there tonight. You, call Anthony." He pointed to my uncle. "You…well, we can all run up and grab Dame. You, too." Now he kicked at Carlisle. "I don't give a fuck—put all petty bullshit aside." I guess someone briefed my grandfather on all the fuckery.

Carlisle nodded, turning to my father. "He's right. Maybe if I . . . show an effort, maybe Dame and Ant can get back to normal."

Dad patted his back. "Sounds good. I just . . . Dame's doing well, taking care of himself, studying, just being him. I'd hate to drag him away."

I nudged my grandfather. "There's a lot of shit we don't discuss openly." I'd hate for him to air personal family issues while we're at the club or something. He still has his wits, but he's so far removed from everything now.

"Like…your gay cousin, your lunatic brother, and the fact that you married a baby?" he asked.

"Oh!" Dad shouted. "Cool it."

Grandpa put his palms up, sitting back. "There's some shit I could say to you, too."

"And those who live in glass whorehouses shouldn't throw stones," Dad said, and his meaning was lost on me. "You, with the hookers and…" He grimaced, and I understood.

"I'm rollin' with you tonight. I'm not paying for shit," Grandpa sighed. "Women flock when the Skip's around, but you can't be bothered. I'll reap the benefits. They can come to me!" He clapped.

Carlisle started laughing. "Vicki was younger than Maggie when you brought her home—to raise us."

"Word." Dad nodded. "Then you shipped me off to Nanny's…"

"We going to drag up the past?" Grandpa asked. "I made mistakes, but you all turned out just fine. Before you judge my parenting—"

"What parenting?" Carlisle chuckled but composed himself. "You better not get on Ant's ass tonight—"

"You need to watch others getting on his ass," Grandpa laughed.

Carlisle gritted his teeth. "I mean it. We'll have problems. For whatever reason, he respects and loves you—"

"I love him, too." Grandpa spat. "I love youse all. I bust balls, speak of the things we usually don't to ease the tension. If it's all out in the open, there's no awkwardness."

"Look, we're having the party. There'll be women, drinks flowing, all your old friends, and some new ones. Just relax. Have fun—"

"Be seen and not heard?" Grandpa stared at Dad.

"Basically," I said.

Grandpa reached into his pocket, taking out a prescription bottle. "I went for a ride with the kid Gino the other day . . ." He poured the pills into his palm. "Now, which ones are the ecstasy and which are the Viagra?"

We all turned to my grandfather, staring blankly as the car pulled up to the curb. We were at Alumni Hall, Dame's dorm.

Carlisle sucked his teeth. "Give me that." There was a struggle as my uncle forcibly stole the all the pills from Grandpa.

Dad and I left them to it, getting out of the limo, and walking up to Dame's room.

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts. **_

_**Damion is up next! **_


	35. Drama at Twilight

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**MONSTER chapter. Get a comfy chair :-)**

**HUGE thank you to everyone who's still with me! Thanks for your reviews, your encouraging words. They inspire me and keep me going!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Drama at Twilight**

**Damion POV**

_**S**_ince I put too much garlic on my pizza, I was quick to brush my teeth after eating. It was close to bedtime anyway, almost nine o'clock. I've been getting a lot of rest lately, which has helped with my overall academic performance.

After taking a piss and washing my hands, I went back to my room. Ethan was out for the night, spending it with Melinda, and Jordan looked cozy . . . reading on my bed.

I jumped—overeager for snuggling, cuddling, and sleeping—into that same bed wearing a smile.

Jordan giggled. "What are you so happy about?"

I sighed, pulling her back against my chest. "Having you here."

"Stop…don't get all romantic on me."

"It's true." And it was. "I just like spending time with you."

"Me, too." She faced me, turning on to her stomach. "Tell me more about your parents. Was it really love at first sight?"

"I think so."

Before I'd gone into the bathroom, I was telling her about my parents' marriage—how they've been so in love for almost thirty years. She thought it magical, and I had to agree.

"What about your family? You know all about mine—not much to tell." She stuck out her tongue.

I tried to grab it, which made her fall back, laughing.

Ever since my father called me earlier, Jordan has been asking questions. It piqued her interest, and we don't really speak about our outside lives at all. I was surprised she cared. She's the one who's been pushing this…friends with benefits dynamic.

Dad has called me before while Jordan has been around. She just never cared, never asked questions, but she's been acting differently…wanting to get closer, and I dug it.

To my surprise, though, it's working for me—having no commitment, just having fun.

She's amazing to be around. If we're not at work, we're laughing and having a good time.

Jordan's cool, very easygoing.

If I just need to nod out, I don't have to entertain her; we don't _have to_ fuck, and just cuddling is fine.

There's no fucking drama . . .

I'm content, however, I want more, and I don't want to push it—create drama when it's unnecessary.

"What about them?" I asked.

"What does your father do?"

I laughed.

"What's funny?" She smiled, too.

"Nothing. He—he used to practice law, but…it wasn't his thing. He manages a club—has two clubs, actually; they're nightclubs. And he's a silent partner in a few other establishments."

"And your mom?" She let her ponytail loose.

I combed her hair with my fingers. "She's a homemaker, a mom."

"A mom?" she laughed. "That's all she is? What are they like? What was your childhood like?"

"Like…a normal childhood, I guess."

"Are you any relation to those other Cullens?" She lowered her voice. "Those mob people?"

I swore my heart stopped for a second. "Who?"

"Even in Omaha, it'd be on the news…Every few years, there'd be something about the New York mafia people. I never knew the name, though. But it was in the paper a few weeks back." She nodded. "I don't remember the name. Some guy—weird name, or whatever. He was found dead or something." She shrugged.

"No." My stomach tied in knots. "You thought I was related to them?" Forcing a chuckle, I shook my head.

"Well, seeing the name Cullen, I thought I'd ask—was just curious, didn't mean to offend. I meant to ask you a while ago, but it wasn't important." She rested back against me.

"What'd this article say?" I gently twirled her hair around my fingers.

"Um, it was about the guy who died—went into how some father and son team are running things now. They had pictures and everything."

I stiffened, since everyone says I resemble my father . . . "Yeah? What are they like…these fat, greasy Italian guys?" I chuckled. "Just because I'm from New York, and I'm Italian—"

_And my last name is Cullen,_ I thought.

"No, no…I'm not insinuating anything. They were fit, but they weren't great shots. I dunno."

"I don't read newspapers or watch the news."

"Okay." She paused, a smirk appearing. "Tell me something no one knows—a secret." Jordan poked my side.

"A secret?" I grinned, knowing I had loads, yet racking my brain for one I could share. "Well," I leaned farther into her, "I love watching you sleep—"

"What?" she laughed.

"And sometimes…the drool on your pillow, it's not always yours...It's mine." I winked. "I'm absolutely mad for you—obsessed." I started to tickle her sides, and she screamed—wiggling around.

And it was only a half-lie, as I was crazy about her, but I hadn't fallen headfirst.

"Cullen, stop!" she giggled, playfully swatting at me. "Seriously. Give me something."

I shrugged. "You keep telling me that you…want this to be casual. You don't do small talk…although I enjoyed learning more about you—your family." They seemed like normal middle-America people, farmers—whatever. Hearing about their farm—all the work it takes to run it—was very interesting. "I don't share because I don't think you care to know."

"I do care…nowadays." She sat up and back on her calves. "But I said that because…"

"Because?" I bent low to meet her gaze. "Tell me." I landed a loud smooch on those sad lips. Unfortunately, it didn't work—she didn't smile. "Jordan…?"

"I'm afraid of us getting close…I mean, at first I was afraid of being so busy with school and adding more to my plate—it might pull me away from my goals. I didn't want any distractions, but…"

"But?" I tickled her again, however, she didn't laugh—just moved away from me.

"Cullen, being with you…we study, we spend all this time together, and I haven't gotten sick of you—not that I would. You know how it is—seeing someone at work, here at the dorms, eating every meal together. Being with you is my new favorite thing."

"Come here." I pulled her into my arms again. "I agree—with everything you just said, I agree 100%."

"I think you'll inevitably hurt me—break my heart." She looked down, pursing her lips.

I grabbed her chin, so I could continue looking into her eyes. "I'm no fortune teller. We're having fun—I'm having a blast." I smiled. "But…hurting you…if I _ever_ do, it'd _never_ be my intention. Shit happens, though. I dunno." I shrugged, wondering if that was the correct thing to say. To say I'd never hurt her . . . with my track record, I wasn't sure of a fucking thing.

But . . . hurting her . . . I'd never set out to do it.

She waved a hand. "Us being Sappy-McSappersons is a buzz kill." She snorted. "But thank you for saying that." She licked my cheek 'cause she's a nut. Then again, so am I. "I already said too much . . . You spill something—nothing heavy."

I nodded. "Okay…When I was a little kid, I used to play with my mother's makeup, try on all her shoes. If I had the body, one like yours—" I made a honking noise, grabbing her boobs "—I would have probably tried on her clothes."

She sucked her teeth. "Yeah, right."

I showed her my palms. "It's true."

"Oh." She chuckled. "Wow."

"I was…quirky, I guess." Thinking back, I still have no clue as to what my fascination was with that—my mother, her clothes. "I think it was because of all the colors. She had sparkly, shiny dresses, and glittery makeup. I was a weird kid. My cousin Anthony and I—" my face fell, thinking of him; I missed the fuck out of him, knew he'd adore Jordan "—they used to call us the knucklehead twins."

"Do you have any pictures?"

"In my phone," I said, not wanting to leave the bed and get it. "We actually look alike. Not so much now, but when we were kids, people thought we were twins—brothers, despite the height difference. Actually, my real brother—we don't look that much alike; he looks like my mom, but Ant…Geez. We used to do the oddest things…" I looked back to Jordan. "I used to love to draw, too, and the shit I'd draw." Throwing my head back and laughing, I wondered if my parents kept any of them—my pictures. "I still doodle...on just about everything."

"I know. I've scoped the napkins, the side notes in charts, the Post-its that fall out of your lab coat." Jordan beamed at me. "It's cute . . . but if you secretly wear dresses now—"

"Fuck, no." I spat.

"Then, we're cool."

I laughed, shaking my head. "How 'bout you? Any skeletons I should know about?"

She winced, looking up to the ceiling.

Leaning back, I studied her, coming to my own conclusion. "Go on. Tell me some hot lesbian story."

She gasped. "How'd you know? And it's…it was just a kiss, whatever."

"Most broads have some girl-on-girl secret," I said. "It's not surprising."

She frowned. "You figured me out . . . I've got nothing else. Oh! One time, my friends and I went cow tipping—"

"People really do that?" I asked, only ever hearing about that shit in movies.

She nodded. "In the country, there's not much to do. Anyway, I sprained my ankle running away from this guy with a shotgun. We never tipped the cow."

I waited for her to say more. "Well . . . tell me about that kiss anyway." I'd still enjoy the story.

"Perv." She bopped me with a pillow.

I pecked her cheek. "Yes, I am a perv." My gaze fell to her tits. "You should take off your shirt before you tell me. It'll help with the visual."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'll strip right now—tell you a hot story, if you wear my panties while you listen."

"Oh!" I jumped back, 'cause that was a wicked plan. "We can do that."

The both of us started to crack up. "You'd really wear my underwear?"

"If it kept you outta them? I'd wear 'em on my fuckin' head." I snorted.

She sighed, biting her lower lip. "You just got all . . ."

"All what?"

"Guido." She stared at me. "I don't know . . . You have this…rough side to you?"

I hummed, hoping Jordan would start to undress soon. "Do you think I'm sexy?"

She nodded, reaching to take off my glasses. "You're amazingly handsome, sexy, and your hair…" Her fingers wove into it, pushing it back. "You're perfect."

"I'm far from—"

Jordan placed her hand over my mouth. "You're perfectly Cullen."

I smiled, chuckling. "Right." It came out muffled, and then my cell phone rang from my jeans' pocket. We both looked to the floor, where my pants were.

"You're not going to get it? Do you think it's Amelia again?"

I shook my head, not giving a fuck.

"It could be your dad. He calls you a lot." She stared at me. "You just don't wanna get up—lazy." She went to grab my pants.

I yanked her arm, yanked her back to me. Whoever it was, they'd leave a message, and I'd call back. "I'm still waiting for you to undress and tell your story." That was more important.

She giggled again, leaving the bed, and I let her. "I was fifteen—" she tore off her shirt, twirling it and throwing it at me; I smacked it away "—it was the summer." She went for her sweats, pulling them down and stepping out.

Jordan looked sexy as sin, in her pink polka dot panties and white bra, her hair wild and flowing down her shoulders. Her thighs were thick, her breasts nearly toppling out already as she reached back to get the clasp.

I tossed my own t-shirt across the room.

"Um…" Her bra fell to the floor, but she crossed her arms, covering those puppies.

"What's up?"

"I'm not saying any more until you put these on." She shimmied out of her panties.

I blew out a breath, going over to the door—making sure it was double-locked.

_Shit happens. _

Ethan could decide to come back. I mean, walking in on us fucking is one thing, but somebody seeing me in panties?

_Never going to happen._

"Here you go." She held them out. "Wait, allow me." Her chest touched my own as she pushed my boxers down. "Oh, my, my, my . . . Are we excited?"

I looked to my hard cock. "Yup . . . What'chu gonna do about it?"

She raised a brow, licking her lips. "You did diagnose that kid with appendicitis—"

"I did." I nodded.

"—_before_ he puked on you."

"Oh, yes. Talk dirty, baby." I pushed her hair away from her shoulder, so I could get the whole visual. She was naked before me, and it took all the willpower in the world not to—

"A man like you…" She walked around, circling me, running her hand down my back. "Brains, brawn, and hot as hell." She nipped my earlobe, her hand snaking around to my waist. "A blow job?" Jordan grabbed my dick.

I groaned, leaning back against her. "No…"

"No?" She sounded surprised, jacked me faster.

I smacked her hand away and turned around. "No."

She grinned, stepping back. "Put them on."

I took her panties and threw them across the room as I advanced toward her. "Get on the bed." I went in for the attack.

She squealed, running—hopping onto the bed and getting under the blanket.

To be a dick, and because I wanted to see her, I yanked the covers away. "Lie back."

She crinkled her brows, sitting up. "You, get in here and lie back." She pulled me onto the bed. I went with it, getting comfortable as she straddled me, her humongous tits in my face.

I hissed, palming them, pinching and pulling her nipples.

"Fuck." She tossed her head back. "Your touch—how rough you fucking pull on 'em. Drives me wild." She sounded like me for a second there.

"Oh, yeah?" I sat up, biting one while my fingers tweaked the other, her squirming on top of me.

"Get a condom," she whined. "Now."

I let out a shaky breath, trying not to jostle her as I nabbed one from my nightstand. She was perfect right where she was. I didn't want her to move. She'd never ridden my cock before, and I couldn't wait.

Speaking of, I've recently become a pro at putting rubbers on.

Trust me; I'm more than careful these days, and I think it's about time a Cullen learned to use one.

Sadly, I know how the men in my family think. Condoms are useful when it comes to having promiscuous sex—sex with whores, loose women. When it comes to the women they love, pregnancy, having a child is a gift, and they won't hinder that. It's ignorance and old school-style thinking, but even Sonny has that mindset.

I don't want a "Oops, I'm having your baby" moment, or a "Oh my God, I have the clap" nightmare.

Once it was on, I just waited—holding my breath, excited as fuck. "Come here," I whispered.

She smiled, bending low, her hair curtaining her face. Our mouths met; I palmed her cheek, kissing her deeply, our tongues tangling, our bodies rocking against each other. "You're wonderful," she whispered.

I swallowed, shaking my head.

This was a new side to Jordan. The past few days, she's been opening up—and I didn't know what was up or down anymore. What were we?

The way I see it, we're both vulnerable in the same and yet different ways—neither of us wanting to get hurt.

"You were like a rock star today in the emergency room." She leaned away, grasping me, aligning us.

I moaned when she let her weight drop, my cock entering her. "Fuck me." She felt too good.

"Uh-huh," she sighed, picking up a rhythm. "You in a scrub cap..." She took my hands, bringing them above my head, going faster. "You think quick. You never get nervous—" Little did she know, although I never have to think twice about things while I'm at work. "You never hesitate to jump into action…you're so smart." She whimpered, grinding into me.

"You…" That's all I could say, panting for air, in awe of her—in awe of how much she loved the cock, my cock. "Let go of my hands."

She obeyed, pulling back.

With my hands free, a growl fell from my lips, grasping her hips and moving her even faster. She cried out, reaching up and messing her hair, and it was the hottest fucking shit.

"Keep doing that," I said, gnawing my lip, not even breathing, and I was going to— "Stop!"

Her chest heaved, her hips halting. "What's wrong?"

I blew out a breath. "I was…"

"Oh." She nodded in understanding. "So was I . . . You suck." She slapped my chest.

I chuckled, holding her close and turning us over. My cock left her, but I'd needed the break.

Sometimes, being with Jordan is too much.

I wasn't sure if it was a mental issue or a physical thing, but . . .

I've made a new rule for myself—one she knows nothing about—Jordan has to come before I do . . .

Because when we're together, when she's naked, I get overexcited. It's like I'm a teenager again—quantity over quality when it comes to my dick.

I've been coming faster and recovering to go again a lot sooner . . .

"You're gorgeous," I whispered, running my nose along her breast, circling her nipple with my tongue before I bit down—my finger twirling around her clit. "Spread 'em."

She let her legs fall open, staring into my eyes. "I want you."

"I want _you_…" And I did, in more ways than one.

And as much as I'm trying to break away from my upbringing, trying not to be this fool who rushes in, all I want is for us to be official. But I didn't want to be that guy . . . wearing my heart on my sleeve, jumping into another relationship.

We were chill.

We were…literally…best friends who fucked.

Why couldn't I just relax and go with the flow? We're not even indefinitely exclusive; I could date others if I want to, but I don't. Although, if she started fucking someone else, I'd be incredibly disappointed—thinking _we_ had something.

And I'd probably kill that poor bastard, whoever he'd be.

_Trust._

But Jordan doesn't know about my occasional need to engage in homicidal behavior . . .

Fuck me.

My eyes clamped closed, working her pussy, thinking about her sweet-tasting pussy . . .

I couldn't think about that other garbage. I haven't thought about that shit in weeks, nor have I had that itch.

"Kiss me." Little did she know that kissing her . . . that's one of my new favorite things to do.

"Gladly." I grinned, leaning over, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her heart—my lips lingering and peppering loud kisses up her neck.

She giggled, mewling, melting into the mattress. Her face lit up, the biggest smile there. "You make sex fun. I never had that before—this much fun. It was always…boring? Never this pleasurable?"

"Happy to oblige." I smirked. "But you're the sexy one." I bopped her nose with my own, realizing how quiet I've been. All the compliments—she boosts my ego daily, fucking hourly, and I'd yet to be real with her—lay some shit out there. "You have so much natural beauty, it's almost like you're too good to be true. Bitches wearing makeup and heels, just anything to make themselves look better. But you . . . Just you, the way you are, you're so fucking pretty. And you're so intelligent, even your mind is—"

"Stop."

"No . . . You have to believe me." I nearly begged, my hand roaming down her body, and I sucked in a breath through a hiss—trying not to dig my fingers into her soft flesh.

Most of the time, the reason why I withhold the truth is because she thinks I'm lying. She's said that she finds it hard to take me seriously since I was with Amelia—someone who could easily be a model—yet she outshines Amelia by a mile. They're different. There's no comparison.

"You're confident but you're not at the same time. You're independent. You don't give a flying fuck about a lot of things." I chuckled. "Not many people can pull that off, and it's incredibly sexy. You have no idea." I groaned, needing, wanting her pussy; my fingers parting her lips to rub down the center, gently entering her, slowly pumping in and out, my thumb making circles . . .

"So fucking wet. Hmm." I heard that sexy, slippery sound—sucked her earlobe into my mouth.

"Cullen!" She dug her nails into my forearm. "Oh my God." She lifted her head to watch my hand. "Just…" Her head fell back, a loud moan getting caught in her throat.

"Wait…I don't think that came out right."

"I'm—I am soaked." She squeaked.

"No, that other shit." While I contemplated the wonders of the world, I fingered the fuck out of her, and she'd started getting mad loud. "You like that?" I went faster. "Look at my hand as it fucks you."

Her eyes widened, a look of complete ecstasy in them, her lips parted . . .

"I just meant—hmm—" I bit her nipple; it was right there "—you're so fucking amazing, perfect. You get me hard with just one fucking look." My gaze went back to her face, and she was staring at the ceiling. "Look at my hand."

She blew out a breath, staring down. "Fuck."

"Yeah...I mean, Christ. Sometimes, I think I might come in my pants…you're my little whore, my sexy bitch." My eyes widened, 'cause . . . what I said, but she didn't slap me.

"Fuck you!" She gritted out, becoming rigid, her pussy milking my fingers; she was coming. "Oh my God . . ." Her hips rose, her hands guiding my forearm, making my fingers go knuckles deep—with more force. "Shit." I watched her toes curl, her eyes roll. "Whoa." She faced me. "Just…wow."

And as I watched her climax, I'd stopped breathing again, my muscles tight—coiled, ready to spring.

"Fuck your wow. I'll show you wow." Overzealous, tired of restraining myself, I crashed my mouth to hers—my knees parting her legs, my cock finding her quickly.

This time, we both stiffened when I entered her—letting out sighs of contentment.

Then…only then, when were connected, was it okay to slow down again. But only for a second. She squirmed below, getting comfy, and I pulled her hips closer, my forehead leaning to hers.

"I get lost in you," she whispered.

"What?" I pulled back to thrust into her hard, my palms spanning her head, my elbows leaning on either side.

She cried out, shaking her head. "Nothing." Her nails clawed my shoulders.

I reveled in that pain, hitching her thigh over my hip, going deeper and faster—fucking her good, coming all the way out just to fall back in. "Tell me something." I bit her lip, sucking it back.

"Harder," she whined.

"Good." I leaned back, holding her hips, fucking her with no abandon now; it made her tits jiggle, which was hypnotizing in a way. "Who fucks you this good? Huh?" I felt like _the_ man right now, owning this pussy.

"You—Cullen!" she shouted.

"That's right. Me." I groaned, grabbing her ankle to toss her over. She got on all fours quickly, sticking her ass out.

I fucking whacked it, and then I rubbed out the sting.

"This ass." The one I wished to call my own . . .

I entered her again, my fingers digging into her hips, pulling and pushing her on and off, watching my cock disappear into her pussy.

My heart was practically beating out of my chest, my breaths shallow, a fire building in my gut, and I swore I'd hold on . . . just a little bit longer.

Logically, I should have slowed down, but I sped up instead—my hands trailing up her back to grasp her hair, and then I wrapped it around my palm, pulling her up—her back flush against my chest.

"Christ." I tried to kiss her, but I missed—slobbering on her cheek. It was cool, though. While I still had her hair, my other hand held her shoulder, 'cause I wasn't deep enough—we weren't close enough.

"Yo!"

I heard Sonny.

Confused, I stared up to the ceiling as I fucked her, wondering if I was going insane. "Did you hear that?" I panted.

"What?"

I groaned, letting go of her hair to spank her ass. I love watching it jiggle, so I did it again.

"Harder."

"Word?" I raised my hand, excited, a smile on my face as it came down with force—this loud thwack sounding in the air.

Jordan hissed, hitting back against my abs harder. She dug it, smirking at me from over her shoulder, and I was done with that look, about to lose my shit—

"Dame…?" It was Sonny again.

"Who's—who's th-that?" Jordan heard it, too.

"Fuck!" I gritted my teeth, letting go—

"Yo!" Sonny shouted. "Open up."

"Go away!" I roared, still coming, my body stiff—holding Jordan's ass as if my life depended on it, keeping us connected. "Holy fuck." I gasped for air, falling over to my side, spent, sweat soaking me.

Jordan's face was scarlet and so was her ass.

"I'm sorry." I swallowed, rubbing along those reddened spots on her behind.

She grinned. "It was fine . . . I liked it. You got all…beastly on me, Cullen."

"Cool. Beastly." I smiled, since that summed me up pretty well.

She pulled me in for a kiss, this sloppy yet perfect smooch.

"Stay like this," I whispered against her lips.

"I should get dressed," she giggled, not moving off her stomach. "Who's at the door?"

I sighed, trailing my finger over the marks I left on her bottom. "My brother." My eyes widened, realization dawning on me, as I scooted closer to kiss her ass cheeks—wanting to make it up to them, although thoroughly enjoying it—while acute fear settled in the pit of my stomach.

Jordan asked me flat out if I was any relation to those Cullens in the paper. My only hope was that they used Caius and Dad's mug shots, and there hadn't been a picture of Sonny. I hadn't seen that paper. Maybe it was Caius since he was on the one who died? My father since he's the boss?

She was right, though.

Every few years, my father's face graces the New York Times with the words "alleged", "accused", or "supposed" all before the big headline, "Mafia Don" followed by some activity.

It's usually bullshit; some small factoid hits the press, and they print it to sell papers . . . Even good things. My parents have been on Page Six plenty of times after attending charitable events.

Regardless of how he makes his money, my father is one of the wealthiest men in New York, who also schmoozes with political figures and other rich fuckers, a few celebrities—mostly rappers that think he's the shit. They become gangster by association, and Dad gets them to perform at Midnight Sun for pennies.

But what was I supposed to do? Tell Jordan to get in the closet? Hide her from Sonny? Or, hide Sonny from her?

"Cullen?"

"Hmm?" I'd rested my cheek to her ass, hugging her close yet awkwardly, not wanting to let go—face the reality of this situation.

"Someone's knocking." She looked back to me giggling. "Comfortable?"

I placed another soft kiss down before I left the bed, catching a total head rush as I did so. "Fuck." I chuckled.

"You okay?" She sat up, grabbing for her clothes.

"Damion?" It was Dad now. "We can hear you—know you're in there."

My mouth made an "O" shape as I pulled the condom from my dick. "Get dressed," I whispered.

Jordan was steps ahead of me, already had her bra on. "Where are my panties?"

I shrugged. "Take my boxers." I looked for sweats.

Jordan forgot about underwear, pulling her pants up.

"Dame...?" Dad knocked again.

My head was a cloudy fucking mess, scrambling for clothes. I put my jeans on and pulled a t-shirt over my head. Then I pulled on the fabric. It was tight, didn't feel right.

"That's my shirt," Jordan said.

I shook my head, tossing her a different one.

"That's a woman's shirt." She danced from foot to foot.

I went to unlock the door, not giving a fuck.

"Cullen, it's purple...Jesus. Pull yourself together." She scolded.

I groaned, looking down to the Hello Kitty shit I wore. "What the fuck?" I was quick to exchange t-shirts with her now. "Why'd you let me put that on?"

"Let you?" she laughed.

I didn't reply, pausing just for a second. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be sorry."

"I am sorry…know that."

"That's silly." She seemed confused, slipping her feet into her sneakers.

But . . .

In a moment, she might find out that I'd lied to her.

She might realize . . .

_I was fucked. _

Jordan's not stupid. There's no pulling wool over her eyes.

Coincidental names are one thing, but seeing my father and me side by side, and _if his_ picture was in the paper . . .

I knew she'd make the connection.

So, I lied, but I think anyone—anyone who_ was_ me, in my situation—would have lied.

However, once she makes the connection, what would she do with that information? There was a chance she'd never speak to me again. There are those who understand, think it's cool or don't care. . . There are some, however, who are just completely disgusted with my family's way of living.

_Our_ way of living, how _my_ family makes_ their_ living . . .

Criminals.

"Look—" Dad started.

"I'm here." I rushed out. "Sorry." I unlocked the door, only sticking my head out, which was a total cop-out, a pussy move. "What's up?"

Dad went to walk forward, but he stopped when he saw I wasn't budging. "You tell us."

I looked to Sonny, silently pleading with my eyes.

"You busy?" my brother asked, smirking. "Your boo-boo's in there?"

I nodded.

Dad looked me up and down. "Get dressed, and then—"

"We're clothed." I shrugged, pulling the door closed even more. "Was there something you needed?" My heart sank, asking my father that—acting like a total dick after all . . . all we'd been through the past two months. Maybe I don't see him and my family all that often anymore, but we still talk all the time.

"No…" Dad furrowed his brow, his face falling. "Uh…" He turned to Sonny.

That was when I just opened the door wide, stepping aside.

I liked Jordan. I liked her a lot, but . . .

I wasn't going to cut off my nose to spite my face.

I wasn't going to betray or disrespect my father for a woman.

Women come and go, but Edward Cullen—alleged "Mafia Don"—will always be my father.

"Come in." I stood back. "It's a mess…"

Dad walked in first and Sonny followed, grinning at me. "Heard you slappin' somethin'." He punched the air. "Good for you."

"Shut up." I couldn't help but smile, turning to Jordan, thinking this might work out okay. "This is my father and my brother—Edward and Sonny." I gestured to each. "This is Jordan."

"Hey. How ya doin', hon? It's nice to finally meet you." Dad put his hand out.

Jordan stared at him, a wide-eyed wonder, her hand limply meeting his for a shake.

_She'd made the connection. _

"Um…" I scratched my head, and what to introduce her as was another matter. "We work at the hospital together. We're both students, third years . . . She lives here, on the fifth floor. We were studying. We're colleagues and...third years?" I rambled, and I think I repeated myself, a nervous wreck.

"I know all that," Dad said, looking back to Jordan, smiling. "I've heard a lot about you...Dame speaks _very_ highly of you." He was going above and beyond being polite, actually seemed interested, his face lighting up. "Wish my wife was here. She's dying to meet you again."

"Again?" Jordan gave me a fleeting glance.

My shoulders slumped, remembering when Mom dropped me off some dinner at the hospital. I didn't tell Jordan or anyone who she was. I just introduced her as Bella. "Yeah, um, she brought me macaroni...We shared it." I felt like a total idiot.

Sonny laughed.

My head whipped to him.

He shrugged. "That sentence just sounded funny. What?"

Jordan tore her eyes away from Dad to stare at Sonny.

He waved at her.

"This Sunday, we're having a big dinner at the house. You should come with Damion." Dad was going to scare her away with the meet the family, acting like we're getting married shit—he always comes on too strong.

"Oh—"

"You're from Nebraska?" He cut her off.

"I—I—Yes, I grew up in Omaha, sir—Mr. Cullen." She was nervous, too. "Y-You talk about me?" Jordan's face was pale as she looked to me.

I nodded, stepping closer to her. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah." She slightly shook her head, staring at her feet, but then her head came up to stare at Dad. "You're Edward Cullen."

He nodded. "I am." His gaze flashed to mine.

Sonny nudged me. "What's her problem?" he whispered. "Did you guys smoke or something?"

I gulped; shit was hard to swallow.

"Uh…" Dad smirked at Jordan, who was still just fucking staring at him, and then he faced me. "Your grandfather insists you join us tonight."

"Insists," Sonny repeated. "Just come, show your face."

I shook my head, not interested at all.

"Dame, it's your grandfather's party. I can't believe you'd back out in the first place. After all, we don't know how long he'll be with us." Dad hit me with some guilt. Too bad, I didn't feel any. "At first, I didn't want you coming either," he whispered, but everyone heard him anyway. "We're all going to be there, though."

"I just…" I didn't know what to say.

"I…" Jordan stared at Sonny again. "I have to go." She turned to me.

"What?" I grabbed her hand.

This time, she wasn't looking at anyone's face; she studied some focal point.

Following her line of sight, it led me to the nine in Sonny's waist. His hand was in his pocket while his other toyed with something on my chest of drawers—Ethan's Magic 8 Ball.

"Stop touching my shit." I spat.

Sonny put both hands up, which made his jacket close, concealing his weapon.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Jordan went for the door. "It—it was—um—nice meeting you guys . . . You're tall," she told Sonny and then she booked—fucking took off with a quickness.

"She seems…nice," Dad said.

"I'll…" I didn't finish my sentence, running down the hall after Jordan. "Hey!"

She stopped, only to turn and walk backward. "You said—"

"What was I supposed to say?" I asked.

She sucked in a shaky breath. "I mean, wow . . . but I asked you."

I chuckled, albeit nervously. "You can't believe what they print in papers—"

"He's got a Wikipedia page." She pointed, keeping her tone hushed. "And they can't have that up if it's blatant slander. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

I stepped closer to her. "I thought you were different, better than this—to judge me, most of all for shit that doesn't concern me? I'm here—I go to school. I—" I felt like I was betraying everything . . . my life, my other life, my family.

"I'm not—"

"Yo, we were only fucking. How is any of that even your business?" I asked.

"_Only_ fucking…right." She stepped back.

I shrugged. "You drew that line from the first night."

"I just can't believe you'd keep that from me. I thought…"

"What they do—what they _allegedly_ do is none of your concern, and I suggest you drop it right-the-fuck now—don't bring this shit up again. Understand?"

"This was all too good to be true—"

I cut her off. "Furthermore, I can't believe I'm standing here discussing this with you—that's how much this is a nonissue—doesn't concern you." By now, I was on the defensive, shooting off at the mouth; meanwhile, I had no idea what I was saying.

"Was _everything_ you told me a lie?"

"What do you think?" Circumstances notwithstanding, she had to know me better than this; she had to look past this. "Honestly." I grinned, 'cause . . . even if we kept things casual, she possibly knew me—the real me—better than most. "You know—"

"Fuck you, Cullen. Fuck. You." Her lip quivered.

"Oh." I smiled, when I felt like I was dying inside. "Very mature of you." I had no idea where that came from.

"I was shocked," she whispered. "For the record, I didn't judge—hadn't judged you . . . until now, right now." She looked me up and down, disgust in her eyes. "I don't care what _they_ do." She shook her head.

"That's bullshit."

"How could you be so cold, so cruel—saying all those things and not meaning them?" She choked on a sob. "I believed you like some idiot. And none of that had anything to do with your family . . . What the fuck, Cullen? You sick, twisted bastard…How could you? How could you play me like that? If all you wanted was sex—"

"That's all _I_ wanted. That's all _you_ wanted," I sighed, my heart breaking. "Cruel? You're schooling me on what's cruel? You're being fucking brutal right now—I'm a sick, twisted bastard?" She was right on the fucking mark. "Listen, we should talk—not here in the hall. Sit down and really talk because…"

"I need you to know that I'm not upset about that." She pointed back to my room. "How could you have said all those things? And I believed them. I knew this was a mistake…I mean, you cheated on your girlfriend with me…How could I have thought I'd be any different…? I'm so stupid."

"You're not." I reached for her hand. "Just let me—"

"Don't." Jordan jumped back, had calmed down and was wiping her eyes. She pulled herself together for a minute. "This is drama. I said I wouldn't—couldn't do drama . . . It was only sex—"

"If it was only sex, _and you don't care_, then why are you so upset?"

"I never said I didn't care." She put her hands up, backing farther away. "Unless it concerns patient care…" Her voice was shaky; she was trying not to cry.

"I get it." I nodded, stepping away. "Don't talk to you unless…"

Her face crumbled and then she ran for the stairs.

I held my forehead, watching her go—wanting to run after her because I was pretty confused. I was so defensive…just saying anything, and I could only remember half of what was said. My mind drawing a blank, my stomach queasy, and all I could think about was her face—the sadness I saw that threatened to make me cry.

But going after her . . . What good would that do? The end result would still be the same.

If I would have told her the truth about my family . . .

No, I couldn't tell her the truth. She couldn't possibly understand that world, nor would I ask her to carry that burden—being a nobody, an outsider with that information. It's one thing to know—have the suspicion—it's a whole other thing for me to confirm it.

Jordan also didn't understand why I _couldn't_ tell her . . . why I lied. And I couldn't even explain that shit either. All of which…takes me back to the beginning.

It's not like she was my girlfriend or anything. We fucked—were best friends with benefits for a month—thirty fucking days. And thinking of that now . . . I couldn't believe a whole month had gone by. It feels like just yesterday, when I brought her back to my room for the first time.

A whole month?

Wow.

Amelia and I had been broken up an entire month—thirty days I was with Jordan, and it went by in a flash.

When I was with Julie, she knew . . . but only because her parents told her. That was back when we were juniors in high school, though. What my father did for a living never affected our relationship. If anything, Julie benefited 'cause—back then, in high school—we were attached at the hip. She got an all-expense paid trip to tour Europe with me. She'd tagged along a few times when we'd gone on vacation as a family, too.

For whatever reason, this was never an issue when I was with Julie—she and her parents didn't care, never judged.

Amelia . . . we had the same upbringing, which goes without saying.

Why did I give a fuck? Why did I care so much?

That face she made . . .

Those tears . . .

The disappointment in her eyes . . .

Christ. Imagine if she'd learned the truth about me? About my other life? The shit I'd done . . .?

But for the first time ever, I was ashamed of the role I'd played once upon a time, which wasn't _that_ long ago . . .

Don't get me wrong. Any guilt I harbored for causing trouble was aimed at my father, for placing Dad in a situation, but I never . . . like thought my soul black and empty, never felt the things I'd done were morally wrong.

Jordan would.

She'd think me evil. She wouldn't recognize me. Her learning about my misdeeds, that'd be a shock and a half.

Yet, with Jordan—the whole time we were hanging out and getting close—I felt more like Damion, the real me, than I had in years.

At first, I brushed it off as I was still playing a role—the shy med student—but then I realized I wasn't.

I was being myself.

I was comfortable in my own skin for like the first time ever.

I'd let her see me.

She saw _me_.

And now . . .

What did it all mean?

My steps were slow as I walked down the empty corridor, feeling as though I might start to weep at any moment.

As I got closer to my room, I was able to hear my father and Sonny laughing.

I plastered a small grin on my face as I turned into the room.

"Will Grandpa get laid tonight?" Sonny shook Ethan's Magic 8 Ball.

"Reply hazy, try again." Dad cackled, turning to face me—must have felt my presence. "Will Damion get his ass dressed and come out tonight?"

Sonny smiled at me, shaking the ball like maracas in the air.

They were both none the wiser, seemed happy, like nothing had just happened. Of course, the hallway is long, and they hadn't heard a word—didn't know there was a problem.

With my track record—where women are concerned—they probably just thought Jordan was weird or shy.

Dad looked down to the 8 ball. "Put on a suit and get that look off your face. You're coming." He smiled. "I like this thing."

"It doesn't say that," Sonny said.

I sat on my bed, trying like hell to act normal, whatever that is. "What does it say?" I asked. "For real?" Ethan puts so much stock into that stupid toy, asks it many things, and I always laugh at him. Yet, I'm always curious as to what the answers are.

My brother smirked, briefly flashing his perfect teeth. "Without a doubt," he said. Even his teeth were flawless, whereas I had braces for two years as a teen. "We'll have a good time tonight . . . Maybe not as much fun as you'd have with your honey, but..." His face fell for a millisecond before he grinned again, going for his cell phone that was in his pocket. "It's for Grandpa…just come chill for an hour." His thumbs moved, composing a text. "I need to get my ass home early."

Even so . . . In a suit, ready to go for the evening, Sonny looked accomplished, debonair, handsome without even trying, and I bet his life is perfect, too. He's got mad money, he's respected—feared—by some of the most gruesome, intimidating dudes here in New York. He has a brand new house, a beautiful wife, and I was . . . I had nothing.

I was still jealous of him.

It wasn't resentment. I could never hate him, not for the lucky hand God dealt him.

I used to be able to insult him in my mind and out my mouth, and I tried to believe that shit to no avail.

All that shit just wasn't true.

I love Sonny very much, and he's one of the best guys out there.

But I wished . . .

I'm sure he's paid his dues—I know he's earned everything he's gained, but why couldn't my life be simple? That easy? That awesome? It was like he had the world on a string.

Then I thought about Katie and the shit she did to him—the torture she laid on him in the past and present. But Sonny kind of bounced back from that nicely—quickly. He didn't shut down, and here I was . . .

But then he has Maggie.

If _I_ had Maggie . . .

I cringed, wanting to jump out a fucking window. No, I no longer harbored feelings for her, but why did I have to think about her again? I cared for her now. I didn't want-want her.

If I had a girl_ like_ Maggie, someone supportive, honest, and attractive . . . I thought I had Jordan, but she never truly belonged to me.

Nevertheless, I was happy for my brother, but like my sister once said…

Maybe I was a hater?

No, I didn't agree with that about myself either, because I couldn't—didn't hate Sonny at all.

He's just lucky, I guess, and . . .

Ever since I was a kid, I wanted _to be_ him—tried like hell to be just like him. He was so fucking cool, and even now . . . He's still awesome. I always looked up to him and admired him. But I_ am_ smarter than him, book smart, which counts for something, I guess.

"Where are we going again?" I asked.

Dad went for my closet. "I told you—Grandpa's party. Eclipse. Mad heads'll be there. That's another reason why I want you to come, too. Show your face. And you will be coming back to Bay Ridge with me—see your mother in the morning. What's it been, a month?"

"Right." I briefly forgot about my grandfather's shindig. "I saw Mom…" I tried to think.

"No. It's been a month, and she misses you." He was correct.

The last time I saw any of them was on New Year's Eve, except for Sonny. We met up for lunch a couple of times. Still, we hadn't done that in like two weeks. "I have school—"

"Don't worry about that," Dad said.

"You okay?" Sonny asked, gently squeezing my shoulder. "You, you know, you look…" he whispered, giving Dad a fleeting glance. "You all right?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I actually felt nauseous.

"She's pretty . . . and those tits." Sonny nodded, holding his hands out. "Bet you get lost in those things, huh?"

"Yeah." I cleared my throat.

"Thank God Grandpa didn't come up." Sonny widened his eyes, wincing. "Now that shit would'a been embarrassin'."

"'Cause you're more respectful—you waited until _after_ she left to comment about her breasts?" I raised a brow.

Sonny nodded. "Well, yeah . . . Grandpa might'a tried to a cop a feel." He snorted, busting a gut as his cell phone dinged. He read his message but smiled at me. "Good for you, Dame."

"Good for me?" I asked.

"Yeah…from talking to you this past month, what Dad has said, and you even look different—relaxed, happy. _Maybe not so much in this moment."_ He gestured to me. "You sure you're okay?"

I nodded.

"It's just one night—a couple hours." He kept his tone hushed, thinking I was upset because I had to go out with them. "Anyway, we fucking miss you like crazy, but I'm happy you're happy, dude." He hit my shoulder again. "I'm fucking…over the moon about it actually."

"Oh…Well, thank you." Needless to say, I was no longer happy—if that's what I was a half hour ago. "You think she's pretty?" I asked him, only because Julie was on the thick side, and he'd dis her any chance he got.

"Very pretty—beautiful," he said. "She's…uh, what's that word?" He nudged my father.

"I look like a mind reader? Or a fucking duhsorous?" Dad jerked his head, going through my clothes.

I laughed. "A thesaurus, Dad?"

"That's what I said…Here, wear the DKNY." Dad handed me my gray suit. "You have a blue shirt?" He turned for my closet again. "Where the fuck are all your clothes? There's nothin' in hea!"

"Home . . . I only have what I need." I was on autopilot as I got undressed to redress.

Sonny snapped his fingers. "Voluptuous—that's it."

"So was Julie." I fastened my pants, and my father tossed me a belt.

"No, Julie was sloppy—ugly." He shuddered.

"Be nice," Dad said.

"There's a difference." Sonny showed us his palms.

Dad looked to me. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." He sounded like some fortune cookie, not my father.

"I'm just saying." Sonny shook his head. "I've been with women—all shapes and sizes, bro. There's a difference from being stacked, thick, and gorgeous, and then sloppy and ugly. Besides, who the fuck am I? I'm not the one sleeping with her. Why's it matter what I think anyway?" he asked me.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"I won't lie . . . She seems weird."

"Cut it out." Dad punched Sonny's shoulder and then faced me. "She seemed like a lovely girl."

"Shit." Sonny rubbed his shoulder. "That hurt."

"Get over it." Dad flinched toward him again.

"You don't hit him." He pointed to me. "You never hit him. Fuck, you never even yell at him. And he asked my opinion. I'm being honest."

My father rolled his eyes.

"I did…weird how?" I asked.

"Why do you care what this motherfucker thinks?" My father kicked my dress shoes over.

"Oh! I'm a motherfucker now?" Sonny asked him.

Dad ignored him, waiting for me to answer.

"I dunno why," I whispered, 'cause it was true. I didn't know why I wanted to know what Sonny thought, but I knew his opinion mattered to me. Although, it didn't make a fucking difference anymore. Maybe I was looking for him to say that Jordan was ugly, since I assumed he would because of his thoughts on Julie.

Again, the two don't compare. They look nothing alike. But maybe if Sonny put Jordan down, I'd feel better?

That's bullshit.

"I mean, she looked like she wanted Dad's autograph—" Sonny shrugged "—which isn't a bad thing. She just froze. So, she was either scared or in awe, and I'm guessing she knows . . . something." He shook his head. "I don't know, but _I'd_ hit it . . . If I was single, I'd do her." He winked, giving me a thumb-up. "Now that's the Santino stamp of approval."

"Thirty years ago," Dad nodded, pursing his lips, "I'd hit it, too."

A small grin crept up on me; they made me feel better for some odd reason. I didn't know why, although my smile was bittersweet at the same time. "I, um, I can't stay out long."

"Yeah, you can," Dad said. "You're with us." He looked really happy, more than I'd seen him in a while. "My boys . . ." He gave Sonny a loud smooch, and then turned to land one on my cheek. "You look good." He fiddled with my collar. "Just…your hair's fucked, but it works. Push it back, like mine."

I did as he said, pushing my hair back. "I have pre-rounds. I—"

"Put on cologne. You smell like pussy." Sonny handed me my bottle of Curve.

"Jealous?" I spritzed some on.

Sonny tilted his head, letting out a chuckle with no humor. "Let's just go already."

I looked to Dad. "I can only stay out an hour."

"Trust me. I got you." He pulled me into his side and kissed my cheek again, and then again...and then again. "Gah. I missed ya."

That made me smile because I never thought we'd be this way. "I missed you too."

"Take the day off tomorrow."

"I can't." I turned to hug him tightly.

"What happened?" he whispered, rubbing my back. "Tell me."

"She saw the newspaper weeks back…She didn't know, but now she does." I pulled back. "She never even knew your or Mom's names…then suddenly she's overloaded with info . . . I also lied, said I wasn't related to the Cullens in the paper." I felt like shit admitting that. "I'm sorry."

"Why you sorry?" Sonny asked. "I would have lied, too."

"Yeah, well . . . now she thinks—forget it." They wouldn't understand even if I tried to explain.

Dad palmed my cheek. "Those who matter won't mind, and those who mind won't matter." But he didn't know the half of it . . .

"Where you comin' up with this garbage?" Sonny shook the 8 Ball again. "You never tell me that soothing shit—always cursing at me, barking orders at me."

"Stop getting all testy," Dad told him, "with this chip on your shoulder already—snappin' at everyone. Enough."

"What? No sweet, encouraging words?" Sonny cupped his ear.

"Yeah." Dad nodded. "Those who don't wanna get smacked, get the fuck outta my face."

Sonny laughed at him and I don't think I'll ever understand their relationship. My brother was right, though. While Dad was being very nice to me, he wasn't being his usual self. Then again, he's always nicer to me . . .

"Did you want me to talk to her?" Dad asked me.

That made me chuckle. "And say what? _For_ what? We were only…We weren't together. It meant nothing."

"Okay," he sighed. "We've been up here a while. We need to get going."

I nodded, sitting on my bed to put my shoes on.

We were out the door two minutes later, and then joined my uncle and grandfather in a limo. They were arguing when we entered, but then they shut their mouths. From there, and to my surprise, we went to scoop up Anthony, who was already here in Manhattan.

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

**KYLIE**

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

_**M**_om and Alex were acting like total goofballs. They were drunk, dancing and singing along to _Dirty Dancing_. Having grown up watching that movie over and over—whenever Mom felt like watching it—it kind of just played it the background while I texted Gio, scoped Facebook, tried to be discreet while talking to my friend.

Maggie actually paid attention, got all starry-eyed by the love story of it—seeing Baby and Johnny in herself and her "Santino".

So, while Baby was put in the corner, and my counterparts became engrossed—anticipating the last scene, I stared out the window.

Gino—like always—sat in his car, smoke wafting out from the windows. The cab was dimly lit, his cell phone likely illuminating it, and I ached to go outside.

"Hey…" I nudged Maggie.

She stared at the screen, slightly leaning toward me. "What?" She guzzled the rest of her wine.

"How much have you had?" I took the glass away from her, concerned. She drinks when no one is looking. Sonny doesn't know . . .

"This is my only glass," she slurred, lying, since she'd just taken a shot of Cuervo ten minutes ago when Baby shouted "Johnny" in that whiny voice.

I glanced at Mom and Alex. "Cool it. My best friend can't be a drunk."

She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "It helps me sleep…when Sonny's not home. And I'm not a drunk." She punched my shoulder. "They drink." She pointed to Mom and Alex.

"They're old," I whispered.

"Nobody puts Baby in the corner!" Mom and Alex shouted in unison, and then each took a shot of Cuervo.

Watching this is also a drinking game to them. At key—memorable—dialogue, they take a shot. "Kylie, you want some?" Mom offered me the bottle.

"I…" I stared at the bottle, and then to Maggie, 'cause I was just scolding her. "Okay." I winced, taking a large sip before passing it back, hating the burn it made sliding down.

"Pot, meet Kettle!" Maggie threw some popcorn at me.

"Huh?" Mom smiled.

"Nothing." Maggie and I said at the same time.

My mother grinned, turning back to the movie.

"I'm going outside—I need air," I whispered.

"Don't talk to him." Maggie had wide eyes. "You're going too far."

My stomach tied in knots. "But—"

"You have a great thing with Gio." She was absolutely correct. Lush or not, she spoke the truth. "You love Gio…no good can come of going outside."

"So, come with me. I just…I wanna say hi."

"They'll notice." She gestured to Mom and Alex. Then Maggie groaned, sitting up. "Just sleep over. You can stay in the bed with me…Sonny texted me. They're going to be late, after he said he'd be home early." She rolled her eyes. "Story of my life…but your bed is being delivered on Monday, which is perfect timing."

I'll be staying with them while my parents go away this week—to Bermuda or Miami—something beachy, I think. I begged them to take me, but it's not so romantic with me tagging along.

"Okay." I nodded, 'cause as soon as the movie's over, they'll probably leave . . . Unless they planned on watching _Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights_.

Sometimes, that follows.

"I think she gets this from me!" They shouted some dialogue, taking the last shot, but then they got up to dance again. "Come on!" Mom pulled on my hand. "You too!" She told Maggie.

My friend laughed, cuddled with a blanket on the couch. "I don't dance."

I smiled down to her after getting up. "You should learn. I can teach you."

Maggie laughed. "Like you taught me how to cook?"

"Hey." I put my hand on my hip. "Cooking is tricky business, but I know how to shake my ass." I turned to wiggle my butt in her face.

She giggled, swatting me away. "I have two left feet and no rhythm."

"Oh!" Alex stopped dancing, gaining all of our attentions. "I signed your mother up—"

"For what?" Mom asked.

"Pole-dancing lessons."

Mom almost choked on her soda—her chaser. "Pole-dancing? Like…?"

"Lap dancing, too. We have to do something. The holidays are over, and I know _I've_ put on a few." She rubbed her stomach. "Zumba's getting boring . . . it was that or kickboxing, women's self-defense."

"Oh! Me!" I raised my hand, excited. "I wanna kickbox."

Maggie nodded. "That sounds cool."

Alex shook her head. "Wouldn't you rather learn to dance—all naughty-like—drive your Santino crazy?" She wiggled her brows.

"That reminds me." Maggie nudged my arm. "I signed us up for the coat drive at Saint Anselm."

"Oh my God! Not the coat drive." Mom palmed her cheeks. "You guys are rebels."

Alex laughed. "You two are adorable."

"I'm kidding," my mother said. "I do plenty of charity work." Likely to bargain my father's entrance into heaven.

"You signed us up to kiss your mom's ass?" I asked Maggie, but I figured fuck it. This time next year, we'll be up to our necks in studying, reading. Volunteering and taking classes that are fun will be really cool.

"No...I called Sister Tavia after dinner." My friend had wide eyes. "Santino said I could start—"

"Sister Tavia?" I asked in disbelief. "She's a nun." I wondered why she'd be calling her.

"We talk sometimes," Maggie whispered, looking up to me. "Before you, she was my best friend."

"The wacky nun from our church?" I giggled, but when Maggie frowned I felt bad. "I'm sorry."

She nodded. "It's okay. She is wacky, but she's really funny and easy to talk to."

"She is," my mother agreed. "But Sister Tavia isn't a priest or a lawyer," she sighed, sitting down next to Maggie.

"Oh!" My friend looked surprise. "We don't talk about anything that would warrant discretion."

"What?" I was confused.

"I trust you." Mom nodded. "Now that the movie's over, we can chat—if you wanted to. There was a lot of tension between you and Sonny, and then sneaking away…What did you argue about?"

Maggie grinned. "We, uh, didn't argue…if you know what I mean." She was getting better at keeping the drama wolves – Mom and Alex – at bay. Especially since she was lying. Maggie told me all about the almost-fight and the tongue action in the bathroom.

_Lucky bitch. _

My mother threw her head back and laughed. "You guys…youse remind me of Edward and myself, when we were first married. He wanted a baby so bad, and I kept saying no…until I came to the conclusion I wanted one just as badly."

Maggie cleared her throat, sitting up. "I'm on the fence—scared. And I already knew that. I figured you and Alex would understand my situation better than others given your pasts, but…" Her tone was lost to them, who were all smiles.

"I was young when I married Carlisle—he's older than me. And you know what? I can't even say my mindset was that much different at twenty-three—when I had Eddie—from when I was nineteen." Alex waved a hand. "You're scared at first, but once you have your baby…now that's love. Having Eddie, Ronald, and Blaze…those were the two happiest days of my life, not counting the day Anthony finally called me Mom." She was misty-eyed. "A wise woman once told me this." She nudged Mom. "As long as you're sure—and you trust Sonny, the rest . . . it always seems to fall into place. It's called having faith. I believe in God, and you're religious. You believe in something you can't see. Sonny's right in front of you. Place some faith in him."

"Wow…" Maggie sighed. "You're right."

"For what it's worth—" Mom took Maggie's hand "—I think you're a better woman than those twice your age—you're mature. You trust my son, which you should, and you hardly give him shit. You understand your husband, which is something…people married twenty years have a hard time doing. You guys will make it work."

"No, I do have faith." Maggie smiled. "I also trust him because he's never given me a reason not to—has always been straight, honest with me. I knew from the get-go that he'd be busy, that I wouldn't see him that often sometimes. It still stings, though. How do I cope with that?"

Mom grabbed Alex's hand and mine. "Friends. Those who have similar fears, those you can be honest with. You're bored now, but once you start going to school, or . . . If you decide you want to try for a child, you'll be busier." Mom slurred that last word, and I wondered how schnocked she was.

"She's right." I nodded. "You'll always have me."

"I know." She rested her head on my shoulder. "But Grandpa Ed…I could use more of you and less of him."

"You're a godsend, Maggie." Mom held her cheeks, leaning in to give her a smooch, and that's when I knew Mom was _really_ drunk. She adores Maggie, but to land a loud wet one on the girl's lips? "You make Sonny so happy."

"I'm staying over tonight," I said.

Mom looked to her watch. "It is getting late. Sal's still out there with Gino, right? Or do I need to call him?"

I looked out the window again. "Yes . . ." Both cars were still parked by the curb.

Mom nodded. "I don't want you walking home alone in the morning. You call me, your father, or Vito, or have Sonny walk you—I don't care that it's around the corner."

I hung my head. "Is something going on?" They never tell me what, but I know something's up when there's heightened security. And Maggie has been on a tight leash . . .

"No, baby girl. We just worry." She pecked my cheek. "My girls . . . When they all left before, I thought we should have gone to a bar—"

"I would have gone." Instead, I lost ten bucks to my aunt during a round of rummy, ate two bowls of popcorn, and I felt gas coming on...

"Next time." She placed her arms around Maggie and me. "I love these nights—me and my girls. You, too!"

Alex twirled and humped the air like Johnny. "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah…" she sang.

We ignored her.

"We're not seriously calling it a night this early?" Alex had wide eyes.

The look I gave Maggie was definitely conspiratorial.

They had to go.

My road dog yawned. "I'm exhausted—after today."

"Me, too." Mom nodded.

Five minutes later, they were placing their coats on. To my surprise, they left quickly when they usually linger. Mom and Alex entered Sal's car and then pulled away from the curb, and they were only going around the corner.

When my eyes met Gino's, I waved, calling him over.

He looked confused but marched up the walkway.

"Do you have a cigarette?" I asked.

He silently handed me one and then held out a lighter.

Me, having only tried a cigarette once in my life, leaned forward.

"It's best you don't inhale the first time," Gino said, smirking.

"I smoke all the time," I lied, blowing the smoke out the door, waving it away.

"Kylie…oh." Maggie stopped in the doorway, staring down to us. "Um."

"I'll be in in a minute," I told her, standing there with my cigarette, and I really felt cool . . . mature, and just a little bit stupid.

Maggie made eye contact with us both before turning.

"Did you wanna come in?" I asked, knowing he wasn't allowed.

"No!" Maggie shouted. "Sorry . . . he's—"

"I don't go inside," Gino told me. "I'll be in the car." He turned, going back down the walkway, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why . . .

I started to follow him.

"Are you crazy?" Maggie pulled me back in, stealing the smoke from me. She tossed it into the street.

"What's your problem? Go have another drink, alkie." I nudged her away.

"What is your fascination with him?" she laughed. "He's handsome. So, what? Gio's hotter than he is."

She had to say his name.

"He's just…" I stared at Gino's car. "Gio's so…wholesome and sweet, and…"

"Those aren't bad things." She scolded. "He's also honest, he respects you, and he loves you so much. Don't go out there."

"I'm not going to do anything. I love Gio. I'd never—"

"I'm telling you." She closed her eyes, cringing. "You're not _you_ when Gino's around. You get all stupid. That's dangerous. It doesn't matter what you _say_ . . . sometimes things happen that we don't intend on happening."

"Dangerous." I snorted. "He works for my dad and Sonny. He won't hurt—"

"Joe worked for your dad, too." Yeah, I'd told her all about my ex-fiancé. "You almost blew it with Gio once. You fuck up again—" Maggie said fuck, which caught my attention "—he won't forgive you this time. Don't mistake Gio's kindness, his forgiveness, for weakness. He loves you so much…Don't put yourself in that position. It's stupid."

Her words pissed me off for some reason. "What do you know?" I whisper shouted. "You used to be fun, but now you're all . . . Hell. You're so worried about what I'm doing. What about your husband?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "What about him?"

"He's probably getting a lap dance—up to God knows what right now—" I gasped when she pushed me so hard, I almost fell off the step. "Bitch!" I punched her tit.

She groaned out in frustration, holding her boob. "You troll!"

I snorted. "Oh…a troll!" My eyes widened, wiggling my hands. "What's next? You'll call me a demon?" I made horns on my head with my fingers, sticking my tongue out.

"Oh, Kylie…do whatever you want." She looked exasperated. "Go fuck yourself, too."

I gasped in surprise, proud of her, and then I stood there ready, thinking she might take another swing at me since I hit her. But she actually straightened out—her face blank. It's not like I punched her hard, and I really wanted to apologize—doubtful that Sonny was doing anything bad.

"Watch your foot," she said.

"Why—" I looked down.

She slammed the door in my face.

"That wasn't funny!" I shouted.

Maggie turned off the porch light. "You want Gino so bad, go sit with him!" She gave me the finger through the window.

"Open the door," I grumbled, kicking rocks—that gravel shit by the hedges. "Come on."

The curtain didn't move. Maggie probably wasn't in the window anymore, so I turned for the street. It was dark—not to mention freezing—as I sprinted to Gino's car.

I knocked on the window. "Hi." I waved.

He brought it down, just looking at me.

"Can you give me a ride home?" I asked.

He bit his lower lip, staring at me with a hint of a smile. "I can call someone, but I'm not supposed to leave."

"I'm right around the corner. You know where I live." I didn't want to call my mom when I could actually walk the short distance. Yet, it was safer—I think—to ask Gino for a ride.

"Uh…" Gino looked into the street, and so did I. Someone was walking toward his car. "Gimme a second." He left the car, walking the few short paces to meet that person.

"Can I wait inside?" I asked, dancing from foot to foot, and he looked fuckhot in his leather coat and baggy jeans. Gino had such a sexy edge—a bad-boy vibe.

"I said gimme a sec." He sort of snapped.

I was taken aback by that.

All he had to do was press a button on his car remote, let me in. But as I stared down the street to Gino and the guy he was meeting, I smiled awkwardly. "Eddie?" I shouted, seeing my cousin. "What are you doing here? Sneaking out after dark?" I skipped over to them, happy.

Meanwhile, he's allowed to gallivant—roam the streets. It was such hypocritical bullshit—pissed me off.

"Why are you out this late?" my cousin asked.

"I could ask you the same thing. Your mom just left . . . Maggie's on the rag," I lied. "We fought."

He grinned. "What'd'ju do?"

"Why's it gotta be me?" I asked.

"'Cause it's always you." He slapped his hand to Gino's. They exchanged something—Eddie gave something and Gino gave something.

"What's that?" I pointed.

"Christ." Gino turned his body toward me. "I'll take you home—just mind yo' neck. Go wait by the whip." He stepped forward, making me walk backward.

It was intimidating to say the least.

"Dude." Li'l Ed grabbed my arm, pulling me away from him. "What's your problem? Don't step to her like that."

"She's got a big mouth—I'm around these two all day. She's sees something, and I get pinched? Nah, I don't think so." Gino shook his head. "I take orders from Sonny's old lady. No one said I had to babysit the princess."

"Princess?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Babysit? Me and you—we're the same age." I gestured between us. "Babysit, nothing." Confused, I looked to my cousin. "Um…Can you walk me home?"

Li'l Ed nodded. "Yeah."

Surprised, after hearing him speak for the first time ever, I looked to Gino. He was an asshole. Hot or not, he was . . . I don't know. I guess because he's Alex's cousin, I thought he'd be nice, especially since he's gorgeous. "Thanks for nothing," I told him.

"Look, you talk a li'l too much. Excuse me if I like to keep my business, my business."

Li'l Ed walked closer to Gino. "You shouldn't be talking to her at all. Aren't you supposed to be seen and not heard? A driver?"

"We all pay our dues, make our bones. You get into the family biz, Ed, you'll see. Then again, you're royalty." Gino smiled. "We're also family. I could son you right now, but I won't."

Li'l Ed snorted. "Get back in your car before I tell my cousin you're selling drugs in front of his house."

"You bought drugs?" I hit Eddie's shoulder.

"Selling drugs? I sold you the pot I had left over, you little fucker." Gino rolled his eyes. "You fucking little weirdo, trying to size me up because of your cousin no less. Why don't we pull our dicks out and see whose is bigger? Just…you get inside." He looked to me. "And you go home, before Mommy notices you're gone. And I shouldn't have to remind you to keep your mouth shut."

"My cousin's no rat. He just wanted you to step off." I scoffed, and I no longer had a crush on Gino, but curiosity got the better of me. "What is it?"

Gino put his hands up and then turned back for his car.

"Don't worry about it," Eddie said.

"Tell me." I reached for his hand.

He grabbed my arm, pulling me back onto Sonny's lawn. Surprisingly, Maggie had her head poked out the door.

"Now, you open up?"

"Just get in here. It's cold." She pulled her bathrobe tighter.

About to piss myself because I was freezing, I tiptoed into the foyer. "Come on." Eddie was still just standing there.

My cousin walked in like he owned the place. "Nice digs." The last time he was here, the house wasn't put together at all.

"Thank you," Maggie said.

"That's what you sleep in?" he asked her.

Maggie looked down to her flannel pants, her fluffy bathrobe.

"What kind of shit is that to ask her?" I pushed him.

He shrugged, not saying any more.

"Most of my sexy lingerie is in the hamper," Maggie said.

"Really?" Eddie asked.

"She's kidding." I rolled my eyes, and Maggie giggled. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," she said.

"Go 'head." Li'l Eddie nudged me toward her. "Kiss and make up."

I groaned, showing him my fist. "What'd Gino give you?"

He huffed, dropping his shoulders. "Weed. It's no big deal."

"You do that?" I asked him.

"Sometimes." He shrugged.

I nodded, sidling up to him. "I wanna try it."

"You've never gotten baked before?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"No!" Maggie said. "That stuff stinks."

"We'll go in the backyard," I whispered. "Chill the fuck out."

"Look—" Ed pulled out a small baggie "—I'll give you enough for a joint, but I gotta get home before my mother."

"Your mom left fifteen minutes ago. She's gotta be home already," Maggie said.

"Shit." His leg bounced as he placed some weed into my palm. "I gotta go. That's a decent sized bud. You can make a fatty with that."

"Okay," I said.

Maggie walked him to the door, only to turn and shake her head at me.

"Oh my God. It's just pot," I whined and wiggled. "I won't bitch about you sneaking wine anymore."

"You act like I'm a drunk." She plopped down onto the couch. "Seriously."

"Maybe I exaggerated." I sat next to her. "Don't you wanna try it?" I sniffed it and scrunched my nose; it smelled like a skunk.

"I don't know." She seemed unsure.

"Jesus smoked weed and He drank wine!" I exclaimed.

"I've read that passage—where He turned water into wine and brooms into weed." She snorted. "Gimme a break."

"What's the big deal? Gio's done it and he doesn't do anything. He said he got giggly, tired and hungry, ate a sandwich, and then went to sleep." I nodded. "Nothing's gonna happen."

Maggie furrowed her brow.

"Come on! Do it with me," I begged.

She winced. "Okay, but only a little."

"They were all high on New Year's Eve. It can't be that bad, and if Sonny did it . . . He's so health-conscious."

Maggie gave me some look.

"What?"

"He eats healthy," she sighed, "exercises, but…my husband knows how to party. And just because he does something doesn't mean it's okay for me to do it—he said that."

"Ugh. What's good for the goose, you know? Smoking weed didn't kill him, or anyone on New Year's."

"Kylie, why's this—doing this—so important?" she asked, sounding like my mother.

I wanted to beat her with a pillow, but then she'd make me sleep on the snow-covered lawn. "Why does everything have to have a reason? We're home alone—this is _your_ house. We can do whatever we want! But we can't invite boys over. My mother and aunt finished all the wine—unless you have a stash somewhere."

That bitch yawned. "I wanna go to bed."

"You're no fun." I cringed.

"You want a drink? There's a fully-stocked cabinet in Santino's study."

"I've been drunk before. I wanna get stoned . . ."

"Fine . . . I'll do it!" She threw a pillow at me. "God. You're so annoying sometimes."

"So are you!" I waved my fist. "Let's go look in Sonny's drawers for that paper stuff." I hopped up and went for the staircase.

Maggie chased after me. "Don't go through his things!"

"That's my brother," I said.

She held her forehead. "That's my husband, and I'm asking you to respect his privacy."

"It's not like I haven't seen the guns or the stacks of money before. Or, does he house a giant dildo for you in his sock drawer…for when you pull it out of your ass?" I laughed, running up the stairs.

Maggie was hot on my heels, followed me into their bedroom. "Kylie—"

"You look then." I pointed. "I won't touch anything." I turned, gently placing the weed on the nightstand.

No matter how discreet she was trying to be, opening drawers halfway and shit, I was still able to see things—looking over her shoulder. There were stacks of money, socks, underwear, gun, and a couple of medication bottles—

"What's all that? Is he sick?"

"No," she laughed. "They're different things—not even all medicine—but he doesn't take any of them."

I frowned. "Does he have a pill problem?"

"No," she said, slamming one closed. "Like this one." She showed me a bottle with what looked like dirt, dirty weed inside.

"What the hell is that?" I asked.

"Santino said they're magic mushrooms."

I gasped. "Shrooms. I've heard of those. Let's do that."

"No way!" she shouted, throwing it back in. "He said he's had these for a long, long time. He never threw them out. Who knows what would happen? If they're old?"

"What's in that?" I pointed to a small box.

"Nothing." Maggie wouldn't touch it.

"Tell me." I reached for it.

She almost closed my hand in the drawer. "Don't."

"Geez." I hissed. "I'm just saying…the paper might be in there."

"It's not," she said. "There's coke in there...I was supposed to flush it, but he'll notice it gone. I don't know."

"Cocaine?" I jumped up and down. "Wow."

She pushed me away from the chest of drawers. "We shouldn't even be looking in there."

"But look at all that stuff. Why does he have all that stuff?" I wondered.

"I don't know."

Nervous, I pursed my lips. "Um…Can I take some of the coke? Just…so Gio and me can try it when he comes home?"

"Fuck no!"

I jumped back, surprised by how loud she got.

"He'll notice—"

"No, he won't."

"He will," she insisted. "Promise me you won't touch that stuff."

"I'm just curious," I whispered.

"Well, when you see how much it changes someone…I know I'd never wanna do it." She pointed to herself. "The shrooms sounded cool when he explained what they did, though. What does it look like? The paper?"

"I dunno…small papers." I nodded. "I can call Damion. He doesn't judge, or Gio . . . He might know what to do."

"Gio might tell his dad."

I groaned, throwing myself back on their bed. "He does tell Uncle Aro everything. I really hate that." I leaned up on my elbows. "Oh, and Gino's an asshole. How can you be around him all the time?"

She crawled in next to me. "It's not about liking him . . . he just sits outside, drives me places."

"You miss Sonny a lot, huh?"

"Yeah." She turned her face away from me. "It's crazy and everything went so fast . . . All of this has been like a dream . . . and, I don't know. Sometimes I wish we were still at the apartment." She smiled.

"It's so run-down—my dad never remodeled that place, and there's all the dents in the wall."

"I know about the dents," she laughed, slamming her head into a pillow, inhaling. "This is Santino's pillow . . . it smells so good."

I scrunched my nose. "There's probably dried drool…"

"Kylie, he's never here." Her face crumbled, and she started to cry. "And sometimes, when he is here, he's…and I wish he wasn't here."

"Oh…" I rubbed her back, and I kind of knew how she felt. Just because I found Gino attractive, was curious about him, doesn't mean I don't miss my own boyfriend like crazy.

She sniffled. "I try not to get angry, but I always do. So, sometimes when he is home, I like…I lash out, and I hate myself for it because…what if he's just like, forget this, I'll never come home. Then, when he's different or high on that crap, I can't say anything. I'm afraid to, and that's when I wish he wasn't home."

"_That_ is crap," I said. "If he does something, you give him hell. You can't let Sonny get away with anything, or else . . . My brother is like a child. You give an inch and he'll take a mile. But if you give him shit for something that pisses you off, he won't do it again." I nodded.

"I asked him to stay home tonight. He said no but then he said yes, and then he said he'd be home early." She took her phone out. "Now he's saying he got caught up at Dame's dorm, don't wait up."

"But I bet he buys you something nice—to make up for it." I smiled.

"I should throw all that crap on the lawn!"

"No. Give it all to me. That'll really piss him off," I lied.

Maggie started to laugh. "Liar."

I hummed, moving closer to snuggle—'cause we do that. She was the big spoon, and I was the little spoon. "Maybe—" I started and stopped, pulling the blanket on us. "I don't know. He went through all that stuff with Katie. Then he got his heart stomped on. He was so excited about the baby. I bet if you had one, he'd be home more—he wouldn't party at all. That makes sense."

"I was thinking the same thing, but that's not the right reason to have a baby."

"What's the right reason?" I asked, with general curiosity. "When I was with Joe, we were going to have a baby. Well, we were going to try right away."

"You wanted a baby?"

"I thought I did," I whispered. "I wanted the house, the cars, the money . . . basically everything you have now." I turned around to face her. "Your life is so glamorous—"

"Glamorous?" She started crying again. "I don't know where my husband is half the time. I drive myself crazy—trying to understand and keep up with everything. My life is literally and totally opposite than what it was. I can hardly keep up with school . . . I'm slacking. I'm eighteen, and I don't even know what _I'm doing_ most of the time." She ranted. "Before, I'd never even seen coke, and now I'm worried half the time my husband's on another fucking bender! So, no. My life is not glamorous!" She shrieked at me. "You want what's in my closet? Take it all—"

"Whoa!" I held her biceps. "I'm sorry. Your life sucks. Okay? Feel better?"

She wouldn't look at me. "I didn't mean what I said . . . about the coke." She tried to backpedal, her chest still heaving.

"I thought you loved Sonny—"

"I do, more than anything, and that's why it hurts sometimes. He said we'd just be together . . . like we were, but thing's changed. I love Santino—my feelings for him, my God. I can't understand those either, and I don't regret marrying him, but . . . at the same time, I wasn't ready to get married. I'm also really happy most days. I go back and forth."

I tickled her side, trying to make her laugh. "A lot of it sounds like fear. My dad told me…never be afraid of fear or whatever. Be afraid of bears, or tigers, or—"

"Kylie." She had a tone. "So, you thought you wanted a baby with Joe. Do you want one now?" she asked.

"No . . . I dunno. If Gio wanted one, I'd have one for him."

"Do you think I'm selfish? I mean, I kind of just answered my own question. If I'm not ready for the marriage I'm already in . . . I'm not ready for a baby."

"I don't think you're selfish at all," I laughed. "A baby matures people faster, though."

"I'm just not sure. I want one and then I'm scared, 'cause . . ." she sighed. "Santino said we're having a few rough weeks. He said things'll go back to normal. I just need to ride it out," she spoke to herself. "I'm so immature. I'm supposed to cherish my vows—for better or for worse, 'til death do us part—and I'm all whiny."

"My brother loves you so much. My dad…sometimes he's busy and then other times he's not. I don't get it, so don't ask me, but Sonny being busy won't last forever."

She grinned. "I am being silly."

"You are . . . things will be fine. But you're lucky Sonny's giving you a choice."

"What do you mean?" She grimaced. "It's my body—"

"But Sonny's your husband." I sat up and back on my calves. "Like, when we were growing up and even now, my mom trumps my dad with rules. But if he wants or needs her to do something for him, she does it. And if she needed something, he'd do whatever . . . You know what I think?" I giggled, leaning my forehead to hers.

"What?" She grinned.

"You're due for another shot next month. Don't get it. You guys just continue to hump like bunnies, and it'll be a surprise." I nodded, getting really excited. "Oh my God. Do you know how happy he'd be?"

She beamed. "He would be . . . but that's deceitful. What if he got mad—"

"We should call Dame. He'd know. He knows Sonny better than anyone, and he can keep a secret."

She stopped me from dialing on my phone. "No offense, but I don't want Damion knowing my personal stuff. You wanna call about the weed, I don't care. Just don't talk about me to him."

"He's different now," I said. "Damion's not the same—"

"Maybe…maybe he's nice again. Though, like I said . . . no offense, but your brother is a chameleon. He changes—"

"He's not a snake!" I laughed. "I mean, he _can_ be dishonest."

"Your dad's right—you better go to college."

"What?" I asked, placing my phone to my ear.

"Nothing," she whispered.

It was already going on eleven o'clock, and I hoped Damion would answer. He's probably at one of the clubs already—might not hear his phone.

"Hello?" he answered on the third ring.

"Hey!" My voice was squeaky, excited.

"What's going on?"

I didn't hear the loud music but horns honking in the background. "Where are you?"

"In the back of Eclipse—smoking a cigarette with Sonny."

"One of those funny cigarettes?" I smiled.

"Funny cigarettes…? Oh, no…just a cigarette." He sounded down, which was a contrast to his regular—newer behavior.

"Um…I need to ask you something." I looked to Maggie, a little nervous now. She was staring back, putting lotion on her feet.

"Okay….What?" He wasn't talking to me now. "Sonny wants to know what Maggie's doing?"

"She's putting lotion on her feet, and she's upset. You tell that motherfucker that when he says early, he better be home early. I mean it, Dame. You tell him that."

"Kylie!" Maggie scolded, but then listened closely—her ear against my phone, too.

"Kylie says she's fine, lotioning her feet or some bullshit."

"Damion!" I shouted.

"What did you wanna ask me?" He got down to business.

"If he gave a fuck, he'd call and ask her what's up himself." I nodded.

"Cut the bullshit."

I huffed. "Okay…we have weed and we wanna smoke it, but we don't have anything to put it in."

"You mean roll it?" he laughed.

"Whatever."

"You got rolling papers somewhere at your house, bro?" Damion asked Sonny.

"For who? Mom? Is she still there?"

"No, just Kylie and Maggie from the sound of it."

"What the hell are they doing?" Sonny asked.

"Kylie has weed—they wanna smoke it." I could picture my brother rolling his eyes. "Oh, tell Maggie to get out her bible. That paper rolls great—"

"Gimme the fuckin' phone . . . Hello?" It was Sonny now.

My stomach rolled and Maggie backed away from the phone, all wary-like. "Hi," I squeaked.

"Put Maggie on."

I held my cell phone out to her, and she shook her head. "Take it." I made it dance. "It's your San-ti-no!"

She gave me a lopsided grin, taking the phone from me. "Hey."

I waited anxiously, wondering if he'd be cool or a total ass—with Sonny it could go either way.

"Where is it?" Maggie's gaze met mine. "Oh, yeah…yeah, I remember seeing that . . . the hall closet." She smiled. "We can use that . . . ? Okay. How much water?" She turned around, likely for privacy. "Maybe I should write this down."

She grew quiet for a minute but never grabbed for a pen. "If it's boring, then why don't you come home? . . . It's not my intention to give you shit. I hope you're having a good time, but you're saying you're bored. You could come home. That's all . . . yeah, tomorrow's Sunday, but you're going to sleep all day. Or, to stay awake you'll do that stuff, and I hate it when you—" She pulled the phone away from her ear; it actually sounded like he yelled at her.

My girl shouted right back, though. "You're not even working—that's why I have a problem, and you've been seeing your grandfather every day, and if it was a real party, we'd all have been invited. You're up to no good, hyper. I can hear it in your voice—you did that stuff . . . I didn't call to fight with you. In fact, I didn't call _you_ at all!" She ended the call, handing me my phone.

"Trouble in paradise?"

She cringed in place. "Let's get high—everyone else does."

"He has paper?"

She shook her head, leaving the bedroom.

I followed her to a closet, and then she pulled a medium-sized box out.

"What are we looking for?"

"A bong? Santino says…Aha!" It was at the top of the box, this green tube-like thing, and I'd seen one of those before. Sonny used to hide one under his bed when he lived at home.

"How…?" I stared at it, wondering where the weed went.

"We have to put water in it, and then the weed goes in the metal thing."

"But how do we get the weed into us?" I stared up to the ceiling, wishing I had a broader knowledge of things—any-fucking-thing.

My grandfather was right.

I am a goody-two-shoes.

"We _could_ Google it…" Maggie hummed. "But I bet Gino knows how to use it."

"You said Gino's not allowed in the house."

Maggie laughed, an evil one, one I'd never heard from her. "Santino does things all the time he's not supposed to do."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She got on her cell phone. "Hi, Gino? Can you come to the door? Thanks." She hung up.

"What's going on with Sonny? The truth?" I asked, having heard her say a bunch of jumbled crap tonight.

Maggie dropped her shoulders. "Your brother's been very busy lately . . . and he snorts coke to stay awake, keep up with things, and that stuff scares the shit out of me." She rambled. "You can't say anything to anyone. He'd . . . he'd be so pissed." She held her stomach. "Oh God...The things I tell you…it's between us. Right? I can't believe I told you. Kylie—"

"I won't repeat it," I whispered.

She stared down to her feet. "He hasn't done it in almost a week—he said he hasn't. And he was really calm today—cooking, being around the family."

"He snatched you out of your chair. That's calm?" That was hard to forget. "My brother has a temper, but thinking about it…and I know you embarrassed him. He went too far, though. Does he…um…" I didn't know the right question to ask, and I didn't think I wanted the answer. Sonny didn't mean it.

Maggie carried on, like I hadn't uttered a word. "I was actually able to talk to him today, even if I acted like a brat. So, that's why I really, really didn't want him to go out." She blew out a breath. "But I've seen him do it many times. When he does it _all_ the time, he's really never home. When I know he's done it . . . I don't dare yell or fight 'cause…" She had tears in her eyes again. "I call you, and we do something. But then I know—it's back to the baby thing—I think that if I have one, he'll slow down."

I was more confused now than before. "What?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "You know he gets mad easy—snaps at people."

"He does," I said.

"God." She cried into her hands for a second.

"Maggie . . . please." It seemed like there was more going on than Sonny just being busy, doing a little coke. "Tell me . . . or if you can't talk to me, we'll call my mom."

"I'm being a baby." She went for the stairs, going down the steps to let Gino in.

"Wait." I stopped her from opening the door.

"Everything's fine." She smiled, her eyes watery, and the face she made . . . They may look nothing alike but she resembled my mother, because she was lying—smiling to cover the frown, faking it until she made it.

"I love you," I said, scared, not wanting her to leave Sonny. I'd lose her, too.

"I love you, too." She grinned, reaching for the door. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"Are you going to run away?" I turned to face her, keeping my back to the door, and I heard Gino lightly knocking.

"Run away?" Maggie shook her head.

"Leave Sonny."

"No!" she shouted. "No way. No, I could never. I'm just being a brat 'cause I miss him."

"Are you sure?" My heart broke in the oddest way. "You're younger than me . . ." And I couldn't imagine coping, living the way she has. On the surface, her life looks like my mother's, glamorous, yet there's a tremendous amount of heartache underneath—no matter how much they love their men.

Gio, Sonny, my parents—they all helped me dodge a bullet, as they kept me from marrying Joe.

But who was looking out for Maggie?

"I should have looked out for you better." Tears welled up in my eyes. "It was all in fun…and then you guys fell in love. I should have never left you alone with him."

"What?" Maggie held my hands.

Gino knocked again. "Ladies, everything okay?"

"Back up!" I barked at the door. "We'll call when we need something."

Maggie giggled at the door. "You got over that quick."

I shrugged and then sighed, staring at her. "I feel…"

"You've been an amazing friend." She palmed my cheek. "You're fun, nothing but honest, and you help me whenever I need you—"

"You, too." I sniffled. "And you keep me out of trouble."

Maggie hugged me tight. "I have faith . . . in my husband, and I love him more than I can explain. I can be bratty, but I'm okay . . . Kylie, I'm fine." She leaned away. "I don't regret marrying him—no matter what happens or how much we fight."

"Promise?" I asked.

"I swear," she giggled.

"Well . . . all right." I tried to shake all those feelings away.

Maggie opened the door, and Gino was still there—stood there expectantly. "Come in."

Gino shook his head. "You think I'm stupid?" That question was aimed at me since he's not allowed to speak to Maggie.

"Do you know how to use a bong?" Maggie asked.

"A what?" Gino faced her. "That's what you sleep in?"

Maggie and I faced each other, and then looked back to him.

"You are stupid," I commented. "Just tell us how to smoke out of it."

Gino chuckled. "Fine…where is it?" He closed the door behind himself.

"I'll get it." Maggie left us, running up the steps.

My gaze fell back on Gino.

And he wasn't that hot.

"What?" he asked.

I shook my head and stopped myself from insulting him.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts.**


	36. Eclipse at Midnight

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**WARNING: **THIS CHAPTER contains strong emotions and extreme actions which may be hard to read. Please remember my policy of no E/B cheating and HEA always. Know that everything I write, I write for a reason, and I do not take any of the issues portrayed in this chapter lightly. This is a significant chapter in Riders on the Storm, and these events will resonate as the story continues to unfold. If you have any reaction - negative or positive - and want to leave a review, sign in and tell me. Don't just flounce or hide behind anonymity.

**Our author/reader relationship is important to me, and I want to know how YOU feel about my work and the emotions it evokes in you.**

*** To answer a few questions: Recent chapter titles have little reference to the locations. It's more about time, since this is still the same day as ch34 and ch35. For example, "Dinner"/ "Drama at Twilight" and now "Eclipse at Midnight" This chapter will conclude this crazy ass day. **

*** CH37, which will be Edward/Skip POV, will take place days/nearly a week after this chapter. Time is moving on ahead, albeit slowly. But it'll start to pick up. We have a lot of ground to cover.**

***sigh* Lastly, there are two characters in this chapter named "Anthony". I've done my best to differentiate. So, readers won't get confused knowing who's Cousin Anthony (Carlisle's son, Ant) and the other character. Cousin Anthony is usually dubbed "Ant". Keep that in mind. **

**On with the show . . .**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Eclipse at Midnight**

**Sonny POV**

_**I**_t was close to ten when we arrived at Eclipse—finally getting there. Picking up Damion was a huge waste of time, all that talking. I wished he'd have gotten dressed right away.

We could've been in and out in ten minutes . . .

Scooping Ant from the brokerage took another twenty minutes . . .

And it sucked because I'd set a goal.

I was to be out of there by eleven, home by 11:30, possibly before my mother and all them left. I'd get extra points for coming home while Mom was still there. It'd prove just how early I was.

Nevertheless, whether I was leaving soon or not, I sent Maggie a text—letting her down, telling her I'd be late, because I more than likely will be.

Still, no matter the time, I promised myself two drinks and that was it.

I think I should stop making promises altogether. Even if, deep down, I mean them with my whole heart. Nowadays, promises have lost their meaning. My word . . . And that was incredibly heartbreaking.

Eclipse was filled to capacity tonight. Mike and Franco were running things. Fucking Aro was helping out, too, and I wanted no part in anything. As I made my way through the crowd, greeting people, Mike approached me—wanting to know this or that—and I held up my hands, walking away.

Shit was becoming too much.

Between Mike, Franco, and Aro they could come up with solutions…for whatever.

"Your father is looking for you," Nunzio said, sliding into the booth next to Ant—opposite Dame and me.

"Me or him?" I pointed to my brother.

"What do you think?" He sipped his drink.

I never said they had to be two alcoholic beverages, and guzzled some Pepsi down. I was trying my best to behave. I didn't want to go home the slightest bit drunk or high. If my word was no longer good enough, I had to start showing Maggie.

"I'll be back." When I left the booth, I noticed Damion following me. "It's probably business."

"I don't care . . . I stick with you and Dad, I stay outta trouble." His voice was a dull monotone.

"Get a dance." I gestured to the stage. "You used to love doing that."

Damion didn't say anything, and it seemed like he went back into silent-mode—not speaking and shit, the way he was before…The way he used to be before Amelia, before he had a pair of balls.

"Right." I spoke for the sake of doing so, going down the back corridor.

The door to the office was closed, but it wasn't locked, so I just let myself in. To my surprise, I saw Anthony Maisano—boss of the Maisanos out in Vegas—and his son Nicholas sitting across from my father.

Carlisle and Aro flanked Dad, standing to either side of him.

"Santino!" Anthony shouted, rising from his chair. "How you doin', son?"

I smiled, hugging him tightly and patting his back. "I'm great . . . What are you doing in New York?"

"Eh . . . Your gramps ain't getting' any younger," Anthony said. "He won't come out to my neck of the woods, although my pop sends his best."

"How's Junior doin' these days?" I asked, pulling up a chair, reaching out to shake Nicholas's hand. "Wassup?"

Nick smiled, looking over to Dame, the only unfamiliar face.

"My father's well—wacky in his old age, but I hear males do that." Anthony shared a glance with my father.

"Gentlemen, this is my youngest son, Damion." Dad introduced him, although he didn't inform Damion as to who Anthony and Nicholas were.

In other words, my father was letting our "cousins" know that my brother wasn't connected.

Dame was polite, shaking hands and whatnot.

"What's this I heard you got married?" Anthony faced me. "You get married in Vegas, basically in my backyard, and I wasn't even invited?"

I laughed. "It was a day trip."

"Still…"

"I told him," Dad said, pointing.

"Oh, it would'a been great." Anthony looked disappointed, giving a fleeting glance to Dame. "You married?"

Damion shook his head.

"Neither is this little fucker." Anthony shook his son's shoulder.

"Dame," Dad gained his attention. "Why don't you show Nicki around? Get him a drink, introduce him to Ant—your cousin?"

Damion nodded. "If you don't see you, it was a pleasure." He shook Anthony's hand, and then left with Nicholas.

"Fuckin' scary how much that kid looks like you," Anthony commented, staring at my father.

Dad laughed his ass off. "You should see baby girl—looks just like her mother."

"My TJ looks just like Gabby."

"How's TJ?" I asked.

Last I heard and saw, TJ was really running shit now. Kind of like how Dad took a step back and I stepped forward. And it must be awesome out there, all that space, the clubs, the casinos, and all the money—the fucking desert, where you can toss as many bodies wherever the fuck.

Truth be told, though, Vegas is an even smaller outfit than New Jersey. However, they hold their own for all the reasons I stated above—mad fucking money coming in and outta Vegas.

"He's great—doing well. He's got two kids now, two girls." He took out his phone. "Wanna see some pics?"

I nodded, leaning over to be polite.

Dad smiled, encouraging him to show us more photos of his family.

I wished they'd get down to business, why I was in here in the first place.

"I hate to interrupt—no disrespect—but I'm pressed for time," I said, looking over to my father.

He wasn't happy about that comment at all. "Oh, are we keeping you from something?"

"My wife." I was honest and faced Anthony. "I'm a newlywed…young wife, and I've been mad busy." I shrugged.

He winced. "She, uh, knowledgeable?"

"She's Irish," Dad said, and he didn't say it like it was a bad thing. His simple words expressed a lot without having to utter much else.

"Oh…Irish broads got some tempers, too." Anthony nodded. "I don't wanna keep you." He placed his hand on my shoulder, 'cause he's genuinely a nice-fucking-guy with no hidden agenda.

Dad sighed. "I need your blessing…my son needs to go out by you." That was news to me.

"The Skip—Cullen is asking me for a favor?" Maisano asked, looking proud.

My father grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sure I'll ask for another sometime soon. The missus and I plan to travel." He nodded. "Vegas is definitely a hot spot on the map. She's never been."

"Tell me when. Youse'll have it so good, your wife won't wanna leave," he laughed.

Dad clapped. "That sounds like a plan."

"Is there a problem with us going out there…for business?" Carlisle spoke up. "Technically, we don't need your permission, but with keepin' tradition—respect . . ." He trailed off.

My father turned to his brother, like he wanted to deck him. "What he means is . . . is because of our ties, our allegiance." That was a good save, although unnecessary. Carlisle was right.

Maisano widened his arms. "Whatever you need. I was under the impression I was here for a party . . ."

"I was just granted some very important information," Dad said. "Your presence—this new development, it's completely coincidental."

"I'm sure TJ and Santino can work it out." That was Maisano's way of bowing out of the conversation. I couldn't imagine why he would, though. If it wasn't safe to talk, Dad would have mentioned it.

"We can speak freely," Dad said. "I'd rather broker this, as you and I . . . We go back, just like our fathers before us." He trusts Maisano, not his sons.

"I'm all ears," Anthony said, sipping his drink.

"There's a person of interest…lives in Carson City. Santino and Aro would make sure it was taken care of . . . I need you to help with clean up…give my boys the lay of the land, hook 'em up with a few pieces _if_ they fly out there...I don't think flying is wise, though." He briefly looked over to Aro.

Maisano raised a brow. "This person…"

"Not connected. Used to work here at the club...for me." He pointed to himself. "Planted a Fed, fucking did a broadcast."

"Whoa . . . Like I said, anything to help," Maisano agreed.

"Well…" Dad looked to the ceiling. "It won't be quick. They'll have to sit on this person a few days—check 'em out."

"You can give me the name. Save Santino and Aro the trip," Maisano said.

I'm sure my eyes pleaded as I stared at my father.

At this point in time, I needed to head out to Vegas like I needed a fucking hole in the head.

"It could get ugly," Dad said. "And I'd rather—I'd feel a lot better having them go out there. Plus, it's not like you—whoever helped—would go uncompensated. That goes without saying."

Maisano looked to me. "You've worked with TJ before. Nicholas…he's still wet behind the ears, but he's useful." I thought it was pretty fucking cool, him letting us utilize his kids like that. But that just shows the level of trust on both sides.

"I also need—now this is imperative, im-fucking-portant." Dad leaned in closer. "Sonny and Aro need to sneak in. They cannot be seen arriving or leaving Nevada. There will be no partying, no celebrating their presence, no special treatment."

Aro snorted. "Like a ninja mission and shit."

We all shared a laugh.

"Best way around that . . . Their aliases take a flight out West, they disguise themselves. They make it to Arizona, and I'll have a whip waiting for them—fully loaded with whatever they'd need. You call me beforehand with what they want...Plus, there will be prepaid cells available...that's how TJ and Nicki will contact them."

"Sounds good," Dad said. "Anything seems off, though, they pull out—we forget it happened or was going to happen for the time being. Youse are still paid for your time."

"Whatever works for you." Maisano shrugged.

"I'll make arrangements and contact you—probably before you leave New York. In fact, you should come to my house tomorrow night. My wife's a great cook, makes a large spread for Sunday dinners. It'll give us a chance to chill and catch up—no business."

Maisano smirked at my father. "How old is your daughter? You tryin'a set her up with my Nicky? Actually, that'd be wonderful—a great merge."

"Kylie has a boyfriend."

"She's with Giovanni—my baby," Aro said.

"Eh…can't blame a guy for trying." Anthony smiled at me.

"Good try," I admitted.

Maisano laughed, looking back to Dad. "We good? Can I go party with that old fuck before he blows a gasket?"

My father threw his head back and laughed. "Yes, please, have fun. Keep Ed busy."

Maisano shook my hand, bid farewell to the rest, and then left the office.

I waited until I heard the door close to open my mouth. "Why me?"

"Because I trust you," Dad said, which would be an honor to anyone else. I didn't know if I should think it a blessing or a curse—actually having my father's trust. Although I know in my heart that the Skip doesn't fully trust anybody; he can't. Maybe my mother . . .

"Who is this?"

"This chick Heidi—she's in WitSec." He sipped his scotch. "I don't care who does what—how you and Aro work it out. You heard my instruction, and I'll get back to you—when you're leaving." He wiped his hands clean. "It's simple."

I held my forehead, chuckling without humor. "On top of all the shit I got on my plate—"

"Then a week away will be like a vacation." He shrugged.

"A whole week?" I asked in disbelief.

"However long it'll take—"

"I can't just slip away for a week!" I exclaimed. "And if you think I'm keeping this a secret from _my wife_, you're outta your fuckin' mind!" Just bouncing would the final nail in my coffin.

"Watch it!" Carlisle spat.

"No, for real." I widened my arms, not giving a fuck about my father's wrath or whatever. I didn't care what he thought, or what he'd do. "I'm busting my ass, for you, so you don't fucking have to—"

"Enough." Dad's tone was soft. "Just stop talking. You don't see him complaining?" He jerked a thumb to Aro.

"But you don't know what you're asking me to do—"

Dad smiled. "The honeymoon's over. The missus is reaming you a new one for working too much? We've all gone through that shit. It comes with the territory."

"Sonny, there's always an adjustment period," Aro said. "She'll understand or learn to accept it, and this too shall pass. But you're doing so well—"

"I'm practically running six businesses by myself. Keeping books, bets, bookies, and sharks in line. Everyone is paying who has to, and _everyone else_ is getting paid. I've done every single fucking thing you've asked me to do!" I stood up, making my chair fly back.

But I wasn't finished. "I've gone above and fucking beyond—_beyond_—to make up for the shit I did . . . And yet I hear I did you fucking favor in the long run? C-bag was talking to the Feds?!" I was livid, seeing red, not my father—I was unreasonable, no logic existed, because there was no pleasing this man.

"Delegate—"

I groaned. "If I hear that word one more fucking time!" I banged my fist down onto the desk. "You know better than I do. There's only so much others can do before shit gets mixed—fucked in some way. Too much cash is spread around, goes into too many hands, someone fucks up, gets pinched...Shit is too hot right now. We can't afford any more screw ups. You wanna run a sloppy ship? By all fucking means."

"Are you finished?" Dad asked, the picture of calm.

I bit my tongue, my lip to stop myself from smiling, only there was abso-fucking-lutely nothing to be happy about.

Yet, with Carlisle and Aro flanking my father, him sitting behind that desk, they were all in form—formal.

Me, being on the other side of the desk?

I had to wait, like an asshole—like some regular Joe-Schmo Schmuck—to be dismissed.

The Skip's always so concerned about respect, but this was the biggest slap in the face…treating me like a nobody.

Meanwhile, I couldn't even describe how I felt inside. Angry, pissed, just didn't seem to cover it. Honestly, I don't think I'd ever been this heated before in my life. Nope, not ever. I was vexed to the point of immobilization, afraid to move.

And my father's face was blank . . .

He's seen me struggling, saw—likely felt—all the animosity and tension between Maggie and me. He knows I'm holding on by a thread.

And he didn't look like he gave a fuck—not at all.

Not as my boss.

Not as my fucking father . . .

You'd think as my dad he'd care, pull me over to the side, and tell me something encouraging. And as my boss...Well, if I was him, and I saw how much I was doing, nearly floundering with it all, I'd show concern. I'd want to step in and help before there was some major fuck up.

He wants to see me fail.

He says he cares, but he doesn't give a flying fuck...the cold bastard.

"You can go." He held my gaze.

I didn't move . . .

I wasn't sure if I could move . . .

"Come on, my dude." Aro slapped his hand onto my shoulder. "Let's get a drink."

"I'm not thirsty." I cleared my throat, managing to place one foot in front of the other. Aro needed to get his fucking hands off me. "I'm cool." I shrugged him away, heading for the door.

"Sonny," my father called.

I kept my back to him.

"Turn around."

I whipped to him. "Yes?" I placed my hands in my pockets; they were shaking, and I didn't wanna seem weak...showing my temper even more.

"I have a few more people to sit with. Keep an eye on Dame." Dad placed his cell to his ear.

Without another word, I left the office, and if I had it my way, I'd be leaving Eclipse in less than sixty seconds. Not wanting to see anyone, I left out the back door—completely avoiding my grandfather and all those fucking guests—other family members from different states—who were only there to see what they could squeeze outta the Skip or vice versa. They weren't here to celebrate Ed Sr. at all. His presence was an excuse to convene—throw a huge bash—where mostly business would be conducted, which was why I had to be here.

Out the back exit, I just kept on going, not looking up, not giving a fuck . . .

"Calling it a night?"

I groaned, turning to Dame. "Yeah…I'm leaving. Have a good time." I bit that shit out through gritted teeth.

"Whoa…" He sprinted out to me. "What's the matter?"

"I can't tell you."

"Right." He held his lips. "Want a cigarette?" He tossed me one.

I threw it onto the ground because . . . I didn't want a cigarette.

I wanted something else.

Still aggravated and now . . . just fucking . . .

I stretched and cracked my neck, turning it each way, feeling an annoying tingle in my spine.

"You can talk to me."

I shook my head. "No, I can't." I basically couldn't talk to anyone. It's not that I don't trust Dame, I really do, but he's not even the slightest bit involved now.

"It can't be that bad," he said. "Things always come up rosy for you. I mean—"

"Shut up!" I snapped. "You're so . . . Stop worrying about what I have or what I do. For the last fucking time—and do yourself this favor—focus on yourself! Worry about Damion!"

He took a step back. "Sonny—"

"No, you wanna know the truth? It hurts. And your life is so simple, too. What the fuck, bro? Stop being such a pussy—" I bit my tongue again. "And I don't mean in the way," I chuckled, racking my brain, "pistol-whipping motherfuckers, throwing punches . . . The shit I do?" I pointed to myself. "That doesn't make you a man, or a tough guy. Just become a free-fucking-thinker! Be loyal to others, and most of all, to yourself. That's it."

"You don't know—"

"What _don't_ I know?" I laughed. "Damion, you're in one of the best medical programs in the country. You dodged a loaded fucking gun breaking things off with Amelia, and with Dad telling you to back off—stay out the business. Things are looking up for you, you're happier, making leaps and bounds, and you met this cool chick who you can connect with . . . And you wanna know why? Because you haven't been around in a fucking month. What does that tell you?" I ranted. "Go—get the fuck away from here while you still can!"

He stared at me, lighting another cigarette. "You're right."

I huffed a breath. "Am I, though?" Ever since he's a kid, he believes in everything I say. Why? Who the fuck was I?

Damion opened his mouth to say more, but his phone rang from his pocket—that old song, Gangnam Style, blaring from it. "Kylie picked her own ringtone." He placed the phone to his ear. "Hello? . . . What's going on?"

I took the smoke away from him, inhaling deeply, hoping the nicotine did whatever the fuck it's supposed to do—its job.

"In the back of Eclipse—smoking a cigarette with Sonny."

That's when I remembered Kylie was at my crib, so I paid attention to their conversation.

"Funny cigarettes…? Oh, no…just a cigarette . . . Okay."

"What's going on?" I asked.

"What?" Dame furrowed his brow.

"What's my wife doing?" I sighed, wondering if she was plotting my death. Then I smiled to myself, 'cause it's always the quiet ones . . .

"Sonny wants to know what Maggie's doing?" There was a long pause, and I heard my sister bitching about something. "Kylie says she's fine. She's lotioning her feet or some shit."

"Cool." She already has the softest feet, I thought. And I love it when they're cold. She rubs them along my calves for warmth.

"What did you wanna ask me?" he asked her. "Cut the bullshit . . ." There was another pause. "You mean roll it?" he laughed, turning to hit my arm. "You got rolling papers somewhere at your house, bro?"

"For who? Mom? She's still there?" She's the only person who . . . Unless Kylie somehow got her hands on some pot. Then I wondered if they were going through my shit. The weed at my house isn't mine. It's Dad's, and I just haven't had the opportunity to give it to him or Mom. There were too many people at the crib earlier. But no. Even Maggie doesn't know about the loose brick in the basement, where I'm ironically hiding a brick of marijuana.

"No, just Kylie and Maggie from the sound of it."

"What the hell are they doing?" I laughed, wondering how out of it they were—how someone wouldn't know how to roll a joint . . . They manage to get weed, but they can't figure out how to smoke it? By now, I didn't know whether to think it funny or sad.

"Kylie has weed—they wanna smoke it." Damion rolled his eyes. "Oh, tell Maggie to get out her bible. That paper rolls great—"

"Gimme the fuckin' phone." I stole his cell away. "Hello?"

"Hi," Kylie said.

"Put Maggie on." No disrespect to my sister, but my wife was the smarter of the two, and my temper couldn't handle speaking to Kylie right now.

"Hey." My wife's tone was soft, somber.

"I'm so happy to hear your voice," I admitted. "I just . . ." I turned away from my brother, wanting to unload—speak to my wife—but then I decided against it. I'd lick my wounds and she can hold me together when I get home. "You guys having fun? Gonna smoke?" I disguised my voice best I could.

"Yeah," she whispered. "It wasn't my idea."

"No matter . . . just . . . have fun." I shrugged, knowing she needed to have some—more so than me. "I don't have any rolling papers." And I was sure they probably wouldn't be able to roll any-fucking-way. "There's a bong in the hall closet—the green thing."

"Where is it?"

"It's in a box—under the shelf with those old sheets. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah." She sounded happier. "Yeah, I remember seeing that in the hall closet. We can use that…?"

"Yeah, you put the weed in the metal pipe, and then light that like you would a cigarette—you hold the lighter to that—and you place your mouth in the top, that hole, and you suck the smoke out that way. But you need to add water—"

"Okay. How much water?" she asked.

"Just enough to fill the bowl—the glass bottom," I said, feeling myself calming down as we spoke about that dumb shit.

"Maybe I should write this down," she mumbled.

I sighed. "I wish I was there with you. I'd show you—smoke with you." Last time I offered her some, she refused to smoke, and yet she wanted to do it with Kylie. I was agitated and jealous again. It wasn't fair. "This shit is boring. I'm just here with my brother. I'm outside with Dame, away from the crowd—"

"If it's boring, then why don't you come home?"

"Please. I'll be home soon. Just don't—you know." I cringed, wanting to get off the phone. "Don't give me shit, bust my balls. I'll be home in—"

"It's not my intention to give you shit. I hope you're having a good time, but you're saying you're bored. You could come home. That's all . . ."

"I am...on my way." I gritted my teeth. "And tomorrow's Sunday—"

"Yeah, tomorrow's Sunday, but you're going to sleep all day. Or, to stay awake you'll do that stuff, and I hate it when you—"

"Shut the fuck up about that already!" My blood boiled. "Jesus Christ almighty. What's wrong with you? How many fucking times do we have to discuss it, huh?" I screamed at her.

"You're not even working—that's why I have a problem, and you've been seeing your grandfather every day, and if it was a real party, we'd all have been invited. You're up to no good, hyper. I can hear it in your voice—you did that stuff . . . I didn't call to fight with you. In fact,_ I_ didn't call _you_ at all!" She hung up on me.

"Bitch!" I threw the phone away from me. It hit the brick side of the building, crashing down into pieces. "That fucking bitch!" I balled my hands into fists, my body stiffening.

"Sonny!" Damion widened his arms, coming toward me. "What is wrong with you?"

I shook my head, sucking my upper lip into my mouth.

"That was _my_ phone by the way. Mine," Damion said. "Swing at me if you want . . . but I can't imagine anything she said warranted that response. You were such a prick."

"Yeah, 'cause you think she's Saint Margaret," I laughed. "She's a ball-buster-and-a-half, and she drives me insane!" I cringed, stiffening.

"'Cause you love her." He rocked back on his heels. "If she didn't bust your balls . . . I mean, if she didn't care where you were or when you'd be home . . . It could be worse."

"Just don't get married," I said. "Pussy is exponentially better when it has no face. You hit it, and then you're ghost. You fill that need, get that release, and then you bounce. I had a system for how many fucking years? Never steered me wrong. Now…?" I had to stop grinding my teeth or else I'd crack a tooth.

"You don't mean that," he whispered.

"Right now? I do. Or, marry a woman you don't love. You have a nice home life, do what you want on the side, and she pops out kids when you want them . . . Maybe there's a method to that madness."

"You, um, you want me to get Dad?" he asked.

"Fuck no. If you can, keep that motherfucker away from me." I walked back to Eclipse.

"I thought you were leaving?"

"You thought wrong." I opened the door. "This is my club. I'mma have some fun."

"Sonny . . ." He furrowed his brow, staring at me.

"Would you like to join me?" I asked.

"I . . . all right." He took the door from me.

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

**DAMION**

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

My brother did own the place. He walked right in, demanded attention, and sat his big ass down at the main table—right in front of the stage. The women flocked to us, and we'd all put money in their g-strings.

Every time Sonny would do it, I'd cringe, though. It was just wrong—when my brother doesn't have a dishonest bone in his body. Maybe being with the strippers _used to_ make him happy.

But no matter how they danced for him, swung from the pole, or smiled at him . . . He was fucking miserable.

Sonny needed to go home, and like all those times before . . . when he'd have my back, I was going to have his.

"I haven't seen Sonny with a harem in ages," Anthony—my cousin—said. We were getting along, and we hadn't uttered a word about Thanksgiving or the shit I did. Things weren't exactly back to normal yet, but we were speaking.

"Yeah…he's going through some shit. Can you get your dad?" I asked.

"_My_ father?" He placed his hand on his chest. "Carlisle?"

"There's…Sonny and my dad…I don't know what's going on. Just…tell Carlisle to come out here, get those sluts away from my brother."

"Sluts? Look at you with the moral high ground." He chuckled.

"It's not—" I shook my head, and maybe I shouldn't give a fuck—let Sonny do whatever he wants—but I couldn't.

"I'll scoop my pops but you talk to him. I'm not playing telephone." Ant left the table.

I nodded, turning my attention back to my brother.

"What's your name?" Sonny asked the dancer in his lap.

"Bunny." She ran her hands around his neck and shoulders. And she was someone new they just had coming in for the night, because they needed more talent for the huge party.

"Well, why don't you _hop_ on over there." Sonny tucked a c-note into my jacket. "This is my brother, Damion."

I leaned back, allowing Bunny—the platinum blond—access to grab the money. Then she started grinding on me, as she got down on her knees.

"This is like…being on a diet and being at a buffet," he said in my ear, and Bunny unzipped me.

"Whoa!" I stopped her.

"I gave her hundred bucks. Let her do her thing!" he shouted over the music. "It's on me."

"I'm good," I told Bunny.

She _hopped_ back onto Sonny's lap, and he wasn't really crossing that line . . . that hazy, faded line that tossed him into Cheatersville yet.

"On a diet, at a buffet?" I asked.

My brother took something out of his pocket—a small, white bag—and then he emptied some coke onto Bunny's tit before he snorted it off.

My mouth made an "O" shape. It was like a train wreck, and I couldn't look away, and yet I wasn't sure if that line was crossed yet . . . but it went up Sonny's nose.

Sonny, my brother, was out of control, and I had no idea what had happened to him, or how to stop him.

"Woo!" He shook his head, sniffling. "You want?"

"Nah, I'm cool." I waved a hand. "You realize…you have a three course meal, from like…a five-star restaurant that you _can_ eat at home, right?"

Maybe I had no room to talk because I'd technically cheated on Amelia. But Sonny was married. Amelia and I were on our last thread, all we needed to do was actually break up. I didn't feel guilty about what I did, but Sonny was gonna want to kill himself in the morning...if he continued down this path. I fucking knew it in my heart. Maybe once upon a time he dug all these women, but Sonny's loyal to a fault. He'd never do Maggie dirty in his right mind.

What happened to my brother? Where was Sonny? His body was here, but...

"Lose the buzzkill, baby." Bunny stared at me and rubbed Sonny over his slacks.

My brother grasped her wrists, which made her yelp in surprise. "Get off me," he told her. "Get the fuck off me!" Sonny picked her up and placed her on the stage.

Her wide eyes landed on me, and I bet she wondered what she'd done wrong . . . Bunny just went too far.

I nodded, tossing the last twenty I had over to her. "You did good." I winked as she scrambled away, collecting herself.

I had faith . . . I _knew_ he'd come to his senses.

"What's going on?" Carlisle stood to my side.

Neither one of us said a word to him.

"Dude." Our uncle slapped his hand onto Sonny's shoulder. "He's testing you."

"God?" my brother laughed.

"Fuck no!" Carlisle shouted. "Your father. I'm telling you now . . . You need to slow your roll. I don't know what's up with you lately." He massaged Sonny's shoulders. "Chill out. There's only so many times you can shoot off with your mouth like that before he sons you. You feel me?"

"Sorry. Maggie just . . . she always says, um..." His face fell, and it didn't look like what Carlisle said was registering. He didn't give a fuck about that. I'm sure his head was full of all things Maggie.

"No, not your father," Carlisle continued. "Skip's testing you. Don't you realize that—God forbid anything happens—this is all yours? All of it—everything is yours, Sonny. He needs to know you can handle shit without him. That's why he's not offering you help. You need to come up with a solution—"

"I have to leave." Sonny stood up.

"No, stay—" Carlisle started, grasping his forearm. "A show's about to start in the private room—the big one."

"A show?" I'd never been here for a show before . . . and I had no more cash.

My brother sniffed some more shit off his pinky. "I can't stay." He pinched his nostrils, cleaning his nose.

"You sharing? Or you just greedy?" my uncle asked.

Sonny slapped the baggie of coke into his chest. "Knock yourself out."

"Bet." Carlisle wiggled a bill for a stripper's attention, and maybe he wasn't the best choice—to give my brother support or whatever. But he's another one who doesn't cross that line, gets a thrill and then goes home to his wife. "You staying?"

"I…" I looked around for Sonny, who was held up at the bar—Nunzio cornered him.

"Isn't that…? Oh, that's your little insurance policy." Carlisle pointed.

"My, what?" As I gazed around the dimly lit club, my eyes landed on my father. He had his arm around Dr. Cepeda—my teaching liaison, my dean.

"Damion!" my father shouted for me, calling me with his hand.

"Go!" Carlisle pushed me, and I scrambled to my feet—nervous as fuck.

It was my dean—the prestigious Dr. Cepeda, who could make or break my career. He told me . . . one more wrong move, and I was outta there. My grades, my performance were stellar. It was being tardy and being absent . . . not showing up when I was working for Dad, when I was acting like a lunatic . . . then I was in the hospital . . . I thought I was done. But being that I was in the hospital, Dr. Cepeda cut me some slack—talked to Dad—and I was granted one more chance.

"You know Kevin, right?" Dad asked, his arm still around him.

"Dr. Cepeda." I shook his hand, and I'd only spoken to him a select few times. "I hope you're having a good time."

His eyes followed some woman who passed us.

"Sweetheart!" Dad flagged her down, and she happily sidled up to him. "Kevin, this is my close, personal friend. I'd like you to meet..." He had no idea who she was.

"Brenda." The redhead smiled, introducing herself, while Dad whispered something in her ear. "A doctor? Wow."

"Well…" Dr. Cepeda—the middle-aged, fat and balding nerd—flushed crimson. That's all he was. He wasn't prestigious—maybe a genius with a good tenure plan, but pussy blinded him just like the other saps here.

"Weren't you just sayin' you didn't feel good?" Dad asked Brenda, sipping his drink, a troublemaking smirk lighting up his face. He wears that expression when he plays Devil's advocate.

She held her hand to her forehead. "I do feel feverish." And I bet she had the chills. She was as naked as the day she was born...tits and ass all out, and she had a fucking body and a half...and she wore hot pink stilettos.

_I love pink stilettos._

They're so naughty, like hooker-wear or some shit, and yet they can be playful . . .

I shook my head and stared at her tits, afraid I was becoming a woman...because the pink shoes didn't go right with her flaming red hair.

If Jordan and I work shit out, I'm buying her a pair of those heels.

_Trust. _

She'd never wear them outside, but I'd keep them in my dorm.

"You look a little under the weather," Dad said. "Doesn't she?" He jerked a thumb to her.

Dr. Cepeda studied her, becoming a flustered mess. "I, uh—"

"Do I feel warm, doctor?" Brenda placed Dr. Cepeda's hand on her tit.

"Yes, uh, you feel—" He kneaded her breast, as she nestled into his side. "You sure know how to throw a great party," he told my father.

"Oh!" My father shouted, grabbed ahold of Aro. "Get a picture of us...me and my friends." They weren't his pals.

Dr. Cepeda, Brenda, and my father were all smiles for this photograph.

"Have a good time." Dad shook his hand. "Private Room Three is vacant." He sent them along on their way.

I blinked, watching the mismatched couple leave toward the back.

"And that—" Aro placed his arm around me "—is how we just guaranteed your place in that fucking program. It's gonna be awesome having a doctor in the family."

Dad gave Aro a high five. "Yeah, we had a talk—about you being offered a residency right there at NYU, too."

"Um." I shook my head. "I'm really—since we, you and me," I waved a finger "since we forgot about that deal, I was hoping to do my residency at Hopkins." Ever since Jordan brought it up, I've been learning toward surgery, too. The more I observe, spend time in the operating room, I find myself wanting it more and more. I just haven't figured out which surgical specialty.

Sonny was correct—NYU is one of the best schools, and they have a great surgical residency program.

But New York is filled with too many ghosts of my past, along with my family, and a million other things that can distract me.

Although Jordan hopes to stay right here, be offered a spot at NYU.

But I can't base my decision off what she does.

If I was at Hopkins, though, I'd be able to dedicate myself, only focus on that.

"Yeah, but you're already set at NYU. That's the most logical, simple path." Dad hit my shoulder and started laughing. "That fucker's married . . . we have pictures. He's about to get laid, and she's a pro . . . she's not just a stripper." He cackled. "You're golden, so yeah. You don't gotta go to school tomorrow. Have fun, but be home in the morning—I mean it. Mom misses you." He ranted all that out, patted my back, and then walked off with Aro.

I . . . I didn't know what to think, and I didn't even get the chance to say thank you. They disappeared into the office again with a few people I didn't know.

That was when I saw my grandfather—in tit heaven. Next to him sat Maisano and his son Nicholas, who my cousin Anthony was chatting up. The old guys were elbow-deep in women, while Anthony and Nicholas were . . . otherwise occupied.

"Huh…" I wasn't going to disturb what was going on over there.

And then Sonny walked by me . . .

"Hey." I grabbed his arm.

"I really gotta go." He was hyped up—no longer angry but very antsy.

"You checking out that show thing?" I scrunched my nose. "What is that?"

"Live lesbian porn." He patted my back. "Take pictures—"

"Seriously?" I shouted. "Grandpa's gonna miss that? I mean, lesbians…fucking? Naked? Live?" I spluttered.

If I could, I'd ask for lesbians for Christmas—two: a brunette and a blond, fucking under the tree. Shit don't work out with Jordan, and I'm still single, I know what I'll put on my list next year.

"Look at you—so cute, getting all excited. Go to the show, live a little, Dame." He shook his head. "It'll go on all night." Sonny turned from me again.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Home . . . I gotta . . . I gotta talk to Maggie—come clean."

"Whoa! Come clean about what?" I asked.

"Just…tonight. Nothing feels right. I—I—" He was all fucking torn up and agigtated. "What was I thinking?"

"You didn't do anything!" I shook him. "Don't tell her shit. Are you kidding? You're going to ruin everything 'cause a naked lady sat in your lap? Bro, that's fucking dumb. You didn't fuck her. You didn't even kiss her. You hardly touched her, and you did nothing wrong—nothing happened. If you tell Maggie, it'll only make _you_ feel better...for like a second until she flips. Then..." I shrugged. "Don't tell her shit."

He licked his dry lips. "I need a drink. You need a drink?" he asked.

"Yeah." I nodded. "Let's have a drink." My arm wrapped around his shoulders, ushering him toward the bar. "We'll have a drink, check out this show, and I'll find you a Xanax or a Valium. Someone here has to have a downer—"

"I don't wanna see the show. I wanna go home. What's Maggie gonna do? She ain't gonna do nothin'. She's stuck with me. I'll eat shit for a week." He shrugged me off.

I growled, ready to lose my patience.

But when shit was really bad, did Sonny give up on me?

Well . . .

But that was after I'd taken advantage of him for nearly twenty-four years, my whole life.

And I really wanted to see this show . . .

Sonny had already made his way to the door, was bullshitting with Momo, and I really was happy—happy that Sonny couldn't walk five feet without someone demanding his attention. That's gotta be annoying.

Unfortunately, when I approached him this time, he almost took a swing at me. "If another fucking person—" He groaned. "I'm out."

I cringed. "Motherfucker." I really wanted to see that show, but I followed my brother out of Eclipse. "Wait!"

He was getting into a taxi, and I had to run to catch up to them.

"Why you following me?" Sonny asked. "Bay Ridge," he told the driver.

The man up front turned back to us. "I don't leave Manhattan. Sorry."

"Excuse me?" Sonny asked. "You can leave Manhattan for me." The look he gave the driver must have been menacing enough, or he recognized my brother, but he started fucking driving.

I relaxed back.

"I don't need a babysitter," Sonny said.

"Obviously, you do." I snorted. "Look at you." He even had fucking lipstick on his shirt. "Switch shirts with me." I started to unbutton my jacket.

"Why? Your shit'll be tight—"

"You got makeup on you!" I shouted. "Help me, help you." I repeated Sonny's words.

He grumbled, listening to me, and we exchanged our shirts in the back of the cab.

"You don't gotta do this. I understand, and I appreciate it—"

"I'm doing it for me," I lied, hitting his arm. "So, one time, I can say I helped you." I really did owe him. "She—Maggie chose you, bro...Out of everyone in the world, Maggie chose you, and she's fucking amazing. Don't fuck that up."

"Amazing." He scoffed.

"You're gonna tell me she's not?" I asked. "You're just lying to yourself. For whatever reason, you wanna stay pissed . . . I don't know. Dad fucked with your head somehow, but Unc said he's testing you . . . How many times have you told me? Don't let shit go to your dome. Acknowledge it, accept it, work it out the best you can, and keep your fucking nose clean."

He jerked his head, hissing out something I didn't get.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm more scared she'll know I'm high . . . not so much how I got there." His leg bounced. "I've been going for so long . . . Then all day, all fucking day there's something wrong. I worked, made dinner, was around the fam—I was chill but only to a certain extent. But I was buggin', my emotions everywhere, and then Dad has to..." He groaned, biting his fist and stiffening. "I fucking…I didn't do any blow…then I did…I feel guilty…but I feel right…and that's—that—"

"That's called addiction," I whispered. "You were jonesin' all day—"

"No," he said.

"How long you been…trying to keep up with it all? Since Christmas?"

"Before that." He nodded, doing a drum solo with his thumbs. "I have bags all over—hidden in some places."

"Tell me where…I'll get rid of them." I cleared my throat, my heart breaking for the second time today. "What about rehab? You go in for a month, nobody has to know, you'd come out healthier than ever—"

"What?" he laughed.

"The program works if you work it."

"Do you hear yourself?" He busted out laughing. "I just…I need to detox. I've done this before," he admitted.

"You have?"

He nodded. "Back in college, and then…for like a few months last year. I get carried away, it gets to be too much, and then I stop."

"But that's still a pattern. You'll relapse again—"

"You're not understanding me," he said, scratching the inside of his ear.

I put my hands up. "I only work in an emergency room—one of the busiest in New York City—I know an addict when I see one."

"Shut the fuck up with that! You sound like—"

"She called you on it, didn't she?" I laughed. "Maggie's on your ass about this, and that's why you're so defensive. The woman—likely the only woman you've ever loved—despises the only substance you love. You're being torn apart . . . like you're with two women. That's why you're mad at her. That's why you wanted to hurt Maggie, to spite her—"

He yoked me up by my collar, slamming me back against the door. "Keep her name out your mouth, and don't talk about things you know nothing about."

"You wanna pull over? Duke it out?" I didn't give a fuck, would rather he took it out on me than her when he got home.

"She just doesn't understand." He sat back, letting go of me. "If she knew—"

"If she knew how much you needed it, how much you hurt without it, she'd understand?" I asked, my stomach rolling with nausea.

I've spoken to so many people in the ER, so many people in the psych ward that were in there because of substance abuse, or people who were using drugs to mask psychiatric ailments . . . Because of them, I knew his mindset, the thinking of an addict. "Maggie would be okay with you snorting a little bit of coke each day?"

He shook his head, staring out the window. "I've done this before. I just need a few days. It'll be hell. My temper's even worse coming off than while on...I get irritable as fuck, and Maggie might leave me before the end of it, but I'll clean myself up. Then I can start putting the pieces back together."

"But it's always there—at Eclipse, Midnight Sun. It's readily available. _Everyone_ does it, just not everyone has a problem with it. You do, and I'm urging you to recognize . . ." I narrowed my eyes. "I can't believe I spent so much time…being jealous of a fucking junkie?"

Saddened and disgusted didn't even cover how I felt right now. "You need to get your act together. If it's all yours when Dad's gone . . . Wait, it'll never be yours." I stared at him. "He'd sooner put a bullet in his junkie son, spare you and Mom the misery—fuck!" He punched me in my jaw. "Level with me, Sonny." I wiggled my jaw, tasting blood in my mouth.

"Level wit' you? Is that your way of saying you'll tell Dad? He knows the ass-end of a bender all-too-fucking well. Carlisle, too. It's hard—keeping up with everything."

"I'm in med school. You're gonna tell me what's hard? Let's see you get an A in Organic Chemistry . . . I bust my ass. Some days I'd look like I'd had my nose up a _Smurf's_ ass—snorting Adderall and shit!" I ranted. "But we're human beings . . . We can only handle so much. And I bet your wife, who loves you so much, is going out of her mind—heartbroken—all because she's worried. I don't even wanna know how much shit is on her plate. It might not be much, but don't you remember being a teen? The smallest thing felt like the end of the world? And she's got like…ten big things, plus your big, junkie ass, and midterms? Her parents—are they even speaking to her? Oh, no. Last I heard you wanted to get her knocked up."

I shut my mouth and threw myself back into the seat, thinking and knowing I'd said too much. Meanwhile, I was pissed after laying it all out, disgusted that he'd do that to her . . . Maggie, an angel.

"Look, regardless, you're still the most accomplished, admirable man I know," I said.

"Don't put me on some pedestal," he spat. "That's how you get hurt. The way you're looking at me right now . . . You're disappointed. But you're not a little kid anymore—to see me as perfect."

That was a bitter pill to swallow, 'cause I still had this overall image of him . . .

"I bandaged your scraped knees, I hid you when times got tough, was there for you when Dad wasn't . . . but that was a long time ago. What have I done for you since?" he asked.

"More than I can name," I whispered. "You're so used to—on top of everything else you do, all your work—taking care of me, that you don't even realize you do it."

"You were in the hospital, I was in Vegas getting married—"

"I'm twenty-four years old. I couldn't deal—binge drank for days straight. I knew I was going to fall, one way or another. Good for you, you did something for yourself." I shrugged.

"I still . . . no matter what you did. No matter how much I love Maggie, I can't hate you, and I still feel horrible about that. I was angry, and you were going through some heavy shit."

"I was wrong—flat-out fucking wrong!" I shouted. "Are you kidding?" Sighing, I still couldn't make heads or tails of the whole Maggie thing. But I knew—in my heart—that I didn't want him to fuck up what he had with her.

"You take care of me, you take care of Mom, Kylie, Maggie—you even care for Dad—more than you know. The big Skip . . . He'd be a lot less than he is now without you. Since the day you were born, you made him a better person. Mom said that. And nowadays, you run his business to the best of your ability." I shook my head. "But I don't drink anymore. I liked it too much…It was an escape I couldn't handle. Just like you can't handle the shit you're doing now—spreading yourself so thin. I love you, Sonny. I won't let you—" I stopped, feeling a tear fall down my cheek. "Got me crying and shit . . . I just wanna go back to my dorm. Fuck!"

Sonny laughed which—in turn—made me chuckle as well. "I'd rather hide at the dorms with my big titty girlfriend, too."

"But you have Little Miss Sunshine in a mansion by the water," I said. "And she's not unfortunate..." I held my hands out by my chest. "A fucking eleven on a scale to ten."

Sonny didn't react; he let me get away with that comment and gesture. "Maggie's gorgeous, but that's besides the point." He nodded, staring down. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me—"

"Then learn to put her first—put yourself first."

"Right." He rasped, and he looked a lot calmer now as we got off the highway in Bay Ridge. Sonny leaned forward to give the guy his address, and then turned to me. "You can stay on the couch."

"Will…Maggie mind?"

"No, you're family," he said. "Just keep a respectable distance away from her."

I chuckled. "I'll try—kidding." I didn't even wait for him to give me a look. "Just try to act like you're not…you know. Avoid eye contact. Don't get into it tonight—not if Kylie's there."

"No, I can't. I hate arguing with Maggie while Kylie's there. She jumps right in. It's insane—then I have both them fighting me."

"Jordan has no siblings," I said.

"Maggie's parents are buggin'...they refuse to let her little sister come over. They think Maggie will be a bad influence."

"She has a sister?" That was news to me, but then I remembered our conversation from the night we'd met. "Yeah..." I couldn't believe I forgot, not like it matters.

"I'm not even allowed to talk about it. It upsets Maggie to no end. Maybe that's how I can make amends? Get that old fuck to let...Mary-Jo chill with Maggie?" Sonny nodded.

"Back to me..." I waited for a second to see if he'd cut me off. "I really like Jordan . . . I don't know what to do next, but…"

"Just take it easy." He hit my arm. "Back off and let her come to you. Let her digest . . . what happened. It's a lot to swallow . . . I can school you on women, but do you want her to come back 'cause she wants to, or because you fucked with her head?"

I wasn't too proud to ask this, "Does it make a difference?" I looked to him. "No matter what I do—we work together. She's a woman. She's going to be analyzing every step I take."

He pointed at me. "Very true . . . Tomorrow, we'll go to the store. I'll get you a new cell phone."

"Thanks."

His crib was just as huge as I remembered, only it was dark now, and the stars were out . . . shining brighlt above the house, lighting up the clear sky, along with the moon.

"Take her up to the roof—talk."

"The roof?" he asked.

"The moon . . . where it all began." I left the cab, waiting for him to pay the driver. I had no cash. The dancers at Eclipse got all my money, and I'm not loaded.

Sonny left the car, stretching out. "I'm not going to tell her anything. It'll only needlessly hurt her—and I didn't do anything."

"Exactly." I nodded. "But you need to slow your words . . . relax."

"Right." He blew out a breath, staring at the empty Honda parked outside. "Where's the kid Gino?"

"Maybe he's inside—"

My brother sprinted up the walkway like mad man, and I took off for him.

"Hold up!" I spread my arms in front of his door. "What if he's chillin' with Kylie? What if he's down the block getting a BJ? You don't know." I rushed out, and then I fell back onto my ass.

Maggie had opened the door. "You're home."

"Yeah," Sonny said. "I missed you."

I got off the floor, brushing my slacks off, and standing between them. "Don't mind me."

"I missed you, too," she replied, as Sonny walked around me.

They ignored my presence; they only had eyes for each other. Sonny's were dark, dilated, and wide, while Maggie's were happy? Squinted and slanted with her own haze.

"BOO!" Kylie hopped out and pinched my butt.

"Quit." I smacked her hand away.

"You're my Damion." She stuffed a sandwich into her mouth, linking her arm with mine.

"I'm your brother."

"No," she sighed. "You're my brother, but you're still mine . . ." And she was correct, to an extent. "Have you ever had bologna and cream cheese?" She chewed and held it up to me. "Want...?"

"No," I laughed, seeing Gino passed out on the couch. "What happened?"

"We used the-the," she laughed her ass off, "the thing, but then Gino had more, so we smoked a, a blunt. And then I got hungry." She shrugged, walking away from me.

Looking back to my brother, he was cool—smiling down to Maggie adoringly. Well, she was cute—all giggly and yet starry-eyed. They were good, though.

"I thought he was an asshole, but he's cool." Kylie hit Gino with a pillow. "He can't hang, though. He passed out. We painted his toes." She pointed, and Gino did indeed have red toenails.

"Go get a marker. We can give him a mustache," I said.

Kylie gasped, shoving her bologna sandwich into my hand.

"Uh…we're gonna check out the roof, but then we'll probably go to bed," Sonny said, his arms draped over Maggie. She had her back to him, fucking beaming...

"I'm cool. If anything, I'll walk over . . . I gotta see Mom in the morning."

"Thank you." He nodded. "You put a lot into perspective for me, and I…"

I made a hand gesture, silently indicating he slow his words.

Maggie furrowed her brow. "A snake! I wanna make hand puppets. Kylie!" she shouted. "Find a flashlight!"

"Hell yeah!" she hollered back from somewhere.

"No," Sonny laughed. "Christ. You're so cute." He leaned in for it.

Maggie squealed and pushed him away playfully.

Then he chased her up the stairs.

I sighed, getting comfortable on the couch—at a crossroads. Half of me wished I was with Jordan at the dorms, that things were cool, but this . . . the other half wished I was still at Eclipse . . . watching live lesbian porn.

Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day . . .

Just like you can lead the horse to water and all that . . .

But Sonny would try to do it _all_ in one day, and I _would_ drink the water . . .

_Fuck me. _

I should have studied philosophy.

"We have to take pictures and send them to Li'l Eddie." Kylie tossed markers at me.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just because . . . trust me." She took her sandwich back.

Thinking of Li'l Eddie . . . I thought about my phone, or lack thereof, wishing I had an olive branch to give my uncle. "Give me your cell."

Kylie handed hers right over.

"I'm going to ask Uncle Carlisle to email me some shit. Don't get nosy." Just like he could text the pictures of that live action, he can send them through gmail, too...maybe he'll even hook me up with a video.

He'd do it. There'd be no more beef, and all would be good.

"You _have_ to tell me now," Kylie giggled, teeth full of cream cheese.

I chuckled. "You're a mess. From now on, just say no."

"Sonny has magic mushrooms." She was so high, I could probably sell her magic beans.

"Sonny has a lot of things . . . but never you mind." I finished my text to Carlisle.

"Damion, you're the smartest guy I know."

"Thanks." I took that as a compliment.

"So, I have to ask you something..."

"You're pregnant, and now you're full of pot?"

"No!" she laughed and then coughed, choking on her food. "Fuck. No, I'm not pregnant."

"Good." I nodded. "Ask away."

"Do you ever wonder what's beyond space?" She was serious.

"Outer space," I said.

"No." She waved a hand. "Beyond that . . . what's encasing space? Like, the space that's encasing the earth? There's just all this space out there . . . and, I mean, wow. I can't figure it out. I mean, why are we here? Do you think there's life on other planets?"

"Believe in God, don't get into science. You'll just confuse yourself."

She pouted. "You think I'm stupid."

"No, of course not. Keep talking—tell me what you think," I sighed, sitting back.

* * *

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**Curious about the Maisanos out in Vegas? They're characters from CaraNo's story, "Grand Tale" and its sequel "Grand Vendetta". I've recc'd it before, and if you haven't read it you're missing out. If you like Mobwards, check it out! Amazing stories. **

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Twilight - Rated: M - English - Crime/Family - Chapters: 12 - Words: 20,707 - Reviews: 1268 - Updated: 12-8-12 - Published: 11-17-12 - Edward & Bella

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	37. OOC

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**On with the show . . .**

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: OOC**

**EDWARD POV**

_**E**_ver since the day Kylie learned to talk, she has never stopped. My daughter has always been vocal about everything—from bitching, speaking for the sake of doing so, busting my chops, or . . .

She just talks a lot.

Well, she did stop. Kylie hasn't said a word today and it's noticeable, although she'll respond when spoken to. She didn't even tag along with Bella when my wife went to lunch with Maggie. Kylie doesn't need a formal invite to those things. She and Bella are attached at the hip, same goes with Maggie . . . the three of them.

However, I haven't so much as seen or heard from Sonny, and thus Maggie, since Saturday. I've been keeping shop at the Twilight club to give him space.

Even though, the past couple days, I heard he hasn't been around Eclipse or Midnight Sun all that often. It's his business, whatever. I'm just glad he listened to me—has taken a step back while also keeping shit in check.

It's possible, no matter how impossible he deemed it.

My son's upset with me—thinks I'm riding his ass or some bullshit—but I hope that our problems weren't being pushed onto the girls . . .

Then again, if that was the case, that'd create problems for Bella and Maggie, and those two are getting along just fine. My daughter-in-law hasn't been around my house either the past four days, when she'll usually pop by often, but that _could _be Sonny. He's not one to hold a grudge. He _is_ the type to just tell his wife not to come around anymore—just to be a prick.

Maybe Kylie is just depressed because we're going on vacation? That's probably exactly what it is. We've never gone away—on purpose, for pleasure—without her before. She's upset about not staying with Sonny and Maggie—that I knew. She bitched about it, yet she didn't make a big stink, which was a surprise.

I didn't know the reasons why. That's Sonny's house, he's married, and I can't make him look out for his sister. It's a douchebag move, but . . .

Kylie's going to stay with Carlisle and Alex—where we're heading now. Vito offered to take her, but I opted to do so. Kylie said good-bye to Bella earlier, and when we left, her mother was still out.

"I bet Mom stops by before we head to the airport tomorrow . . ." I trailed off, giving Kylie a fleeting glance. "Just in case, you know…" I wondered what was up with Maggie and Bella going to lunch so suddenly, too, and without Kylie.

"I hope you guys have fun," she whispered, and I waited for her smart ass, perverted remark to no avail. I left it wide open for her, for her to say some shit about me tapping—boinking her mother our entire time away.

Alas, the drive to my brother's house lasts two minutes at best. We could have walked, but driving is safer—especially since we were by ourselves.

I'm always overly cautious when it comes to my girls . . . overly concerned, too.

My bruisers are golden. While I'll worry about them as well, there's less to be concerned about with them—they're happiness. At the end of the day, Sonny and Damion are adults and can take care of themselves.

Me? Even if it's in passing or intentional, I always find myself surrounded by Bella, Kylie, and now Maggie on the regular, Alex too, and I just observe shit. I may not get into the gossip, but . . . I'm the patriarch of this family. It's my job to insert myself into shit.

Especially all things Kylie and Bella, which goes without saying. They're mine—belong to me, are _my_ problem so to speak.

"You okay?" I pulled up to the curb, turning to see Carlisle tossing a football around with the twins. It was a cute sight. "Yo!" I lifted my hand.

Carlisle gave me chin jerk.

"Kylie!" Blaze and Ronald shouted in unison. "Kylie, Kylie!" They ran to the car, opening the door for her.

"I have Hungry Hungry Hippos set up," Blaze said, pulling on her hand.

"Yeah, they're really-really hungry!" Ronald nodded.

"I bet they're starving-starving." My daughter pepped up a bit.

"They are."

"Mmmhmm." The boys confirmed, which made me chuckle. They were too cute for words, fucking adorable. I missed when my babies were that little. They're going to be five soon…I don't know when exactly. I'd have to ask Bella.

"Boys!" Carlisle gestured to the lawn.

"Look at you guys; you must be freezing." Kylie palmed their reddened cheeks. The twins were bundled from head to toe, though.

_And by this time tomorrow, I'll be sitting on a beach with a Corona. _

That thought alone made me smile to myself.

"Daddy said we had to play with him," Ronald whispered, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"We don't like football a lot." Blaze looked to the sky, thought about that for a second. "We like it a little bit—not a-lot-a-lot to play it."

I leaned over, waving a hand to grab their attention. "No love for Uncle Edward? What's good?"

They beamed at me and then faced each other before answering. "We're umcited to see Kylie." Blaze spoke for them both, Ronald nodding along.

"Excited?" I chuckled. "You're gonna take care of her while I'm gone?"

"Dad…" Kylie drew out my name.

"We will. We promise!" Ronald shouted.

"Let's go!" Carlisle hollered, tossing the ball into the air—playing catch by himself, yet his kids ignored him . . . so did we, Kylie and me.

"Can I have a dollar?" Blaze asked.

"What do you need a dollar for?" I raised a brow.

"'Cause like…I want one." He sorta sang, doing a little wiggle that reminded me of Dame.

"Me too." Ronald added.

"Get jobs," I said. "You'll make mad money."

"We're little boys." Ronald's hand went to his hip. "We don't got jobs."

"It's just a buck, Uncle Edward." Kylie smiled, and that was worth many more dollars.

I went into my pocket. "Right…But for a buck, I want a smooch and a hug from each of youse." I wasn't even sure if I had anything smaller than a ten on me.

"You don't have to pay them for affection," Kylie said. "They weren't raised by you…to do things for money." She left the car, walking onto the lawn. "I'll play." She opened her arms for the football.

"Kylie Cat enters the field!" Carlisle grinned, tossing it over. "Watch out now!"

My daughter giggled and almost missed, but she caught it awkwardly and then threw it back.

"Uncle Edward." Blaze held out his hand.

"Um." I cleared my throat, handing him a ten spot. "Split it—share it or something."

Like savages, they dove for the bill, fighting over who would hold it.

"Chill," I said, my previous amusement back for a second. "You guys should save it."

"We're gonna get candy," Ronald told me. "Mommy says, um, we can have more candy when we have our, like, own monies—" He grabbed it away from Blaze.

"She says that 'cause she don't think we can get money." Blaze stole it back, and that was a smart move. Shit. By the time Sonny's my age, they'll be his age—around it anyway—and they could be fucking lethal, the already witty pair. They're four, playing their mother. Even I wasn't that with it, scheming and shit as a toddler. I was actually precocious, like Dame as a kid, never raised hell until I was older, and for no good reason. Time and circumstances made me…what I am. "I wanna hold it!"

"We have to split it—"

"Share. Five dollars each." I left the car, fast to walk around it.

They forgot about the money, attacking my legs as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

I bent down to hug them both. "You guys make sure Kylie smiles a lot, okay?"

"Okay." Blaze kissed my cheek.

"You too." I pointed to my other one, looking to Ronald.

But then the jig was up, and they left me to fight over the money again.

Blaze tore the bill in half. "Here…five dollars!" He handed Ron's piece over to him.

"Yours is bigger!"

I didn't have the heart to tell them that it was worthless, no matter whose half was bigger. For the record, I said they were witty, not exactly intelligent.

There's a difference.

"Daddy, look-it what Uncle Edward gave us—just 'cause we was nice!" Ronald ran to Carlisle.

My brother placed the ball under his arm. "What's this?" He showed it to me.

I shrugged.

"Oh." He nodded, realization coloring his face. "Five dollars?" Carlisle smiled down to his sons. "I told you….you can't make change that way. I know it seems logical, but that's not how it's done." He held his hand out for the other half. "I'll hold it—tape it back together. When Mom goes grocery shopping, I'll give it back."

"Okay."

"Yeah, sounds legit." The twins came to a mutual agreement.

"Come here." My brother's face lit up, groaning and pulling them both into his arms, kissing their heads. "We ready to play?"

The boys expressed their dislike for football as I looked over to Kylie. "Can we talk a second?" I kept my tone hushed.

She slumped her shoulders. "What'd I do now?"

"Nothing . . . that I know of."

"Hey!" Alex shouted from the door, which caught our attention. "That's enough. Come inside. It's too cold."

"They're fine," Carlisle said. "They're tough. You're not cold, right?"

Blaze and Ronald shook their heads no.

"My babies are frozen," Alex insisted. "Come on…I have hot cocoa all ready."

The twins sprinted to the door, almost knocking their mother over to get inside.

"Yo…you got something hot and sweet for me?" Carlisle winked.

"Gag!" Kylie stuck her finger in her mouth.

"You know I do," Alex giggled. "Hey, Edward."

"How you doin', hun?" I jerked my chin.

"Fine." She nodded. "Make sure Bella takes pictures . . . If you two ever leave the room." She stuck her tongue out at Kylie and then went back inside.

"I'll…" My daughter started, pointing to the house.

"Wait," I said, looking to my brother. "Dad's all checked in and settled at The Gregory—room 207."

"Bet." Carlisle slapped his hand to mine, pulling me in for a hug. "Have fun…unwind, fucking relax. I got the call earlier, everything's set. I'mma tell Aro and Sonny tomorrow."

"Yeah…" I nodded, stepping back.

The hit on Heidi was to happen while I was gone—out of the country.

Inside, I was ecstatic to get away. I even wrote down a few things I wanna do outside the bedroom, shit I'd never done before because Bella's pussy was too important, or my kids were the priority—making _them_ happy while we were on vacation. I wanted to windsurf, charter a boat, deep-sea fish, or snorkel with Bella—do things a normal couple might. I didn't fucking know.

We have all this money . . . and we never do anything, always too busy maintaining, sustaining, taking care of others . . .

We needed this so fucking bad.

We'd earned it, although we were only going away for five days. Bella said we'd play it by ear. I let her make the travel plans, and then she books our getaway for less than a week.

I figured . . .

Who am I kidding?

I won't fucking snorkel.

My wife is still more important, and I wanted to make Bella come over and over and over again in a different country. Shit. If we can fuck on the plane, that'll be a plus. In fact, tomorrow afternoon felt like an eternity away. We have to be at the airport early, which goes without saying, but still . . .

If that Heidi shit isn't wrapped in five days, Bella and I will make a detour—do something.

"Bring me back a shot glass," Kylie said.

"Me too." Carlisle added.

My gaze fell to the ball. "What's up? You _making_ them play with you?"

My brother nodded. "They play inside all the time. They're babies and they're always on the computers, the iPads, playing video games, the Xbox . . . They're not fat kids or anything, but they need exercise—to play outside. We played outside, rode our bikes." He gestured between us.

I started laughing. "_I_ played outside, raised hell around the 'hood on my bike. You . . . you were always inside, on your computer or reading, you fuckin' nerd."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Kylie spoke up. "We can't all be as cool as you."

"Regardless," Carlisle interjected, "being outside for a minute with me isn't going to kill them. They need to learn sports and shit. I dunno. I play on the computer with them, too . . . I mean, my vampire-son, Edward, won't leave his bedroom at all, it seems, except to feed." He hit my arm, smirking. "And I never played catch with Anthony."

"It's just important you play with them—doesn't matter what. And just because—_I think you know already_—you didn't play with Ant, played football . . . Well, it doesn't mean anything." Kylie got defensive, sounding like her mother, but refused to spell it out, afraid. She was frightened of the subject matter; I could feel it rolling off of her.

"He knows, baby girl. Relax," I said.

"That's not what I'm saying." Carlisle shook his head. "I don't know _what_ I'm saying." His face fell.

Kylie looked relieved. "I find it refreshing…I love gay people, homosexuals, by the way. I almost wish I was one, just so I could be different." She shrugged. "Yeah, I'd like to be a gay man. I have a lot in common with them." I think her thought ran away from her, or . . . "I mean, I'd still be me…but I'd have a thing."

My brother and I shared a look, neither of us commenting—going to touch that.

"Didn't mean…have a thing, like a peen. I meant…crap." She snorted. "That's funny. But I meant, like, be different."

"I get it." I wasn't sure that I truly did.

"A shtick?" Carlisle asked.

"Not a dick." Kylie shook her head.

"I didn't—"

I placed my hand on Carlisle's arm. He needn't bother to explain that.

"Nothing matters, though." She looked depressed again. "He was born that way—lucky—it wasn't something you did. Anthony's happy . . . you should just be happy for him." Kylie went to walk into the house again.

"Wait," I said.

She turned, standing at attention but looking away from me.

"I am happy for him," Carlisle said. "As a parent…The way his future is looking, him being what he is, as _openly_ as he is, isn't going to be easy." He spoke of Ant's involvement. "I'm worried."

"About what?" Kylie was interested now.

"All right." I gave Carlisle a pound, and he got the memo, disappearing into the house.

My gaze fell on Kylie. "Can we talk?"

She shivered. "Can we sit in the car?"

"Of course." I used the remote to open the door, and then we both got in. "What's going on?" I turned to face her.

"Nothing." She bit her thumbnail.

"Are you sure…? If something's bothering you—"

"I'd talk to Mom, but nothing's wrong," she whispered.

"You can talk to me, too. I mean, it feels like you're mad at me."

It always comes in pairs it seems. If things are going well with one of my children, the other two hate me, or vice versa. My relationship with Damion is better than ever, while Sonny hates my guts . . . It bothers me that he can't separate. He used to be able to, able to understand and roll with the punches. When I'm at Eclipse, Midnight Sun, or we're sitting down in that capacity, I'm not his father. I'm his boss.

"I'm not . . . I hope you and Mom have a great time." She grinned at me, but it seemed fake—something off with it.

"Kylie…" I shook her gently, trying to shake the truth out. It usually works. I never have to twist her arm to voice a damn thing, though. "What's going on, Ky?"

"I'm…I'm boring. My life is boring. Nothing is wrong." She kept her head ducked.

"You're not boring." I scoffed. "Far fucking from it."

"I am . . . I'm like…a goody-goody. I'm about as edgy as a butter knife, Daddy." She turned to me with watery eyes, and she was serious.

"Um…" I thought it was something heavy, like she was depressed about Gio, upset about Mom and me leaving . . . the on-going conflict in the Middle East.

"I've literally done nothing. Nothing. I have no life experience. I'm immature. I see that now…I'm not at the same level with my peers."

"Well . . . Kylie, don't take this the wrong way, but you _are_ a fucking baby. You're young. You have your whole life to…spice it up." I shook my head. "There's nothing wrong with being good—a good person."

"I'm not saying that." She sniffled. "I know I'm a good person. I'm a goody-two-shoes, like Grandpa said."

"Why are you listening to him?"

"Because—"

"Because nothing." I palmed her cheek. "Don't put stock into that—consider the source." My father still has his wits, but fuck that. "You trust me, right?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

"I say you're interesting—one of the most interesting people I know, and you . . . you're sharp, you have an edge. But seriously, tell me what's really wrong."

She widened her eyes. "That's what's wrong."

"Oh…"

"Maggie and I are fighting, too." She pursed her lips. "We're getting on each other's nerves. She thinks we spend too much time together, but sometimes I just wanna knock her one." She furrowed her brow. "You know? Just punch her in the face."

I bit my lips to stop from smiling.

"But I love her . . . She's not doing anything wrong…I don't understand."

"Well," I cleared my throat, "you grew up with two big brothers. You know how sometimes you wanna deck Mom?"

She nodded. "It's the same thing. We're like…Maggie's like my sister. No matter how annoying, I still love her, and I'd never…Um. Well, I did hit her, but don't tell Sonny; he'd be mad at me." She looked out the window. "She got over it…like Jesus, she forgave me." She groaned, covering her face, cringing into her hands.

"Even fucking Maggie!" she shouted. "The Once Virgin Mary has more swag than I do…man!" Kylie sucked her teeth, sitting back. "I feel bad for her, but I'm also jealous. We're always together, and if a guy walks by or is around, they check her out…and she's married, and I don't think she's prettier than me. I don't know. What do you think?"

"You're gorgeous." I chuckled. "You also know that. Maggie's cute, but she ain't got shit on you." I didn't know what to say.

"Stop." Kylie's face flushed; I made my daughter blush, which was adorable.

"You have plenty of swag. As for dudes, I don't know." I didn't want to say that, hitting on, checking out Sonny's wife wasn't as bad as scoping the Skip's daughter—wasn't as feared.

They're together but they don't leave the 'hood. Everyone knows Kylie, who she is, who her father is. "Your friend's just…had a lot of growing up to do lately because of the choices she made—"

"Why is that?" She turned to me again. "You were going to stop my wedding…Sonny knew better and he…he condemned her in a way." Her lip quivered. "You guys did nothing. Ugh. So, while I'm happy she's who she is—my sister-in-law, and I love Sonny more 'cause he gave me a sister—I feel bad for my friend, even if a small part of me wishes I was her. Well, not _her_—just interesting. Everybody changed and I stayed the same."

I sighed. "They flew out to Vegas…Once it was done, all that was left to do was be happy for them. We couldn't change what they did. Do you understand that?"

She nodded.

"Personally . . ." Words failed me.

At the end of the day, Maggie wasn't my daughter. Sonny wanted her, and I wanted Sonny to be happy. They love each other and all that. Despite their age difference, they truly have a bond, a strong love for one another. I've also grown to genuinely care for my daughter-in-law, and I see Kylie's point. Nowadays, Maggie gets shuffled in with the rest...who I look out for.

However, I would never let Kylie marry someone like Sonny—like myself.

"You're proud of him," she said. "You may not admit it, but he's…he's turning out just like you . . . You think Damion is more like you, but that's not true. Sonny is Skip Jr. to a T . . . Mom said that."

"She did?" I asked.

"I told you…I spoke to Mom already, but I still feel icky."

"What'd Mom say?" I pushed her hair behind her ear.

"She thinks you guys messed up, as parents…" She bit her bottom lip. "You guys gave Damion and Sonny a lot more freedom—"

"Stop." I put my hand up, having heard that a million times already.

"See?" Suddenly she was bawling. "You won't let me live!"

"No!" I barked. "Geez. That's not what I'm saying. I'm sorry." I yanked her into my side as she cried. "Baby girl, just ride out the winter and get through the spring. Summer comes around, Gio's coming back. You guys'll be down at the shore, you'll get ready for college…things'll be different." I nodded, kissing her hair. "I promise."

"Swear it." She held up her pinky.

"Swear." I grabbed hers with my own, pulling her hand up to kiss it. "I swear it. You have to understand…It's not what you think, baby. I'm sorry for the choices I made—that it's not safe for you." I gave her a squeeze. "Please understand that. You know a lot more than I ever flat-out told you...calling me Skip to boot. You _see_. You have your mother's intuition…you just know things. I have enemies…some I can see, some…hey, I'd rather make you just a little bit miserable now than—God forbid."

"I can't even smoke weed," she sobbed.

"What?" That came from left field.

"I had some, and I didn't know what to do with it."

"Well…" I was torn, 'cause it's Kylie, and my mindset _is_ different when parenting her. But this was my chance to be a cool dad. After all, I've smoked with Sonny and Damion. I've done a lot of shit I'm not proud of alongside Sonny. "Um…you smoke it."

"I knew that…but we were running around trying find ways to do it. We found Sonny's bong."

I smiled. "Cool."

Overall, I was proud—not about the weed—but that I had a child, who at nineteen, hadn't so much as been exposed to marijuana. When the other two . . . maybe not Damion. He's only gotten into shit the last few years, but Sonny…? It's not even drugs or anything. He was into things adults would be, just knew shit, just got into everything and anything from when he was young. Now _he's_ a quick-witted and intelligent motherfucker.

So, I saw it as a good thing that Kylie was, as she said, a goody-goody.

But…was it the right thing for her? To have sheltered her?

I felt like I was between a rock and hard place.

And Bella thinks we did wrong . . . possibly that we didn't let nature take its course.

"Then we asked Gino how to use it…but now Gino's not allowed to drive Maggie anymore." She sniffled. "I feel bad . . . we did that, got him fired."

"He didn't get fired," I laughed. "Sonny probably has him doing something else."

"Mom thinks I'm sad because of that—because he's not around anymore either, that I miss Gio and Gino, that I'm masking that with my bullshit problems, but I'm not—I swear."

"Whoa…back up." I lifted her face to see her. "You…had a thing with Gino?"

"No…I thought I liked him, but I don't. It was a crush. I'd never, you know, do that to Gio. I love him." She sobbed harder. "He was just so cool, but Mom made me feel worse about it…I'm mad at her, too. 'Cause she said my problems were bullshit."

"What else did Mom say?" My wife is usually right on the fucking money, which is why Kylie wants to be angry with her—will be mad at Bella because she doesn't wanna say, "You're right, Mom."

"She thinks I have a thing for…for…forget it." She sat up, backing away from me.

"Tell me…talk to me." I turned the engine over to get some heat on. "I have time." And I did.

Dropping her off now was her choice. She wanted to be here for dinner, having called Alex to ask what they were having. Roast beef was better than the sandwich Bella told Kylie to make—since she was going out and would be packing later. Fuck. I should stay here for dinner, too.

"This is so embarrassing." She grumbled. "She said most girls—women—are attracted to guys who remind them of their dads, which is just so, so, it's gross!" Kylie shrieked. "You're gross." She eyed me.

"Okay." I was stuck again. "I'm gross."

"She also said I should know better, and if I didn't, she made sure she told me…bad boys aren't all they're cracked up to be."

"She said that?" I was surprised. "Bella, your mother, said that?" I threw my head back and laughed. My wife gets wet when she so much as gets a glimpse of my nine. If it's in my hand, forget about it. Bella can front all she wants, bake as many cookies as she wants and smile at church, but I know...She's down to ride with me, gets a thrill from it.

"Joe was Joe…but Damion says he was a punk. He wasn't…I don't know. Gio is good for me, a great person, and I love him. I love him so much." She sounded like she was trying to sell me—herself—that idea.

"I believe you . . . you don't have to tell me that."

"I don't like people getting the wrong impression." She wiped her nose with her hand.

I reached over to grab a booger.

"Dad, get out my nose!" She swatted me away. "I'm not a baby." She smudged it onto her cheek.

"Okay." I nodded.

"You don't pick Sonny's nose."

_I would if he had a snot hanging off his face_, I thought. "Look…" She'd touched on many things, and I didn't know where to start. "You smoked…got high. How was that? Is it something you'll do again?"

She seemed nervous now. "It was only one time. Since Mom was okay with it, I thought you wouldn't care. I told her—she's not mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you either," I said.

"Oh . . . well, I'm not sure if I'd do it again. It was fun." Her face fell once more. "We all had so much fun. Gino, Maggie, and me—Gino wasn't so serious after we smoked. Maggie was a lot of fun and carefree. We made weird sandwiches, watched a movie…Gino passed out and we painted his toes. Then Sonny and Damion came home…and then I had a lot of fun with Damion. It was Saturday night."

"Right." I remember Dame disappearing, but he showed up at the house the next morning—had breakfast with us.

"I want more times like that…maybe not with the weed, but just hanging out. Gio—with Gio, I always have fun like that. He's been my best friend forever, and he's really nice to look at."

"Damion and Sonny are really busy. Peto's not coming back until May." And I'd make sure Gino kept his distance, just because I felt like it, or maybe I should leave that alone? "You might be stuck with Maggie for a while…but I can chill, too."

"Yeah, right."

"No," I said. "I'm fun…you can ask Mom…Don't we always have a good time? Come on, Ky. Be honest."

A smile crept up to her lips. "Yeah…"

"See?"

"But . . . I want . . . that's another problem 'cause I don't know what I want."

"You're nineteen. You don't need all the answers yet." I chuckled. "If you need answers, ask me some shit. I'll tell you."

"Whatever…sure. But you're not my problem, Dad. I _do_ hope you and Mom have a great time." She nodded. "It's not all about you...geez."

"Then stop with all those snarky, backhanded comments directed at me," I said.

"I'm sorry...It's everything else that's crap. And I'd feel a lot better if I was remotely interesting."

"You are!" I hollered, didn't how to make her believe it.

"The one plan I had all week is canceled…Maggie said forget it, and she signed us up. We were going to volunteer at the church—the coat drive." She was disappointed.

"Kylie…now you're pushing it—volunteering? It's not a bad thing, but you're my kid, and I have a feeling you're not going to dig doing a bunch of work for nothing."

"I know that…but I'd be around people."

"What's so great about being around people?" I didn't understand that. "Most get on my nerves."

She grinned. "It's cool because . . . everyone has a story, and I try to guess which journey brought them to the exact same spot where I'd be standing."

"Okay." I pursed my lips, getting it.

"But even Mom and Alex have more . . . better plans. Here we are, volunteering, and those two know how to have fun…they're goofy, sometimes corny, but they're always happy when they're together."

"They're older. They can do more."

"Alex mentioned something. They're having women's self-defense classes at the community center. It's just one session, but I'd like to do that and kickbox. They said they'd all do it with me. It'll be a blast."

"That's cool." I nodded.

"It'd help me lose weight, and learn how to fight. Sonny taught me how to punch, but that's it."

"That's really cool. You should do that." I bit my tongue, but then thought I'd test the waters. "I mean, anything can happen…you don't know. But…I mean, learning to defend yourself in combat is awesome—kicking balls and whatnot. But if you knew how to use a gun, you'd…in some cases, whoever's tryin'a hurt you won't get close enough."

She blinked, staring at me. "You think I need to lose weight?"

"What?" I was confused.

"I said I needed to lose weight, and you didn't argue with me."

I smiled, palming her cheek. "You're so much like your mother it's scary."

"But—"

"You don't need to lose a pound; you're perfect . . . Defending yourself stole all my attention, and learning how to use a gun was just a thought."

"No!" She grabbed my arms but she was beaming. "That's it. That can be my edge."

"Whoa!" I laughed. "You'd learn how to _use_ a gun, respect it and what it can do. It wouldn't be some prop like a new cell phone to show off at parties. I'm not giving you one."

"I know that. The point is, _I'd_ know that. No one else has to know…I mean, Sonny taught Maggie, and Maggie taught me how to load and unload. It was no big deal, but learning how to really use one…We couldn't figure out the bong, but Maggie's slick with the AK."

"AK?" I raised a brow. "Sonny has an AK-47 somewhere in that house…just lying around?" It wasn't a bad thing, but once a Fed shows his face—hauls one of us in—even for bullshit, we all clean house, put shit away.

"The clip was empty."

"Where is it?" I asked.

She paused, wasn't going to tell me. "You'd really teach me?"

"Yeah…" I sighed. "Maybe I'm not the coolest dad…I'm not down to drop you off at a frat house…I'd be more inclined if you were strapped, but that's not my point. Go to those classes, too. I'll teach you some shit…a weapon can be used against you as well."

She nodded.

"Push comes to shove, you can't pause—you can't hesitate. If you're scared, some fucker's coming at you…I promise you. It's best you pull a trigger or kick some ass and ask questions later. That's why it's called self-defense."

"Yeah, yeah, motherfucker! What?" She slapped her chest.

Her little ghetto outburst was cute, but I grasped her biceps. "I'd feel better if you knew this stuff." I was relieved, happy, she brought this shit up. It gave me the opportunity to gauge her reaction.

"But…but are we in danger?"

"No, not at all. You'd still have a driver. I'm not saying I'm giving you a gun and sending you out into the world. . . You'd just know how to use one. It's like driving the car. We'll play it by ear."

"Okay." She got quiet, staring out the windshield. "I feel a little bit better, I think." And she truly is childlike, but I have to say she's getting better, more mature.

"Good." I wasn't sure if my words and I solved _any_ of her problems, which weren't dire.

But as long as she _felt_ better . . .

She showed me her palm. "You gotta gimme money."

"Right." I took out my wad, giving her two hundred.

"That's it? You're going away for a week."

"Five days, and you get your check tomorrow—think I don't know." I scoffed, taking a hundred dollars back. "My wife does the books. I know when you get paid."

"Hey!"

"What do you need money for anyway? Your uncle will feed you. Alex will entertain you. All you need is cash to buy lunch while you're at the salon. Even then, the pizza next door is free. You won't go without."

Kylie pouted. "What if Maggie and I go shopping? She'll have her own money." I happen to know that Kylie's sister-in-law is more than generous, buys her something wherever they go—just if Kylie wants something. Sonny bitched about it. It's his money. "She just takes it out of a drawer—whatever she needs. It's all right there. I have to ask…"

"Kylie, I'm your father, not your husband—"

"I know that, nasty. What are you saying?" She left the car. "Keep your money, weirdo!"

"Kylie!"

"What?" She whipped back to me.

I didn't understand her reaction, but I held out the money. "Here…"

She reached over to grab it. "I need my bag out the trunk."

I hit the button, opening it for her. "Come gimme a hug. I'm leaving."

"No…I'm old now. I can't just be hugging you. What do you think this is?" She went around to the back.

I hissed, leaving the car. "Get over here." I pointed to the ground.

She put her head down, slamming the trunk closed.

When she was in front of me, I lifted her chin. "You're never too old to hug your daddy. What's wrong with you?" I gave her a nudge. "You're always hugging up on Grandpa and your uncle. They don't deserve it. Trust me."

"Nothing's wrong with me." She lightly wrapped her arms around me but was quick to pat my back, like our embrace was over before it started.

"Hug me," I said.

Kylie gave me a small squeeze.

I bent low to kiss her forehead, and she jumped back.

"Bye."

I widened my arms, watching her go. Personally, I thought our talk would earn me some points, make me cooler. "What the fuck?" I asked myself.

"Have fun!" She waved, closing the door behind herself.

I groaned, getting into the car and peeling away from the curb.

God bless that motherfucker Peto. He's gonna have his hands full, that was for sure. Carlisle's actually commented that—although they had their problems after Esme died and slightly before—raising Hanna and Carli was a lot easier than the time he had with Ant and now Eddie.

I disagree.

Sonny and Damion . . . I mean, all my kids can be bitchy, but they were easy to please, appease, raise—parent. They were also taught not to whine, yet we can see how well that worked out . . . in the long run.

Maybe I'm strict with Kylie where I wasn't with the boys. But our daughter was always Bella's—dare I say—problem. She took care of all of them, but focused on Kylie, and I took a bigger role with the boys. It made sense.

And maybe my brother has a screwier sense of the female population in general, and maybe his daughters are . . . loose, but he gets along with them just fine.

They love their father, think the world of him—fuck, no matter what Bella says, Kylie thinks the same of Carlisle, too—and they didn't turn out that bad. Shit could be worse.

I mean, look at Aro's kids—fucking Katie and Aro Jr.—and that motherfucker thinks they're The Brady Bunch. Katie is just a cunt, like her mother, and AJ doesn't know if he's eating pussy or sucking dick.

_Denial isn't just a river in Egypt. _

Excited now—because we might as well already be on vacation—I waved to Sal and practically skipped up the walkway. Bella was home. I didn't see her when I first entered.

"Wife…? Where you at?" I double locked the door.

"In here." Now when that's shouted in a large house . . .

"Where?" I stood in the hall.

"The bedroom!"

"Oh…" I smiled, feeling giddy as I marched down there.

Our bed was covered with clothes and two suitcases, Bella folding laundry, doing shit.

As soon as I entered the room, I pulled her away. "Hey…" I nipped those lips, deepening the kiss quickly, but she didn't put any effort into it. "What's wrong?"

"Um…"

"You know…" My eyes fell to all the crap on the bed. "I plan to be naked or in board shorts most of the time. I expect you to wear your bikinis…we don't need this much shit...pack some of my undershirts, though. And I bet we only need one suitcase."

"I wasn't sure." She looked back to the bed. "I figured…like when we'd pack the kids up, we'd better be safe than sorry."

I shook my head. "Whatever we forget that we need, we'll buy that shit. Fuck it." I pushed all the clothes away.

"Edward! I just folded all that, and you know how much I hate folding..."

"Whatever…just throw that shit in the bag." The clothes were still partially folded, as all I did was do a quick sweep.

"You know what? Be wrinkly. Who knows us in Bermuda? We can be that wrinkly couple from—we'll say we're from somewhere's else."

"Shut up." I yanked on her hand, making her fall on top of me. "We're alone…" I nuzzled my nose to her cheek. "We should get naked from now. Right?" I bit her jaw.

She sighed, huffing and leaning away.

"What's wrong?"

She rolled onto her back, not caring about our garments now.

I turned onto my side. "I just played the guessing game with Kylie…I'm not doing it with you, too. So, if something's wrong…" Seeing a sliver of Bella skin, I lifted her shirt, bending low to kiss her stomach.

"Maybe I'll feel better once we're out of New York."

I nodded. "You'll feel even better than that once you're outta these jeans." I popped the button; meanwhile, I still wore my coat.

"Edward, just stop!" She pushed me away, only to cover her face with her forearms.

"'The fuck's wrong with you?" I asked.

"What's going on with Sonny?" She wouldn't look at me.

I thought about that, so I could answer her honestly. My son bitches, has outbursts like that every once in a while. He's the only person who gets away with speaking to me like that. But I know Sonny. He just needs to get it all out, yell at a motherfucker. "Nothing…he's busy."

"I heard it's a lot more than that." She leaned up on her elbows.

"Like what? I don't understand."

"Maggie told me—"

"Here we go!" I shouted, jumping from the bed, my temper instantly getting the best of me. "Now_ their_ problems become _our_ problems. Go 'head. Talk, scream, I'll listen." I shrugged, having gone through this a few times.

"This is different," she whispered. "This is our son." Bella started crying, and this _was_ different. Otherwise, she would moan, talk about it at great length. "Maggie doesn't know what's going on, and I only know some things . . . Why are you putting him through the ringer?"

"Ringer? He knows better than anyone. You reap what you sow—"

"He's running two crews, doing his own thing, and taking care of Caius's—"

"Don't talk about shit you know nothing about. I _know_ what Sonny's taking care of," I said. "You don't have to remind me."

"Know nothing about?" she laughed but nothing was funny. "Oh, I know a shitload more than our scared little daughter-in-law."

"That's Sonny's problem."

"She's ready to sneak out—go stay with her parents!" she shouted. "Something's wrong. Something's really wrong. You didn't see her."

"The honeymoon's over. They hit a rough patch adjusting to shit. All couples go through it, and what did Sonny expect? She's young—a fucking baby. Of course, she'll run back to—"

"Think about it." She pointed to her temple. "You've met the Sullivans. How bad does shit have to be that she'd go back to them?"

I shook my head, groaning. "Maybe she's better off—"

"You're not—ugh!" Bella cringed. "Do you think—what do you think's going to happen if Maggie leaves him?"

"He'll walk around the corner and go get her." I snorted. "The Sullivans live right there." My hand went east.

"And if she goes a step farther 'cause she feels trapped? Takes a bundle of cash and hits the road? Sonny would stop at nothing until he found her. He'll make her come back, or worse...I don't know." She shuddered. "He loves her so much. It scares the crap outta me—thinking of what he might do."

"Sonny? Come on." I sucked my teeth. "He'd never hurt her—"

"Like you'd never hurt me? Edward, sometimes things happen, and we don't mean for it to...I mean, what would you do if I ran?"

"You wouldn't." I blew out a breath. "Did she say this? It's kind of stupid…going to you with this shit. Did you tell Sonny to hide his money? Keep an eye out?"

"Edward. Christ!" She pulled her hair. "No, she didn't have to tell me. I already knew. Ask me how I knew that, Edward?"

Shrugging out of my coat, I sat on the bed. "You had a gut feeling."

"No…"

"What does it matter? She can't drive…really go anywhere. Sonny has nothing to worry about."

"She's his wife, not a fucking prisoner. And I know how she feels—know what she might be thinking." She cried into her hands.

"Come on…they'll figure it out. Sonny has some extra responsibilities—"

"Some? You act like you asked him to walk the dog, take out the trash. He did you a favor, and you're punishing him." She knew all about Caius now, as I wasn't able to keep that from her.

"No…I'm not punishing him. I need to know he can hack it . . . Fuck. If Maggie can't, it's best they learn that now before she pops out some kids—adding to it. And Sonny's a sweetheart, a lot more…doting than I ever was. So, he's not around a lot these days. Big deal. They'll have time once shit settles. We all paid our dues—"

"No, you got lucky," she said.

"What?" I cupped my ear.

"You worked hard…to get where you _were_, but once you…Look, you're right. It's not about us." She backed away from me.

I twirled a finger. "Where'd that comment come from then? What'd'ju mean?"

She huffed. "I mean, you worked under Marcus. And I'm sure he made you work hard, saddled you with a lot, but you were twenty-six when…you had all these people at your disposal. You know? People started working _for_ you at a very young age."

"No, I don't know." I wanted her to elaborate. She's acting like . . . like I've done nothing all these years. Like, the time I spent away from her and the kids, the time I wasn't around I was out partying.

"You did what you had to do . . . The minute—the second—you figured out Marcus might move against you, you took care of it. You took it all. No matter how shady he was, you schemed, too. You stole it all, staged a coup, and I think you were just waiting for an excuse to kill him, although I understand and agree with why you did it. You didn't spend years and years under him. He was your boss for—"

"It was to be mine before that snake turned on me. I was groomed to be where I am, just like I'm teaching Sonny. You may not agree with my method, but I won't be around one day. If he can't handle it now, if he blows it now—"

"He's blowing it." She nodded. "'Cause you set him up to fail." Bella pointed at me.

"I did not!" I shouted. "No fucking way. It's a juggling act…Trust; I know. Things'll slow down—"

"You never, even during your most…active days had as much shit to take care of as Sonny does. You never worked that hard in your life!"

"Fuck you! You wanna talk about work? Working hard? What the fuck have you done? As soon as we got married and the money was coming in, you were set. You talked a good game, trying to be proud and shit," I laughed. "Oh, the tanning salon—where you'd work whenever you felt like it. Or college! Ha! As soon as it got hard, you dropped out. And then you'd go back just to drop out again—"

She jumped back, blinked at me. "Excuse me?"

I waved a hand, calming some, and realizing what I said. "I didn't mean all that."

"No, fuck you, Edward!" She poked my chest.

"Cool it!" I shouted. "And watch those fucking fingers."

"You think you're so much better. I'd like to see you do it all again—go back to school, but with three kids...hiding while people are out to kill your spouse, picking up and leaving at a moments notice. Oh, wait. It doesn't matter. Marcus bought your law degree."

"Shut your mouth." I scoffed. "That fuck didn't do that shit for me. I earned it all—"

"Being a mother is the hardest fucking job there is. Where's my nightclub? My desk? When do I get to so much as sit? Stop worrying? It is a job, one I am damn proud of! And I've done both. It's a lot easier to pull a fucking trigger!" She hit my chest again.

"Watch it." I used one finger to poke her shoulder and she nearly stumbled, but I caught her. "Look—"

"We need to chill out." She put her palms out, still crying.

We both got quiet. She refused to look at me, and I kept taking calming breaths. After being married for as long as we have, we've learned the hard way—time and time again—when we need to take a break.

Swallowing down my anger, I pulled Bella into my arms and kissed her hair. "I'm sorry I said what I did," I whispered, but I was still . . .

"I just…I just want you to see. You know?" she asked. "You almost always had help. You always had Carlisle and Aro backing you. Yeah, heavy is the head that wears the crown…you did the bulk, you did a lot more, but Sonny has no one he can trust as much—no one he can turn to. He can't come to you. Once he does, he's showing a weakness. In your eyes, his floundering is a weakness, when he's doing a lot more than you ever did. I'm just being honest." She wiped her eyes, leaving my embrace.

"He's come to me—"

"What? He asked you for help, and you haven't—"

"Aro and Carlisle always rode with me—helped behind the scenes. I did it all! My hands are filthy in comparison to theirs. Only difference, I fucking enjoyed myself." I ranted. "Can you understand that? Sonny's bitching and whining…you know what? I do doubt him, but very slightly. I still have faith in him."

"You're not listening!"

"I heard everything you said. So, he's busier…not by much." I shrugged. "He hasn't been around lately. I'm guessing he came to some solution, which I was pushing him to do without my help…" I kicked off my shoes. "How many hints does the kid need? If I'm not extending a hand, take care of shit without me. He's gotta learn now or he never will. And if he can't work and be married—juggle—then he can't."

"You slowed down and Sonny sped up . . ."

"That's how it happens. That's how it goes. I did my time. Now, it's my time to sit back, keep all my ducks in a row. Take my wife on fucking vacation—shit!" I balled my hands into fists. "You think I enjoy it, though? It's still lose-lose. I loved being out there, doing my thing, actively working. Now it's more . . . _I'm not getting into this_." I put my hands up in surrender.

"What? You think you're doing me some favor by being home before ten o'clock?" she laughed. "You're still—"

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "First I'm fucking lazy, I'm not doing shit, and now…_still_?" I raised a brow. "What the fuck, Bella? Make up your mind."

"Edward—" she placed her hand on my shoulder "—it was my mistake. What you do now or have done in the past, doesn't matter. The point is…Sonny's in trouble. My sweet, baby boy—"

"He's a man. A fucking mafia underboss—a capo! You wanna be technical? He's far from your baby boy, Bella. Snorting coke off some tramp's tit, doing him—he's fucking out there, making paper, taking names…no one fucks with Sonny," I laughed.

"You're proud of that?" The tears were back.

"Yes." I nodded. "I'm upset that Maggie had to come to you, which she should not have done. She should have licked her wounds, spoken to Sonny about _their_ problems. But our son married—essentially, he married a child, so it's not unexpected she got you involved. Especially when your beak is all in their business. I'm upset that he's unhappy, that he can't handle—"

"Again, he_ can_ handle it. You're the boss! As soon as Caius was out of the picture, you should have promoted someone on his crew to take it over. You didn't do that. You've known for weeks you're going to sell Twilight, yet you're content to watch our son run back and forth . . . You're like this sadistic kid with an ant farm and a magnifying glass!" She groaned, pulling her hair again.

"Bullshit!" I hissed.

"It's cruel . . . Sonny was really happy. Now I have to ask…He was doing well. He was excelling at everything, and having Maggie by his side just made him better, stronger." She sat next to me. "Our marriage—when we were first married—you had a lot of trouble with the balancing act. We fought a lot. We weren't miserable, but…Did you do this just so he'd pay his dues? Have it hard, like you did? Are you jealous?"

I furrowed my brow. "You're sick for even thinking that. What's wrong with you? No, I'm not jealous of him in the slightest."

"I think you are. He does your job better than you do." She covered her mouth. "I didn't mean that."

"What?" I spat. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I scooped my shoes back on. "You said it, you meant it."

She threw herself into my arms. "Look at me." She palmed my cheeks. "I'm sorry. Edward…"

I'm sure she thought I was out of it, seeing red already, but I wasn't there yet. "What the fuck did you mean by that?" I pulled her grasp from my face.

She blew out a breath. "Just…we need to relax." She curled into a ball on my lap, the perfect bundle to throw out the window . . .

"Yeah." I bit out, squeezing her and stiffening.

"Don't think of Sonny as some pawn you're utilizing…He's your son, and his new marriage is crumbling. _He's_ crumbling. I'm not asking you to be his boss . . . I'm not . . ." She nuzzled her nose to mine. "Be his father. I know he's grown. I know he's a lot of things and this too shall pass . . . Just, before we leave, go talk to him. I'll stay here. I'll pack. Just drop by. Don't mention that Maggie spoke to me."

"Why? What's the big deal? I'm used to you sticking your nose places it doesn't belong. Sonny must be—"

"He thinks she was at church…not with me. I spoke to…Tommy boy?"

"Tommy—good kid." I reached to rub my eyes.

"He was really nice—compliant. I told him to take a walk, look the other way. He said I had his word," she giggled. "That's awesome."

I raised a brow. "That's not awesome. If he's driving Maggie, and he's content to keep shit from Sonny, that's a recipe for disaster."

"Just…think outside your small box for a second. It doesn't matter. Just don't tell Sonny that Maggie came to me."

"I won't." I groaned.

"She mentioned something about him going away on business? You're sending him somewhere between all this stuff, too?"

"Maggie brought that up?" I asked in disbelief.

"She didn't say where or what he was doing—she doesn't know. She was scared, thought he was in trouble."

"No…do us all a favor and don't mention that shit again. Okay? Just put it out your mind. Carlisle and Aro are in on that, too. Everything will be squared away."

"I trust you." She kissed my cheek. "You just have to settle this—find out if you can help, let him know it's okay. He deserves a compliment or two."

"Right." I let go of Bella to pull my coat back on. "Make me something to eat."

"No problem." She pushed my hair back. "Just go around the corner, have a chat, and I'll have something ready . . . I'd just—"

"I know." I brought her over to my side, so I could stand. "You'll be worried the whole time we're away. Shit." I palmed my forehead. "He's home?"

"It's still early…I think so."

"If he's not, I gotta go to Eclipse, or demand he comes here." I shrugged. "He won't if I just ask…fucking hates me right now." That I knew without Bella opening her mouth.

"I said all that stuff because—"

I put my hand up. "You're trying to make me see shit I can't, make comparisons. But I know what Sonny's doing—how much he's doing."

"I'm sorry . . . just, please. Do whatever you gotta do. I have to pack…I'll make a small dinner." She gestured to our bed. "We'll eat it on the couch if I don't get to the bottom of this shit." Bella wasn't holding a grudge, which made me wonder why she pushed my buttons—no matter what she was saying. "If you think—which I know from what you said—that Sonny's doing a good job, tell him. He looks up to you more than anyone. You're a rock star, his idol. I bet he just needs…an encouraging word."

"I'll be back." I kissed her cheek. "Fucking Damion, Kylie, Sonny…They need to fucking chill. I mean, when does it end?"

"When we're dead. I don't think parents—good parents—retire." She folded some jeans back up. "We always said we'd be better than our own."

I scoffed at nothing. "Who said we had to be _good_ parents? Better than our own, yeah. We did that. They're alive, doing well, always had food, we paid for school, hooked them up . . . They're adults now. Whatever resentment…they already have it . . . Look, I'm torn between caring too much and then wondering when I get a break?"

She beamed at me. "Welcome to motherhood, Edward."

"Don't be cute...and be ready to do some freaky, nasty shit after we eat. Our vacation starts when I get back, and I don't wanna hear a word about any of them. They're healthy, okay in hindsight. They'll stay that way until we get back. I mean it. Fuck. Serve me dinner naked." I nodded, pursing my lips.

She blew me a kiss.

I caught it and put it in my pocket before I left the room.

Sal was still here, in his car and on his cell phone. Having been so excited earlier, I hadn't dismissed him yet, so I had him drive me over to Sonny's. When we pulled up to the curb, I started to laugh.

Bella played me.

I wasn't sure how or why . . . but she did.

To get the end result she wanted, she blew it out of proportion.

Yet, as I walked up to Sonny's door, I didn't know what I was doing here.

Pep talk, right.

Coddle him, right.

Do all the shit I know he doesn't need me to.

All this bullshit, and I've come to my own conclusion that maybe Bella doesn't have enough faith in our son.

_Hey, if being us—doing what we do—was easy, more fuckers would take the risk and do it. _

Most men in my position are married, but I can't imagine there's love there. Love complicates every-fucking-thing, is more a burden than a blessing to many. They get married to save face, have children, and then lead double lives.

I know all about it.

For some people, that shit is just easier.

Maggie made him better. Katie brought him back down, and then he did what he did to Caius. Overall, women, the love he has or had felt, were controlling his life—whether he realized it or not. But no. I know for a fact that Sonny loves Maggie to the point of obsession . . . And I don't even know what love is like without a little obsessive and possessiveness.

Bella, whether _she_ realizes it or not, controls my life.

Tommy boy was still in his car, which made me think maybe Sonny wasn't home.

"Skip!" He slapped his hand to mine. "How you doin'?"

"Good…you?" I asked.

"All right." He smiled. "This new gig…it's a step up."

"Don't blow it." I grinned at him. "Keep your eyes and hands to yourself. You keep my son informed, and you speak when you're spoken to. Simple, right?" Since I was already on a mission, I thought I'd help the kid.

He nodded. "Sound advice."

"Is Santino here?" I asked.

"Yeah." He pulled on his cigarette. "Santino usually sends me away when he's home, but...I think I'm taking Maggie to your brother's house? I'm not sure. Since I'm not sure, I stayed put."

"Good…you're a good kid." I patted his back.

"Oh…" He seemed surprised. "I'm happy you say that—that you noticed. I was working with Caius on—"

I put my palm up.

"Sorry." He went back over to his car, and I made a mental note to find out what he did for Caius. This kid was too fucking nice, pleasant. And when I got to the door, I had an odd thought . . . of Maggie and Tommy boy hitting it off and running.

"Whew." I whistled, knocking.

I mean, it was a weird thought to have, but I'm used to looking at fuckers and figuring out their next ten steps before they take them. Matters of the heart are no fucking different.

I thought I knew what Bella was referring to without even seeing Maggie.

"Who is it?" Maggie whispered through the door.

"Me…Skip."

"Oh." She scrambled to open the door, and then practically fell into my arms. "Um…Santino's sleeping."

"OK." I nodded, and she did look worrisome, like an old rag—aged ten years or some shit. "Go wake him up."

Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry."

"He can be grumpy, but…"

"He's not feeling well lately." She backed into the foyer. "He's tired and cranky…when he can sleep, I try to be quiet."

I sighed, scrubbing my face with my hand. "You want me to wake him?"

"If…" She gave me some weird look. "If it can't wait." It was a smart move. He'd take his cranky ass out on her.

"What's going on? I thought you two were . . . happy? Doing well?" I asked.

"We'll be fine. It's almost over."

"Excuse me?"

"Santino will be feeling better soon? He said he feels better, but then...it comes and goes," she said, waving a hand.

"He's got a cold? The flu?" I grimaced, wanting to turn back for the door. "I mean…I'd go in there…"

"No."

"Then what's wrong with him?" Talking to her was worse than Kylie and Bella, skirting around bullshit. I'd rather not be granted answers.

"He's irritable…?"

"Irritable bowels?" I quirked a brow.

"Okay." She nodded.

I looked up to the ceiling. "Talk to me, Mags. What's going on?"

She shook her head, her lip quivering. "I can't tell you." She breathed.

I reached to push my hair back, and then I almost lost my footing. Maggie hugged me tightly, weeping into my chest.

"Hey." I rubbed her back. "Things'll get better, but no problem was ever solved with running. If you're thinking of doing that…you can't." I lifted her chin. "You're married. Your place is here."

"I know that. I'm not—I'm not going to run away. I promise."

"Good." I patted her back, when my phone started ringing. It was Bella's ringtone—some Lady Gaga shit she put on there.

She and Kylie and their ringtones . . . I wasn't working, so I didn't put it on vibrate.

"Turn that shit off!" Sonny barked.

I let go of Maggie, staring up the stairs and dismissing the call. That's when I realized all the lights were off, no TV or music playing.

Since I knew Bella would just call again, I held my phone out, banking on the loud song sounding. Sure enough, it did, and I let it play . . . holding my fucking hand up the stairs.

"What are you doing?" Maggie asked, and she looked afraid.

"Christ!" Sonny shouted, and I heard stomping around. "What the fuck's wrong with you? With the music already…_dumb cooz_," he whispered that last part, approaching the landing.

"You talk to her like that?" I asked.

"I'll talk to her how I want," he spat. "What's good? Something you needed?" He stood at the top of the stairs in boxers, hair a mess.

"What'd'ju sleep all day?" I asked, hoping he'd stop pushing my buttons.

"I thought you were going to Bermuda?" He palmed his cheeks. "Get me a soda…and I'm hungry." His gaze fell on Maggie.

"Um, would you like something?" she asked me. "I'm just making him a sandwich."

"He's not staying," Sonny said.

"Oh, I don't mind—" Maggie started.

My son silently pointed toward the kitchen, and Maggie—like many before her—knew how to pick her battles. She tiptoed away.

"What the fuck was that?" I spat. "You're pushing it…you're close, kid." I held up my thumb and forefinger. "This-fucking-close, so you better watch yourself and use your next words wisely. You wanna disrespect me in the house I bought you? Well, I thought we taught you manners—"

"Oh!" He chuckled. "That's it. This house was a ploy—have us around the corner, a ways for you to control what happens in my crib? Get the fuck outta here." I wasn't sure if he meant that literally, not that I gave a fuck . . .

"Shit got difficult . . . the road of life is paved with many winding turns. Pick your battles, Sonny. You ready to cut me off?"

"That's a threat."

"That's a fucking guarantee. You turn on me, I can't trust you, and what happens to fuckers I don't trust?" I raised a brow. "Hmm?"

"What are you talking about?" He spoke with his hands. "You can't trust anybody. You _don't_ trust anybody. Maybe I thought I'd catch a break…being your kid."

I laughed. "I've given you more breaks than a Kit Kat bar…you and your brother—"

"Leave him outta this!" he shouted. "The kid has nothing to do with our shit."

"You're right." I nodded. "I just…excuse me for not being aware there was a real problem. But since you're so content on acting like a bitch, being a cunt…Why don't you tell me what's up? I gave you responsibilities—free rein to handle it how you wanted to. I gave you a job . . . How is recent shit any different from the past? Tell me. You want me to cut you slack? That breaks my heart. I thought you were better than this. I haven't intervened, 'cause hey, you're doing so well. But tell me where I'm wrong!" I slapped my hands together.

"Just go . . . I have my phone on. Carlisle calls, I know what I gotta do. I gotta head to La Bella Italia now." He turned.

"Why are you there? Is that where you're hiding?"

"Hiding?" He snorted. "No, that's shit you and my brother do." He grumbled under his breath. "I have reasons why I'm there—doing shit at arm's length. It's working for me." Sonny likely spoke about the women. Maybe being around the strippers is a hardship. Especially since he used to be so _involved.._.If that was the case, I'd be disappointed, since he'd prove me wrong—that maybe Sonny's feelings for his wife don't run as deeply as I believed.

"What are you doing?" I asked again. "What…" I stopped talking when Maggie came back over.

I'm a lot of things. I've done a lot of wrong shit in my life, but I'd never betray my wife. I taught my kids that marriage was sacred, no matter what they'd see other couples do. I also told my sons to play the field, not to get too involved unless they were serious.

Sex and love are two very different things.

I thought Sonny, who is so loyal at heart, would truly believe in the things I'd taught him. When you cheat on the woman you love, you only cheat yourself in the long run.

Maybe his beef wasn't with the strippers per se. But that's the only logical excuse I could come up with...why he was chillin' at the restaurant.

"Are you gonna come down and eat?" she asked.

"No, I'll eat up here."

Maggie went to bring his plate up.

"I got it." I took the glass and dish. "Put on some music, watch TV—"

"I have a headache—the walls are pretty thin."

I ignored Sonny. "Just—"

"Stay outta earshot," Sonny spat, turning from the stairs.

"He's not mad at me," she informed me.

"You sure?" I asked in disbelief. "He's upset with one of us." It was hard not to run up the steps and shove the sandwich down his throat.

"He's not. Yesterday, Damion said—"

"Dame's been here?" That was news to me.

"He told me to be patient…I'm trying," she cried. "It's hard…I know he's not feeling well—"

I snorted a laugh. "Maggie—" I bent low to be at eye level "—I don't give a shit if he's got cancer, you don't let him talk to you like that." Sure, I was the pot calling the kettle black. But Bella gives as good as she gets—can handle it. But then I could see Maggie not wanting to egg him on, make a bad situation worse. She was fucked. "Go call Kylie. You should head over to my brother's, chill out."

"When Santino leaves…" She trailed off, blowing out a breath.

I ascended the stairs, taking those shits quickly.

The door to their bedroom was open, the space a mess. Sonny had gotten back in bed.

"Here." I placed the sandwich and shit down next to him. "Will you talk to me? I'm not…I'm not here as the Skip." I swore I'd keep calm, be patient. I know Sonny, if I soften, he'll soften, and then it'll be gravy. "All right?"

He smirked at me, shoving a few pills into his mouth, washing them down with the soda.

"What are you taking?"

"Xanax."

"Oh…" I nodded. "Remind me to thank Pfizer . . . but why—"

He growled, sitting back. "I'm out of it—not myself. I'd elaborate, but I don't want to. Please respect my privacy. I'll be fine in a few days. Maggie knows I don't mean it. I've been apologizing out my asshole for snapping."

"If you're sorry, why do you keep doing it?" I asked.

"Why do you fly at Mom every chance you get? I can't explain the mysteries of the world to you—why I hurt the ones I love the most." He was holding back tears now, and he flipped so quickly…

"Slow down." I sat on the bed next to him. "Is this work-related?" No matter what it was, I can't see Sonny being this…torn, this out of character because of some bullshit. Then I saw the Xanax, the bottle of Jack, Sonny being sick without being sick… "Are you . . . withdrawing? Going through withdrawal?"

"Yeah." He rasped.

And I wasn't angry. There was no way I could be when I'd gone through that shit before. "Coke?"

He nodded.

With yak, it's not like heroin or alcohol. There are no outward physical symptoms. You carry on, live your life, but the effects on the brain are a mindfuck—emotions flipping back and forth, the anger . . . my God. It's similar to being on a blind rampage, and it doesn't matter who's in your path. It affects people differently—being exhausted all the time but not sleeping, malaise, you name it, you feel it at different points.

I'd battle my temper. I remember Carlisle being depressed to the point of being suicidal while he was in law school. We'd both gone through it but at different times. We'd learned our lesson—well, I did. I'd use every now and again, but I'd never let it control me the way it did while Bella was pregnant with Sonny.

Bella always thought it was work. I never told anyone, feeling ashamed but going through it.

Alas, that was a long time ago . . .

And this was Sonny—my beautiful, talented, intelligent son. Why couldn't I see it? See that it was all too much? It certainly was if he was resorting to yak—letting it be his crutch.

"How long?" I asked.

"A little over a month."

"How long since you used?"

"Four days." He cleared his throat.

"Do you need rehab?"

"What?" he laughed. "You'd send me to rehab?"

"In a heartbeat . . . No one would need to know shit. We'd work it out."

"I'm fine...I can do this on my own."

"The worst is over." I nodded, sighing. "What…" I didn't know how to go on.

"I know you're disappointed, but you can't possibly judge me. I'm still doing my best. I just moved shit around. I'm still—"

"Stop." I put my hand up.

He gritted his teeth together, stiffening. "Just say what you gotta say—whatever hypocritical bullshit suits you."

"I'm not going to say anything." I pursed my lips. "Not now. When you're better, we'll talk. If I find out you're using again—"

"I know. I'm good."

I nodded, but I didn't know if I could believe him. I wanted to and he'd lasted this far . . . "Look, you're going out west, most likely tomorrow, why don't . . ." I racked my brain for a solution, but nothing made sense. The only logical conclusion I could come to was finishing what started before Sonny was even born. I was sending him out there to finish my shit, do my bidding. "You're not going out there—"

"Oh, you can't trust me to go out there?" He stood up.

"That's not what I'm saying . . . You got a prepaid cell here?" I looked around.

"Downstairs in my office."

"OK…I gotta make phone calls, settle some shit. But bank on being at the airport tomorrow for 11:30 in the morning."

"I thought we weren't flying?"

"You and Maggie are going to Bermuda as me and your mother. I'll get the passports tonight." I nodded, hoping Carlisle's guy worked miracles. He should—Jenks knows better. Hook or crook, we'd have passports with Bella's and my names with their pictures on them.

"Whoa—"

"You earned it. Take it." I shrugged. "You go, have fun…try and piece together your marriage, swim with dolphins." Bella was going to kill me. "But I need an alibi…The Feds aren't around, but they'll notice me gone—will look for me. This works. It'll work, and you don't gotta explain shit to Maggie."

"I'm sorry."

"No." I shook my head, reaching for his shoulder. "You've done so well. I'm proud of you. You've got good instincts. Aro and me, we kept saying to leave Caius alone, but…you still felt what you did. I know you didn't intend on killing him." Sonny's temper rivals mine on his best days. "I get it."

"You gonna take me down in rank? I know Aro's acting underboss, but the way everyone kept talking—I knew I had shit to prove." He refused to meet my gaze.

"Yes, I mean, no." I chuckled. "You're not getting demoted, but you are my successor. It'll all be yours…one day, hey, I might choose to retire. Me and your Mom…we'll get a time share."

"Yeah, right."

"Stranger things have happened." I hummed, wanting to hug him close to me so badly. He was right there . . . yet so far away. I could tell by his eyes, his mind was spinning even if our conversation was calm. "You're not getting demoted. Get that out your head. I can't judge you for what you did. But you're right…I am disappointed. You gotta get your head right, get the world off your shoulders, and get to the airport tomorrow morning. This'll only work if we all do what we gotta do together."

"What are you going to tell Mom?"

I whistled. "I have no idea. She's gonna have to…stay in the house all week, pretend she's not even home. I don't know, but now I feel like shit."

"I apologize!" He snapped. "Dad, I'll go. I'll go right now. Just tell me—"

"Shhh…" I couldn't recognize my son at the moment, which made getting him outta Dodge that much more logical. He'll walk up the hill and come down the other side before he lands back in New York next Tuesday. "I feel guilty—'cause while I know Mom will be upset, I'll enjoy myself, going out there." I shrugged, smirking to myself. "Shit like this was never your thing, but it was mine. Shit's just too hot. They watch me. I'm in the spotlight." I shook my head, and now I couldn't wait to see the look on Heidi's face. She hasn't forgotten my mug, that much I knew. "Mom will get over it…I'll take her away next week or the week after…whatever. Just stay low-key. You know? You get there, don't leave the hotel."

"OK."

"I should go." It made my stomach roll even more, knowing Bella was packing. I had to stop her. "You'll hear from me—Carlisle, whoever. Just pack a bag for Maggie and yourself."

He nodded. "I can't believe—What are you going to tell people? Your idiot son—"

"It's no one's business—the whys. Fuck that. I switched shit around 'cause I felt like it. Who knows about…?"

"Maggie and Dame."

I wondered if Bella knew and just didn't wanna tell me. "You'll hear from me." I patted his back, a fleeting thought coming to mind. "You hide that AK I got you under the bed?"

He furrowed his brow. "Uh…"

I got onto my knees, and sure enough, it was underneath the bed, a blanket sheathing it. "You have to put this away—shit's hot right now."

Sonny pointed. "How'd you…" he chuckled without humor. "Of course. You already knew about the yak, too. Didn't you...? This was all a set up? Some half-assed intervention...? Huh...? Maggie!" He roared.

"Relax." I reached for him, but he walked—more like hopped—around me to get out the room. "I guessed that shit 'cause it was obvious—no one told me!"

"Maggie!"

I left the floor, leaving the large gun on the bed. "Sonny!" I shouted.

"You're telling people shit? Shit that goes on in this house?" He had her arms, shaking her.

"Oww—"

"Answer me!"

"They were having fun!" I tried to get between them, defuse the situation. "Being bad-asses and shit. No one got hurt, and no one told me about the blow!" I rushed out. "Calm down!"

"I didn't do anything," Maggie cried.

"Let go!" I reached to pull Sonny from her, but he moved to keep his back to me—block me.

"Playing show and tell with Kylie—" When his hand came up, my heart skipped a beat. It all happened within a split second. He could have been reaching for something, or whack her one . . . I didn't know, but I did know.

And before he could do anything, I fucking decked him right on the nose.

Sonny flew, hit the wall, and came back—charging me, my back slamming against the banister.

"Stop!" Maggie screamed. "Stop it!"

He had my middle, but I kicked his legs in, making him fall again.

"Santino!" Maggie yanked his shoulders, and he pushed her away.

She fell down onto her ass, clocked her head on the wall, and then she crawled to the steps.

I groaned, getting him in the eye with my right hook for that shit. But Sonny was not deterred, going for blood—mine.

We rolled around in a scuffle on the floor, fists flying.

While I tried to restrain him, he just wouldn't let up, and I couldn't figure out why my own anger was staying at bay. I was angry, livid, but...

Then he actually got me in the jaw, and all bets were off . . . I used my fist to make contact once more, hurt him…and then I heard feet trampling up the stairs, and Maggie following.

She'd run outside to grab Sal and Tommy boy.

"Get his arms," I said.

They pulled him off of me, and then I got to my feet, my chest heaving. "Bring—bring him out back." I pointed.

Sal and Tommy ushered Sonny down the stairs, and Maggie stopped me from leaving with them.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Where are you taking him?"

"Go…get in your room." I placed her inside, closed the door. I couldn't deal with that shit right now.

My hands—my body was shaking as I ran down and out the back door. The guys still had Sonny while he fought against them. It was an open scuffle—Sonny holding his own with them.

"You put your hands on her?" My hand spanned his head, yanking on his hair. "Did we raise some coked-out wife-beater?"

"Fuck you!"

"But you were going for it—I saw it. You were going to hit her?" I asked him, leaning away and bopping him in the mouth. "How's that feel? You feel like a man now, Santino? Tell me."

He spit blood onto the ground, his eyes narrowing.

"Beat this motherfucker." I snapped my fingers.

The way I saw it, he wasn't Sonny right now—a fact that warranted the punishment being bestowed upon him, a stranger who pushed my buttons.

He'll thank me for it . . . someday.

It's a helluva way to learn a lesson, but fuckers need a beat down sometimes.

Sonny wasn't Sonny right now.

Deep down, though, I knew my son was somewhere inside that monster. This'll knock some sense into him, make the real Sonny come back.

I know him…better than I know anyone else on this planet—better than I know Bella.

No matter how cold I was—knew I was being—I couldn't look, but I heard . . . the punches, the grunts, the groans…

Maybe Sal and Tommy—two very abled-bodied males—were holding themselves back until I gave the okay.

They were just following orders now . . .

"What are you doing?" Maggie screamed. "Oh, my God!" She ran out, and I caught her before she could get between them. "Let me go! Stop!" She wailed. "Santino!"

"Stop!" I shouted—not to Maggie, to the guys. "That's enough."

They backed off. Sonny—bloodied and beaten—fell to his knees. That whole time, no matter how hard they hit him, he kept fighting, getting back up . . .

"He'll be fine," I told Maggie.

"Get off me!" She cried out, pushing against me, and I let her go. "I trusted you…You were supposed to help him. How could you?" she asked.

I had no reply.

Sonny would explain it to her someday, why this was necessary. I mean, I did intervene. I did the right thing. I stopped Sonny from truly throwing it all down the toilet. I saved him from himself, which is something I've always done and will continue to do.

It takes a lot more to come back from that, hurting the woman you love, which is so much more torturous than fighting an addiction . . .

To me, anyway.

"Get up," I told him. "You two…" I jerked a thumb, indicating they leave.

"Go inside," Sonny said, looking to Maggie as he staggered to his feet.

"No…are you okay? Tell me. Should—I—should I call 911? Tell me what to do." She hugged him, which made Sonny wince.

"Go inside." He kissed her hair, tears falling down his cheeks.

"She can stay." There was nothing I couldn't say in front her right now.

"This has nothing to do with her. She shouldn't have to see this shit—"

I laughed. "You think…"

He thought I was going to kill him, and maybe that wasn't surprising…to draw that conclusion.

"Relax." I rolled my eyes, and it killed me to be this blasé, but I hated that he thought that—my son. "You got back up…If you didn't, I would have thought about it." I hoped he knew what I meant.

He winced, holding his side.

I stepped closer, and Maggie widened her arms in front of him. "Leave—leave my house."

"Cute," I commented, and I truly dug her bravado. "Ice your face. Get some rest, and be at the airport by 11:30 tomorrow."

"Dad—"

I put my hand up, stopping him. "You don't show up, we'll have problems—real issues. Understand?"

He nodded, licking his cut lip.

"I'll get everything to you tonight. You'll hear from your uncle, or someone will stop by."

"OK."

"You all right?" I asked Maggie.

She was afraid to meet my gaze, but . . . Sonny will never raise his hand, or even his voice to her again. It was possible, knowing the real him. He had a lot of shit to make up for, and it was then that I refused to feel guilty about this.

He'd never touch that other shit again either.

"Hun?" I reached to palm her cheek.

She pulled back. "I'm fine. It wasn't—"

"It _was_ a big deal," Sonny said, looking away. "Christ. I'm so sorry, baby." He was sobbing . . . and I'd leave him with that.

"Don't forget sunblock," I said, the winter making them pastier than usual.

"Thanks…" Sonny whispered.

I didn't say he was welcome as I turned to leave.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

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	38. Chapter 38

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

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* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

**BELLA POV**

**A**fter I tried calling Edward a third time and received no answer, I decided to abandon packing and make a quick meal. As I began to cook, my mind wandered, and I had to talk myself out of dialing my husband again.

"Come on." My foot tapped, watching the clock, seeing he'd left a while ago. Not to mention that I was waiting for water to boil, which takes an eternity if you're standing there watching . . . It's almost as torturous as waiting for coffee to brew.

All I wanted to ask was how things were going, what was wrong.

Speaking to Maggie earlier, I had this nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach. She'd looked terrible, her words were worrisome, and yet she couldn't answer me—tell me what was going on.

Something was up with Sonny, and when I called him this afternoon, he snapped at me.

Like Edward, Sonny asked me to mind my business and then grumbled, mumbled words I tried to decipher; he'd pulled the phone away, and I could hardly hear him. He got his message across, though.

My son has never spoken to me that way.

It was unacceptable.

And something doesn't seem right.

The gist of what Maggie did say was that things weren't turning out the way she'd hoped, Sonny was stressed to the max with work matters, neither one is happy.

Although most of those things don't seem serious, they were to me.

I happen to know how much they love each other—how deep Sonny's love for Maggie goes.

Things weren't going well, and neither could answer as to why.

They were so fucking happy, and now they're not.

And it scared the fuck out of me to think that my son could hurt his wife.

Usually, I'd have more faith in him, but the way Maggie was acting . . . all flinch-y, sad, and withdrawn . . . and I hadn't forgotten how Sonny tore Maggie out of her chair last week at dinner.

I wasn't sure.

I also know how hard Sonny's been working, how crazy-busy he's been.

Since I didn't know what was going on in their relationship, I figured I'd talk to Edward—try to alleviate Sonny's stress where work was concerned, thinking maybe my husband could help.

Only, Edward thinks Sonny can take on the world, come up swinging . . .

He doesn't realize how hard it is, how he pushes people . . . and Sonny, like myself, admires Edward, and we have this need to please him. My son doesn't want his father to be disappointed in him; he can't show weakness.

Things were fucked. My gut, my instincts, that pesky mother's intuition, told me something was seriously wrong.

I needed to help Sonny any way I could.

While I was glad Edward got the picture after I spelled things out, and I'm happy he's there now, my rolling stomach told me to watch out, be ready…prepare for the blow.

And Edward wasn't answering.

When the water started to bubble, I tossed the ziti in, and then I went to look out the window. My phone was still in my hand, and I stared down at it—willing it to ring.

Groaning to myself, I marched back into the kitchen, stirring, stirring, stirring the macaroni and the tomato sauce—a little too vigorously as I'd made a mess. After cleaning it up, I heard the front door.

My heart skipped a beat as I dropped the dishrag to run into the foyer.

Edward was quiet, entering to close the door behind himself.

"How did it go?" I asked.

His long faced turned my way, and with a slight shake of his head, he silently walked past me.

"Edward…" I grasped his forearm. "What happened?"

He sighed which was more of a grunt. "We-we have to talk."

I nodded, holding my stomach. "Um…dinner's almost set. We can…" I shrugged, waiting for him to elaborate.

Edward stared to the side of me. He couldn't meet my gaze, but he reached up to palm my cheek. "I don't know…how—where to start." He had tears in his eyes.

"Is-is Sonny okay? What's—"

"He's not." His voice broke.

My knees became weak. "Edward…" I held onto his biceps. "Tell me—"

He shook his head, making those tears fall. "He's all right, I guess…It's a long story."

Even if I heard his words, I needed to make sure. "He's…"

"Alive—" Edward nodded "—at home, with Maggie." His thumb wiped a teardrop away from under my eye.

"But—"

"You were right…I was working him too hard. I—I mean, he, um—" he swallowed, taking his hand back "—he started using—snorting coke to keep up, became addicted, um…that's why he's been different. And now…now he's not using, going through withdrawal." He took a deep breath.

"Coke?" My heart sank, but I didn't believe his words. "No…that's—not Sonny." I thought it was comical and unbelievable. "Who told you this? Someone's talking shit. You should know better than to listen to gossip."

"No one needed to tell me. I figured it out, guessed, and Sonny confirmed it." He stood back to take off his coat.

"What…?" I snorted, smiling at the ridiculousness.

"Bella—" Edward came back to me, took hold of my face "—it's true. He was doing that shit—putting it up his nose every day. He has a problem, but he's working through it. He'll be fine. He's got a few days clean, and he'll be all right if he just stays away from that garbage." He pulled me in for a hug.

With my head to his chest, I didn't place my arms around him. "No."

Edward leaned away to look at me. "Bella…"

"No." My lip quivered. "No, no—" A sob caught in my throat, and then I let it go. It was still unbelievable. Not my Sonny, I thought. "You said he'd done it—the stripper, but addicted?"

"I'm sorry." Edward hugged me again. "It's all over the place. It's…We _all_ do it from time to time. Sonny just—"

I pushed him away. "He would never have if—"

"You can't blame me." He rushed out, pointing to himself. "I wasn't sitting there, making him—"

"Oh…but I bet you've done it with him. As soon as you did, you gave him the okay—"

"He's twenty-eight years old!" He spoke with his hands. "Bella—"

"I know how old he is!" I barked. "My God! I was there the day he was born, too. You don't gotta tell me! He came out my fuckin' body—"

"Bella!" He grabbed my shoulders, giving me a slight shake. "Sonny's going to be fine, okay? He acknowledged he had a problem. He's taking care of it—and he's taking precautions to stay away from it. And _I_ made sure—"

"You can't hold this against him—make him an example. He's amazing at what he does. It was just _too_ much," I cried. "Even if he's the boss one day, he'll never have that much work. You know it and I know it. It'll crush him if—"

"I know," he said. "It—what happened today changes nothing. I don't—can't think any less of him. And Maggie knows—"

"Maggie knew?" I shouted.

He nodded. "She knows his attitude—that these outbursts aren't personal. I bet she didn't tell you because it'd break Sonny's trust. That's her husband. She couldn't tell you." Speaking of personal, Edward was acting very impersonal, like he didn't give a fuck.

"I knew something was wrong." I shook my head. "You pushed him! You push and you push and you push…" I kept punching my palm.

"Look, you wanna blame me? Hey, if it'll make you feel better...by all means." That smug bastard held back a chuckle. "I made _sure_…He'll never touch that shit again. He raised his hand to Maggie, and _I_ took care of it." He wiped his hands clean. "Stopped him. You got nothin' to worry about. All right?" He got loud with me.

"Took care of it?" I asked. "How—He raised his hand to her? Tell me—"

Edward let out an exaggerated sigh. "They…Sonny got into her about talking outta turn. He fucking lost it…" He poked his temple. "His hand flinched. I knew he was gonna go for it, so…_I _went for it."

I gasped. "You and Sonny fought?"

He nodded. "I won't lie to you…I'm not proud, and I'm not happy either. It was a harsh way to learn a lesson—"

"What did you do?" I stepped toward him. "Did you hurt him? Is he—is he—" I held my forehead, a worried sick mess. "Is he okay?" Looking my husband over closely, he was disheveled, yet there wasn't a scratch on him.

"What's important is that I stopped him. Who knows if they would've come back from that? She might have left him—most women would…" He trailed off, skirting around shit, and he never does that. Edward will either tell me or hold back, flat-out refuse to tell me, but he'd sooner rip the Band-Aid off quickly, knowing I'll find out sooner or later. He never sugarcoats things either.

"Edward . . ." I waited, my stomach in knots.

"I had…" his shoulders dropped "—I-I-I had Sal and Tommy…"

"What? You had Sal and Tommy, what?" I advanced toward him.

"They…they threw him a beatin'—"

Suddenly enraged, my hand came up and whacked him across the face. "Ahh—" I let out a surprised yelp when Edward grabbed onto my biceps and pushed me back into the wall. He stared into my eyes, as my chest heaved, my teeth gnashing together. "Let go!" I tried to get my arms free.

Edward gritted his teeth, his grip shaking yet strong.

"He raised his hand to her!" I cried out in anger. "Where'd he learn _that_ from?"

My husband was seething, staring into my eyes before his closed. He clamped them shut, his face morphing into one of sadness.

He let me go and dropped down to his knees. "I'm sorry!" He let out a cry filled with anguish, one that softened my vexed heart, but I couldn't forgive him. "I'm sorry." His face crumbled, resting his head to my abdomen, hugging me closely to him. "It's my fault…all of it…I'm so sorry, baby. I failed, Sonny didn't. I failed as his father—"

"God…" I stared up to the ceiling, crying my eyes out and wishing for answers. "Is he okay? I can't believe—"

"I did the right thing," he sobbed. "You don't know—I do. I know…he'll never—"

"Let go of me." I pushed out of the embrace. "I have to go over there." The only thought I had was to make sure my son was all right—needing to see it with my own eyes.

I nearly sprinted down the hall to grab my purse.

"Bella!" Edward called.

"I'm not consoling you!" I shouted. "I don't feel bad for you. You did a horrible thing. Now live with it!" I cringed, so angry I could explode. "I can't believe you did that…to your own son! Not an associate, not just anyone. Your son!" My body stiffened again, my hands balling into fists.

Edward sniffled, getting to his feet to wipe his eyes. "I did the right thing. He'll never do that shit again. I know Sonny. I know that this…It was a warning—"

"A warning before what? He fucks up again, and you put a bullet in his head?" I screamed.

"OH! You know I'd never do that. How can you…How can you even say that?" He started to cry again.

I wanted to tell him how cold and cruel he could be . . .

That when ideas enter his head . . .

When he sees people as flawed, it's easy for him to toss them aside. And I didn't know…that rule might apply to everyone. Although I hoped and prayed, knowing in my heart that Edward would never hurt Sonny . . .

But he did . . .

"I'm going over there," I said. "I'm taking the car if Sal's not out there. I need to make sure he's okay."

"No." He shook his head. "You're not leaving here alone. You hate me right now, but I'll drive you over…I'll drop you off. I gotta go to Carlisle's anyway, and we'll talk about that when we get back." He flipped back to…nothing, acting like nothing was wrong, blocking out the misdeeds of his reality, and I wished I could do that.

"Bella…" He walked toward me.

Cautious, I stepped back.

"Baby…" He showed me his palms.

I swallowed, pushing my hair behind my ears, trying to hold back my tears. "What?"

"He's a grown man, who knows how to lick his wounds . . . I know Sonny. You think what I did was horrible…I do, too, to an extent. I had to make sure, Bella." He pulled me into his arms again. "I had to make sure that he'd never—Aro's thrown me how many beat downs? I'm stupid…I crossed so many fucking lines, and I'm lucky to still have you." He stopped talking, holding his breath, as a cry got stuck his throat. "I'm sorry."

I nodded and whispered, "I know you are."

"I'm sending them to Bermuda as us—"

"What?"

Edward pulled himself back together. "Instead of Sonny going out West—"

"Out West…?" I was confused.

He nodded. "Out West…I was sending him there for a job, but I'm going out there instead. Sonny and Maggie will go to Bermuda. I need an alibi—I'm getting the passports with their photos—"

I groaned, jumping away from him. "I can't believe you!"

"I'm sorry. We'll go away another time."

"You think I give a flying fuck about a vacation?" I spat. "Fucking Bermuda? You're going out to . . . Oh!" I shook my head, remembering our dinner guests last week. "You're going to Vegas to pull a job? Sonny was gonna do it, and now you're doing it…"

"Basically," he whispered.

"And you're just going to leave? While shit is so fucked?" I hit his arm, and maybe we both had issues with our hands. "What's wrong with you?"

"It's Heidi, Bella." He kept his tone hushed. "Some shit's going on. She's in WitSec, obviously for a reason, and that's a huge wild card. It needs to be taken care of as soon as possible—"

"As soon as possible?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "She's been gone forever, since before Sonny was even born—"

"Christ...Just let me talk—"

I narrowed my eyes but bit my tongue.

He groaned. "Will you just listen to me for a second?!"

I gestured for him to continue.

"Aro and I are leaving tomorrow. We're going out there, but I need anyone who would be looking for me to think I'm in Bermuda. Bella, it's happening whether you agree or not. And I really don't want to fight about this."

"Fine." I gave up before I even put up a fight, didn't think I had one in me at the moment. "But you better be careful…" I covered my face, crying into my hands. "Everything was going so well…"

"I know." He wrapped his arms around me, rubbed my back. "It'll go back to being great. You'll see. I promise."

"Yeah." I rasped.

"We weather the storm."

"Right." I wiped my eyes.

"I need you to hide out here—you can't be seen."

"No," I said. "Sonny and Maggie are going away. Dame is fine at school . . ." I tried to think up something. "Get me a car. I'll take Kylie—"

"It's safer if you just stay here. Kylie stays with my brother."

"I—"

"Please don't fight me," he pleaded. "A few days. I won't drag it out. I swear I won't. I'll be home in a few days—I'll be sure to be home before _they _come back."

"Take me to see Sonny . . . I'll grab my purse. You turn off the stove." I turned for my bedroom.

"Bella."

I stopped, leaving my back to him. "Don't . . . I'm just—"

I had no words, and I didn't know who or what I was mad at. But now I had to worry about Edward, and I wasn't sure if my heart could take much more. Then again, things could always be worse. They have been worse, and we got through those times . . .

"I wanna be furious with you."

"You should be." He grasped my hand, turning me around. "Be angry. It's fine." Edward leaned his forehead to mine. "In my heart, I know I did the right thing. And I'm gonna go out there and finish what started all those years ago—shit that don't even concern Sonny. I was only sending him 'cause I can trust him. I still trust him…so while Sonny was roughed up, he's not demoted. He got a vacation 'cause he deserves one…When he comes back, we'll get to being normal again. He'll be over that hill, and I'll have finished that business out in Nevada."

"Okay." I cleared my throat. "But you be careful and you call me." I started crying again, waving my finger at him. "Something doesn't feel right—"

"I'll turn right back around and come home." He placed his lips to mine, fast to deepen the kiss. "It's all going to work…We just have to work together. They go as us, you stay low-key…"

"Can I go with you?"

"What?" He raised a brow. "Bella—"

I shrugged in slow motion. "I'd just stay at the motel while you and Aro did your thing."

"We're not flying out there. We're driving down to Kentucky—then hopping on a plane to Arizona where a car'll be waiting. It'll be days on the road. Aro and me—we're guys; we'll be fine. It'd be uncomfortable for you, and I don't even know if we'll stay in a hotel. Once it's done, we're seriously getting the fuck outta there fast." He nodded. "I'm taking a knapsack, wearing a disguise to boot."

I blew out a breath. "I'm just thinking about how torturous it's going to be—being here alone with literally no one. At least—"

"Kylie won't be able to stay still—stay here for days on end, and anyone who's watching, who has watched, would know we'd never leave her alone."

"Right," I sighed.

Edward furrowed his brow. "You heard that—a sizzling?"

My eyes widened. "The pasta is probably over boiling—spilling over." I walked around him.

"I got it…go get'cha bag." He sprinted down the hall.

Our bedroom was still a mess with clothes all over the bed. I made quick work of getting my purse, not wanting to focus on all that clutter at the present time. When I left the bedroom, I almost bumped into Edward.

"I had a thought." He placed his arm around me, ushering us down the hall. "But when I say you have to be invisible…"

"We'll talk about it when we get back." When it came down to it, my amusement for the next few days didn't make a difference. "Let's just go to Sonny's."

"I'll drop you off. I know shit's cool with Sonny—trust me on that—but Maggie's not my biggest fan right now."

"You truly care for her." I knew that deep down.

"She's good for Sonny. Like you said, she makes him better, and she—" He stopped talking, waving a hand and picking up his coat.

"What?" I pulled my jacket on.

"She's helpless…She's not strong yet. She's not a lot of things yet." He showed me his palms, like even he didn't know what he meant. "She's got a heart of gold…and for some reason—look, I'd have intervened if any broad was about to get decked. You know? I did the right thing."

"There? Yeah, you did." I opened the door. "Did you turn off the stove?"

"Yes." He walked out ahead of me.

The cold air felt refreshing as we walked toward the car. "Should we just walk?"

Edward tilted his head, raising a brow and gesturing to the corner.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**W**_hen we approached their home, my stomach tied in knots again. The sun was currently setting, and no lights were on inside.

"I'm gonna shoot up the block—talk to Carlisle right quick." Edward pulled my collar up, trying to bundle me even more.

"Okay…be careful."

He nodded, placing his hand on my back.

"You're not coming in?" I asked.

"I . . . No, I'd rather not. I'll be back in twenty? Don't wait outside. If anything—Look, I'll call Sal, have him wait in case you're finished before I get back."

"Sure."

He kissed my cheek. "I'm sorry."

I gave a slight nod, turning for the door.

"I'll be back." He pecked my lips and went back down the walkway.

I thought twice about ringing the bell and knocked.

To my surprise, the door gave way, opened right up. It wasn't closed all the way, let alone locked, and that shocked me.

"Ed—" I whipped around to see if Edward was still there. He was standing on the curb, waiting for me to go in. "It's open."

He furrowed his brow. "Maybe it didn't catch when I left." My husband caught up to me and then entered the house. "Stay out here."

_Shit_, I thought, wringing my hands together.

I made sure to hide myself between the hedge and the door just in case.

Edward actually came back out right away, which eased my fear.

"Thank God."

"They're in there," he whispered. "In the bedroom. I doubt they even heard me—might be sleeping. We should just go."

"No…if they're leaving tomorrow…I'll go on in. Are they having sex—"

"No, I think they're sleeping…But, baby, Sonny's in an agitated state right now. I'm not sure. Maybe-maybe you should—"

"I'm not minding my business—not with this. I gotta know he's okay." I took a step into the foyer. "Call Sal…I'll be here."

He sighed, leaning over to kiss me once more. "I'm sure he won't snap again. I'm just—"

"Go." I rubbed his bicep. "Do what you gotta do."

Edward groaned, pulling me in and squeezing me to death. "Bella, I—"

"You're sorry. You love me. I love you, too." I held his cheek. "Go, so you can hurry back." Honestly, I felt badly for cutting him off, but I knew what he was going to say, and I know he loves me, and that he's sorry.

He nipped my lips and took off for the street.

I quickly closed the door, but turned on the foyer light.

Always curious, I checked out the downstairs, not surprised to see a sink full of dishes, a messy countertop, and an unkempt living room. To kill time or to stall, I thought about straightening up a bit. But that would be pushing it—not minding my business.

With a sigh, I started up the stairs. "Sonny?" I whispered.

Receiving no answer, I lightly knocked on their bedroom door. After a second, my presence going unnoticed once again, I poked my head in. The room was dark, but the light coming in through the window allowed me to see them.

Sonny and Maggie were tangled in each other, two lumps on the bed, fast asleep. The sight made me smile and enter.

Hoping not to wake my daughter-in-law, I leaned over the side to sit down on the edge, so I could push Sonny's hair back.

"Sonny…? It's Mom." I kissed his cheek.

He hummed, stirring awake. "Uh."

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

"Get off the bed." He rushed out, his tone hushed. "Get out!" Sonny whined.

I scrambled to my feet, backing up to the door. "I'm sorry."

He cleared his throat and sat up. "What…" He groaned, palming his face, and it sounded like he was in pain.

"Baby…"

Sonny put his hand up. "I'm fine." He turned to give Maggie a smooch on her head, and then left the bedroom, gesturing for me to do the same. "How'd you get in here?"

"The door was unlocked—" I stopped when I saw his face. Truth be told, he wasn't as bruised as I'd imagined. "What happened here today? What's been going on?" I reached for his cheek.

With a slight shake to his head, he looked away from me. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"I know…I'd imagine, I guess."

"Dad told you?" he asked.

"He told me everything, I think." I nodded. "Sal and Tommy did this?"

Sonny gave me a lopsided grin. "My face? Dad did that." He pointed. "Sal and Tommy are my boys…They actually didn't touch my face, but I got the message all the same." He winced, holding his sides. "Don't be mad at Dad." Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. "He—"

"That wasn't the right thing." I shook my head. "You should have told us…We would have been here for you—sent you to rehab or counseling."

"Rehab? No, I knew what I had to do—I did it." He nodded. "I'll be fine now. Coke is fucked, but it's not as bad as…Well, in most ways it's the worst, but I'm fine physically. It's all up here." He pointed to his temple. "I keep trying to remind myself, 'it's the coke', you know? I was out of line. I fucking snapped, lost it . . . I'm glad Dad took me down a peg or two." He shrugged, cringing and reaching for his ribs.

"You agree?" I was surprised. "How—"

"Sometimes fuckers need a beat down. To see the bigger picture, to be calmed—" He sounded like his father.

"Right . . . Maggie's still sleeping?" I looked around him.

"Oh…she was upset, um." He swallowed, gazing to his feet. "She really loves me."

"I could have told you that." I smiled, pointing to his bedroom. "I'm sorry for intruding."

He massaged the back of his neck. "Yeah, the mom and the wife in the same bed…It's—I freaked for a second."

"Gross, I know." All those times Nanny would get in bed with Edward and me came back to haunt me. "I overstepped…Never happen again."

"Cool." He grinned. "I'm sorry for earlier on the phone. I know you were only trying to help." Be that as it may, I still wasn't going to spill the beans about Maggie coming to me.

"Let's get out of the hall. I'll make coffee, you wake up Maggie . . ." I turned for the stairs.

"Believe it or not, she was so upset with Dad. I told her not to be—that she can still trust him." He shrugged. "I didn't realize how close they'd gotten."

"Well, when you see someone every day, when they marry your son…"

"I'm glad he looked out for her…but I gave her a Xanax. She's out cold."

"You, what?" I asked. "Sonny—"

"She was really upset. I expected her to just bounce, leave me, but all she did was cry, and—"

"We're human beings. Sometimes we have to feel what we feel," I disagreed with him. "You can't just medicate someone if they're upset. Especially her, I mean, I—" I blew out a breath. "I know Maggie wasn't as sheltered as Kylie. She's been exposed to many things. But you have to remember, she abstained from a lot without knowledge—just knowing things were wrong or weren't for her. And she trusts you, she loves you, you suggest something . . . Sonny, she'll do it, but only to please you." I poked his chest.

"I'm horrible," he cried into his hands, his back sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "I failed at everything. I—"

"You didn't." I joined him on the carpet. "You excelled at everything, but it became too much. That happens. You're one person. You can't take on the world."

"I want to blame the coke, but no one was forcing me to use." He wiped his eyes.

I nodded, pushing his hair back. "We should go ice this eye." He had one helluva shiner, likely my husband's right hook that can be lethal.

"To be fair, I gave Maggie half of one. I set the alarm—figured we'd sleep, wake up, head to the airport, and things would be better . . . I don't know."

"I hope so. Things never seem as gloomy in the morning, after some rest." I squeezed his hand.

"Sorry about your vacation," he mumbled.

"Yeah…well, Bermuda isn't going anywhere, and this can be like…the honeymoon you guys never had." I remembered they'd gone to Florida. "Well, _another_ trip…You guys can . . . try to work things out without the outside world. I have faith in you and in Maggie, and I think—"

"She's amazing, Mom," he cried. "I can't believe—"

"She loves you so much—admires you." Even if I didn't know the whole story, or what's been going on here lately, I could imagine. "Dad gets angry all the time. I forgive him . . . I can't explain why," I laughed. "I'll admit, though. I'm still mad, and I don't know if I can forgive him for this." I gestured to his face. "But no. It's hard to stay mad at your father—for me."

"I lost it . . . and it could have been a lot worse. I could have literally lost everything. In his own way, Dad was looking out for my best interests. Trust me when I say that. I'm not mad, so don't you be upset." He gave me a watery smile.

"Hey," Maggie whispered, leaving the bedroom.

"You okay?" Sonny held out his hand.

Maggie took it. "I'm just…still tired, I guess." She curled up next to him. "Um…" Her eyes met mine. "I feel like I should be crying." And I wanted to say it was the drugs, why she felt so chill right now, but I wouldn't. "Sorry about Bermuda."

I waved a hand. "That's not important. You guys are."

There were loads of questions I wanted to ask, make sure Maggie was all right, make sure she wasn't going to leave . . .

Again, I didn't.

I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why Sonny and Maggie making it as a couple was so important to me.

It felt like I needed them to be together, knowing that in time they'd excel together, be there for one another—especially if, God forbid, something happened to Edward and me.

Sonny would need her, as he'd be too busy taking care of his siblings . . .

And Maggie—like she's been doing—would care for him.

Judging by their tight embrace, I wanted to trust that they'd be all right.

"Bella?" I heard Edward; he stood at the bottom landing. "You didn't lock the door. What's wrong with you people?"

I didn't answer any of that.

"Maggie?" I asked.

She was staring down at Edward. "Hmm?"

"Um…let's go pick out a few things. Do you have summer clothes?" I had no idea how to leave Edward and Sonny alone.

"That's unnecessary. I know what you're doing," Edward said. "But we gotta go."

Sonny hissed, shaking his head. "You're so stubborn." He turned to Maggie. "Can you give us a minute?"

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, which made me grin and look away. She's turning into some pistol—something I was proud of.

Sonny pushed her hair away. "You always do."

"Come on." I stood up, my knees cracking, making me feel decrepit. "Damn."

"You all right?" Edward asked.

I nodded, reaching for Maggie's hand, so we could enter their bedroom. "Show me your summer clothes," I said it loudly, but never closed the door all the way, placing my finger to my mouth.

"They're in the closet!" Maggie exclaimed, getting in on the ruse, but it was too much.

"Shhh." I waved her away, peeking at Edward as he came up the steps. Maggie placed her cheek to mine, so she could see too.

"Youse aren't subtle at all," my husband shouted.

"Dammit," I whispered, but I didn't go anywhere, hoping they only thought I did. Maggie left me, though—got the hint.

Edward took a seat next to Sonny. "How you feelin'?"

"I'm sorry." My son's face crumbled.

"It's okay." Edward pulled him into his arms, which was long overdue—some softness amongst all this roughness. "Baby, I'm sorry." He held Sonny's head to his chest, kissed his hair. "You're amazing at what you do." My husband had tears in his eyes too. "You're perfect, but you scared the fuck outta me. I did what I had to—"

I backed away, my throat feeling thick.

After a minute of keeping my eyes closed and hoping that feeling would pass, I turned to Maggie.

She sat on the bed, her head drooping to her side, about to knock back out.

"Sweetheart?" I palmed her cheek.

She shot up. "I'm awake."

I grinned. "Just make sure you take a bathing suit. If you don't have shorts, I'm sure Sonny would love—fucking love—to take you on a shopping spree."

"Um." She rubbed her eyes. "I heard we're not allowed to leave the resort."

"It's a big place." I sat next to her. "They'll have shops." In fact, I made sure of that when I booked it. "Even if you don't want to, and not that he deserves it, but in Sonny's way . . . Let him dote. He'll feel the need, the need to make it up to you. Nothing but time and talking it out will truly do that, though. Spending money on you would only make _him_ feel better." I knew that much about him because I knew that much about his father.

"Okay." She nodded, pulling her sleeves down to cover her hands.

"You know what would make me feel better?" I asked.

"What?" She turned to me.

I sat back on the bed and patted my thigh. "Get over here."

She gave me a small grin as she crawled into my lap, like Kylie would do.

"You guys are going to be all right. I promise. You, too, as a person. When all of this is over, it'll seem like it never happened."

And that always happens.

We weather the storm and prepare to ride out a new one.

Even if the times between outbursts always seem too short . . .

We worry, anticipate, although we can never guess what's going to come next.

Over time, Maggie will learn that.

Maybe, just maybe, despite the fact that she's matured immensely, grown up too damn fast these past five months, she still needs her mother—there's still a scared little girl in there.

I knew that much about her because I knew that much about myself.

"You'll see." I rocked us and kissed her hair.

She sighed, resting her head in the crook of my neck, twirling my hair around her fingers, and that made me smile.

Maybe she never had this growing up—this affection from her mother—but I knew this was what she needed.

Sometimes, we just need to know things will be fine, need that reassurance.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sure you know already . . . I didn't hear you and Santino talking before, but…I couldn't tell you."

"It's okay. I'm still happy you came to me. You can always do that." I squeezed her.

"I know . . . Kylie told me."

"Good." I grinned. "I hope—now that things are up in the air—maybe Kylie and I can go someplace, let her live a little, someplace fun." I nodded, noticing her hair smelled like cigarettes. It was very slight but there. "Are you smoking?"

She stiffened. "Kylie will love that."

"Maggie…"

"Um, Tommy gave me one earlier. I didn't even like it." She relaxed against me once more. "Sonny knows…caught me in the backyard," she giggled. "He didn't care—went back to bed. That's when Mr. Cullen stopped by."

"Hmm. He never wants to hurt you . . ." I can't imagine anyone _wanting_ to hurt anyone they loved. "Sometimes…"

"I told him to stop scaring me." She kept her tone low. "He didn't really do anything, and then they started fighting…"

I didn't know if she was covering for Sonny, or if she thought her words true. "Has he ever…?"

"No . . . he gets grabby. I swear. He's never done that." She leaned back to look at me.

"Okay." I nodded. "Grabby still sucks, though."

"I hit him once." She looked down. "Saturday…I—I can understand, how we never mean to hurt the ones we love, but it happens in the heat of passion, I guess."

I sighed, holding her chin. "You're wise beyond your years, but—" That small part inside me, the one who doesn't see her as a woman, or Sonny's wife, wanted to tell her to be a kid whenever she could.

But could she?

"You guys have to lighten up a little. Have fun. Make love, laugh, and have a good time whenever you can. You guys are young. You have forever to fight, bitch about money, and have babies," I laughed. "You guys rushed into this—getting married so soon—but it's cool if you slow down." I nodded. "Before you think about making Sonny happy, make sure that you're happy first…that doing whatever it is will make Maggie happy before you agree to appease him. You'll be much better off in the long run, and Sonny will understand."

"Thank you for saying that," she said.

I kissed her forehead, hugging her close.

That's when the door opened, revealing Edward and Sonny.

"On the bed . . ." Sonny grumbled, gesturing to us. "You want some privacy so youse can make out?"

"Shut up," I said, letting go of his wife.

"Ma, it's weird." He looked to his father. "Help me out here." Their dynamic seemed just fine, both brutes content and back to normal.

I showed him my palms. "In the future, I promise to keep my ass out of your bed. Happy?"

Edward smirked at me from the doorway. "We ready to go?"

I sighed, blowing out a breath, feeling self-satisfaction, and having the faith that things would be okay. "Yeah."

_**Thank you for reading.**_

_**Please leave me your thoughts. **_


	39. Chicken

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a safe and healthy holiday season. Thanks for reading!**

**For the record: "I" did not take Riders off of TwiWrite. My story disappeared. THEY took it down, and I've contacted the site admins WEEKS AGO, and have yet to receive an answer. Idk what I did, especially since it's under the correct rating and such. And it is an 18+ site . . . I have no clue. It's not on TwiWrite. A few of my fics have disappeared. *shrug* I don't have answers for you.**

**Also, for those of you who didn't receive the SU4K compilation of stories, I posted a new Quiet Storm outtake. It's under the Quiet Storm story, Chapter 49. Check it out. **

**NOTE: I hope you all enjoy this breath of fresh air...a lighter chapter, even if it's in Dame's POV. LOL. The next chapter . . . You know what? I can't explain, give rhyme or reason. It is what it is. You'll either enjoy it or you won't. Whatever. They speak to me; I write. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Chicken**

**Damion POV**

**S**ecrets can't hide in science. Medicine has a way of exposing the lies. Within the walls of the hospital, the truth is stripped bare.

How we keep our secrets outside the hospital…?

Well, that's a little different.

One thing is certain . . .

Whatever we're trying to hide, we're never ready when the truth gets naked.

That's the problem with secrets. Like misery, they love company—they pile up and up until they take over . . . Until you don't have room for anything else.

Until you're so full of shit, you feel like you're going to burst.

Jordan kept her word.

Unless it concerns patient care, she doesn't utter a thing…to me.

She hasn't given me the time of day. She's content to ignore me, and I refuse to chase her. Sonny told me to give her time, but it's almost been a whole week.

In two days, it'll be a week…one of the longest weeks of my life.

My eyes tend to linger when she's around. They just have a way of finding her, or know when she's around—they go right to her.

She's caught me staring quite a few times, too.

Jordan—who previously didn't give a shit about her appearance—is now doing her hair and wearing makeup to work. I think she's doing it to torture me, or she's in the market . . . for a new fuck-buddy.

The thought alone ticked me off, and I nearly snapped the Bic pen within my grasp in half.

"Really?" Jordan asked Rodriguez, our resident, excitedly.

It brought my attention over to them.

"Definitely." He smiled back.

"Oh…I should finish my notes…unless there's no time? I can do them after—"

"Procedure starts in thirty minutes. Do whatever, and I'll see you down there." He squeezed her shoulder before he walked off.

I swallowed the bile back down and studied the chart in my hands as Rodriguez sidled up to me.

"She's looking good, huh?"

I raised a brow, managing to conjure half of a smile. "Who, Yogi?"

He grinned, looking back over to her. "She lost weight."

I didn't comment, but I disagreed. She hasn't lost a pound. Jordan has just taken to wearing scrubs that are actually formfitting. They're not as loose as the tent-like ones she used to rock.

The new ones show off her hourglass figure nicely . . .

"I'm flying solo—lap chole. You can come watch, too . . . Or you can chill in the pit with Mackay until it's time to go."

"Cool," I said, knowing I'd rather chill in the ER, especially since our shift ends in ninety minutes. If I went down to the surgical wing and watched the procedure, I'd likely be made to see the patient through to recovery . . .

I'd be here until late tonight.

And I'd rather sulk in my room, or maybe I could go to the bar…chill out with Ethan?

Nevertheless, Rodriguez patted my back and walked off.

When Jordan's eyes met mine, from over the chart she read, I averted my gaze quickly.

What game was she playing?

Was she trying to make me jealous?

Whatever she was doing was working, being all smiley and sweet to that asshole . . . I mean, Jordan doesn't know what they call her behind her back. I never said a word, not wanting to hurt her feelings. If I brought it up now, I'd be the ass—it wouldn't sound genuine.

So, she won't speak to me, yet she's content to jump through hoops to get reactions out of me? I'm a champion at hiding my emotions.

Her attempts are futile . . .

Well, maybe not.

Also, what if she's not doing this to bother me? What if she's truly looking for a man? And if she is, then why am I wasting all this time thinking about her?

Jordan doesn't know some things about me. Like, how soon—I don't know when exactly—I'll stop caring and move on, or just stay the same because I have no life outside this hospital. Either way, sooner or later, I wouldn't give a fuck.

Something had to give…

'Cause I know.

As soon as I lose interest, she'll be knocking on my door…

All females are like that.

Then again, the sight of Rodriguez in a scrub cap might do it for her . . . She could jump his bones and forget about me. He's a resident. I am no one, and she gets off on that shit . . . power and/or medical personnel, scrub caps, smart minds…men who know their shit.

But when she walked toward me, stopped at the counter and reached for a chart, her arm brushed against mine, and a sigh fell from her mouth.

I moved away an inch, feeling all this tension to my right, but I refused to look—acknowledge her.

When it didn't look like Jordan was leaving any time soon, I took my new cell phone out of my pocket. Sonny hooked me up with a top of the line iPhone. My old one was nothing special. This thing could probably detonate nuclear bombs and shit. It took a while for me to get used to it, too—work out the mechanics.

Gazing at the screen, I saw I had two missed calls: one from my brother and another from Maggie. Curious, since I've been keeping touch with both of them, I went to . . . call Maggie back, knowing Sonny was likely busy or at La Bella Italia already.

Luckily or ironically . . . I mean, sometimes, in life, shit just works out.

Things happen for reasons unknown to me; my phone buzzed in my palm.

It was Maggie calling me again.

"Hello?" I answered and saw Jordan peep me in her periphery.

"_Oh, hey."_ Maggie sounded tired and cleared her throat. _"Sorry to bother you."_

I grinned. "For you? Feel free to bother me whenever. It's no bother."

Jordan snorted so low, probably thought I couldn't or didn't hear it, but I did.

"So, what can I do for you, sweetheart?" I asked.

"_Um…nothing. I know you were supposed to come over tomorrow—"_

"I'm looking forward to it, meeting up with you," I lied.

All I've been doing is checking in with my brother, making sure he doesn't kill his wife. I've also been giving him physicals, even though he's okay physically. You never know, though, so I listen to his ticker.

"_We won't be here,"_ Maggie said through a yawn.

"Oh…I was looking forward to seeing you, baby."

"_Baby?"_ Maggie exclaimed. _"I don't, um, don't be weird again. Please?" _

I chuckled. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

"_Good. Hang on. Santino wanted to talk to you."_ There we muffled sounds. She was likely going to get Sonny, and I took a peek at Jordan.

She was still stuck on the same CBC she was reading five minutes ago.

"_Santino…?"_ Maggie asked. _"Oh, sorry."_

"_Close the door."_ Sonny actually laughed, seemed like he was in a lighter mood than he's been in.

Maggie guffawed. _"Oh my gosh…he's pooping. He'll call you later."_

I let out a small chuckle. "Love it when you do that." And I said it low, hoping Jordan would hear, but Maggie wouldn't.

Unfortunately, Maggie had heard me._ "What? When I poop? I don't understand. Don't be a weirdo, Dame."_ Maggie was confused, and I'd tell her all about it at another time—why I was talking to her like this. _"We had drama here before." _

"Really?" Now she had all my attention; I was leaning my elbow up onto the counter, blocking Jordan from sight. "What happened? You need me there now?"

"_No…no. Everything's okay now. Well, sorta. Your mom was here and everything—she set it right. I'll let Santino fill you in on the rest. I just…I had to talk to someone, and I know we haven't always gotten along…and now you're being weird." _

I clamped my eyes closed, rubbing my face with my palm. "You can always talk to me…You know that." We've developed a small bond with the both of us worried sick about Sonny, trying to help him.

We're allies now, the coke police.

"_Santino will call you . . . but we won't be around for a few days." _

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"_I can't…you know." _

"I _do_ know." I made it sound suggestive, my previous objections not forgotten.

"_Right . . . Santino will call you soon. You take care. Bye."_ Maggie ended the call; she hung up.

I smiled brightly. "I miss you, too. We'll talk later, all right, baby?" No one else was on the other end, and I was officially talking to myself. "Goodnight, sweetie," I laughed. "All right . . . No, you hang up." I waited like an ass, counting to five in my head. "No, _you_ hang up."

"Just fucking hang up already. Christ!" Jordan threw her hands up, rapidly walking away from the nurses' station.

Satisfied with that, and myself, I placed my phone in my pocket.

Ecstatic, I followed after Jordan. She'd walked down the hall toward the stairs.

I was happy because—for the past week, I'd been waiting for a reaction, for her to acknowledge me. Good, bad, or ugly, I didn't give a fuck. I wanted her attention, and I finally had it—by fucking with her head.

Before I entered the stairwell, I spied her through the small window. Jordan was sitting on a step, her head on her folded arms that rested on her knees, like she was crying.

Thinking her ridiculous now—I mean, tears? That's too much, and I'm right here if she wants me—I pushed the door open. "What's wrong?" I asked.

She lifted her head, a scowl marring her beautiful face. Jordan wasn't crying, either.

_Huh? _

"Nothing," she said.

"You stormed off all dramatic-like." I sat down next to her. "That's not like you." And I held back a snigger.

She scooted farther away. "You were just . . . You were being . . . I don't know." She stood up and went to leave.

I yanked on her hand, making her fall into my lap. "Can you stop your shit? Please!" I was nearly begging now, not giving a fuck if my actions were too bold. "Please, baby?" My tone was a whisper, her lips so close to mine . . . It was hard not to kiss her, but that would be going too far.

She pushed herself off of me, got back to her feet. "No. I told you . . . We weren't anything, right? Nothing mattered."

"You know that's not true," I sighed.

"It was for me. I don't care about you like that." She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "And how dare you? Stop _my_ shit? Who was that? Amelia? Crying you another river? Are you guys back on?"

I bit my lips together to hide my grin. "If you don't care . . ."

"I don't." She's just as stubborn as the rest of the females in my life.

"Why ask?" I held up my palms. "If…you don't care."

She shook her head, wouldn't look at me. "You lied."

"I had to . . . but everything else, Jordan." I swallowed, my stomach in knots as I pushed off the step. "Everything else that was me and you—" I waved a finger "—all of that was true. The way I felt, the things I said, the way I felt about you, how I still feel, how beautiful…" I pushed her hair behind her ear. "I only lied about my family. And not even…really. Everything I said _about_ them was true. I only denied what you'd asked."

She nodded, studying her shoes.

"Guess I'll see you in the O.R.?" Even so, even if everything I'd just said was true, I didn't want Jordan to think…that Rodriguez was treating her differently, special.

_I'm an asshole. _

"Rodriguez said I might be able to scrub. He invited you down, too, didn't he?" I winced. "Sorry if he didn't."

She didn't reply.

And I was . . .

There was a fork in my road of life.

But I had no idea what else to say.

Ignoring each other seemed like a ticking time bomb, the sexual tension—just the tension between us was unbearable.

The truth just got me nowhere . . .

Fucking with her head only granted me this one moment, and I was blowing it—not knowing any-fucking-thing.

Between the both of us, we're pretty fucking clueless when it comes to love, relationships, and the like.

Hey, she hasn't said much.

Maybe she really doesn't give a fuck—our relationship or whatever it was might have been one-sided.

"I was talking to Maggie…Sonny's wife."

"Your sister-in-law . . . You talk to her like that?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Like what?" I played it off so she'd think it was in her head.

_I'm an asshole. _

But doing nothing wasn't getting me anywhere, so that's where the games come to play.

"She's young, likes to play phone games—who hangs up on who." I rolled my eyes. "I'll see ya." I went to pat her back but though better, leaving the stairwell and feeling like I hadn't gotten anywhere.

Maybe it was time to just cut my losses?

However, just having those few minutes to get shit off my chest, tell Jordan the truth—because I think she believed that I lied—felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

Arriving at my dorm, I racked my brain for something to do. Ethan really hit it off with Melinda, and they were currently occupying our room—the scarf on the door. I didn't feel like going to Brooklyn, nor did I anticipate a phone call from Sonny.

Mom would tell me what's up and they're going on vacation tomorrow, so I called her to see what was up and to wish her bon voyage.

She didn't answer, which I thought was odd.

When I called my father, he answered on the third ring, out of breath. _"Hello?"_

"You okay?"

"_Are _you_ okay?"_ He panted.

"Uh, yeah. Just checking in…wanted to say goodbye before you guys left."

"_I can't talk right now…but you're good?"_ he asked.

"Where's Mom?" I furrowed my brow.

Dad groaned, sucked his teeth, and then my mother greeted me, _"Hey, baby." _She sounded winded as well.

"Oh, fuck. My bad." I cringed, as they were obviously fucking.

"_Um . . . What?"_ She hummed and then giggled, "Edward, stop."

I took my phone from ear to look at it before I ended the call.

At a loss, sitting in the quiet common room, I left the sofa. Then I left the building to walk over to the chicken spot. It has a pay phone—a dying breed here in New York—and I'd be able to call Sonny.

After I bought a bucket of fried chicken, I took out my phone to look at my contacts. Sonny gets a new prepaid cell phone every week—sometimes twice a week if some shit is going down. Those phones can't be tapped or tracked.

"Yo!" Sonny boomed.

"What the fuck's going on?" I asked, chewing.

"What are you eating? I'm fucking hungry again." Sonny's tone was low, like he was talking to himself.

"You sound good," I commented. "And I'm eating chicken."

"Chicken . . ." he mused. "Maggie, my love. You want chicken?" His tone was sweet, which . . . He hasn't been sweet to Maggie at all. The past week he's been taking his anger out on her. I even suggested she go stay with my parents until Sonny got his shit together.

I couldn't be there every second, no matter if my father has my dean by the balls.

"What's up, bro?" I shook my head.

"Nothing." Now there was a crinkling sound.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Frozen broccoli . . . got into it with Sal and Tommy."

My eyes widened. "Why?"

"Bullshit. Don't worry about it. I just—I can't get into it, not now. I'm hoping to put today and the last two months behind me. Know what I mean?"

"I do." I nodded. "You're going away, too?"

He didn't answer me right away. "Yeah . . . Look, you have any problems, you go to Carlisle. It just worked out this way. Aro's going somewheres . . . Mom and Dad are heading to Bermuda, and Dad gave me the OK to head out with Mag. We'll be in the Poconos for a few days."

"Sounds cool. But are you okay to be . . . alone with Maggie?" I briefly had a horrible thought of Sonny going out to the woods with Maggie but not coming back with her. His temper has been horrible, the worst it's ever been, and my only hope was that his immense love for her would make him stop his shit.

"I'm good, bro. I swear to Christ. I was buggin', but I have my head now. I'm good."

"Okay," I said. "You're—"

"Damion, I'm sure. All right?" His tone was playful, not aggressive. "And I wanna thank you for—not only having my back—but having Maggie's as well."

I grinned. "Don't mention it."

"I have a lot of . . . making up to do. I should die—fucking put a bullet in my dome and be done with it."

"What?" I shouted. "Sonny—"

I heard a door close on the other end. "You don't know, Dame. You. Don't. Know."

"I can be there in twenty. Just—"

He sighed. "I'm not going to do anything stupid—not anymore. I've fucked up enough for three lifetimes. And Maggie, she's—she's not even holding a grudge. I want—I need her to hate me, and she won't. I don't understand."

"Neither do I." I was honest. "She knows it's not personal; I told her that. Why should she hate you?"

"Because I'm a piece-of-shit husband, that's why." He sniffled.

"You're not. You're just…going through some shit. You'll be fine. I know it. You know it, and Maggie knows—"

"You don't know."

"What are you trying to tell me?" I asked.

He was quiet again. "I can't even…but I should die. Thank God for Dad. He—" Sonny abruptly stopped speaking. "He knows what's up."

"How? Did Maggie tell Mom?" My stomach was in knots, but then I was confused again. My parents were just fucking their brains out . . .

"No, Dad guessed. Listen, lemme go. I have to brainstorm, think of ways to make it up to Maggie. She's packing for us now . . . I just—"

"Get some rest. Okay? If you need anything, you call me. Even if you're up in the mountains. You know? I'll get a whip and go up there."

"Thank you." He sounded weepy again.

"Sonny…" My heart broke for him; meanwhile, I still had no idea what had gone down today.

"I love you . . . We'll catch up when we get back."

"I love you, too. But you—" He ended the call before I could finish my sentence, but I hope he calls if he needs anything.

I slowly hung up the phone and then turned from the booth.

Some homeless dude actually stood there expectantly, and I had no idea how long he'd been behind me.

"Hey, man…Can I get some chicken?" His clothes were dirty and he stank of booze.

And I handed him a wing.

"God bless you." He went to touch me.

I backed up, leaned away. "Enjoy."

In the blustery, wintery cold of February, I walked along the avenue back to the dorms, hugging my bucket of chicken close to my chest.

My food was likely cold now, but it seemed like that'd be the only thing I'd be holding for a while—me and my deep fried poultry, my only friend.

I chuckled but composed myself quickly when I passed by a pharmacy.

There were hearts and teddy bears in the window display.

That's when I realized tomorrow's Valentine's Day.

_Stupid fucking holiday. _

I tore into a drumstick and kept it moving, quickly walking to my building.

Once in my hallway, I got a Pepsi out of the machine, and then went for my room. The scarf was still there, so I kicked the door—out of spite and jealousy. It looked like I'd be sleeping in the common room.

The bucket of chicken, my soda, and my ass got settled on the sofa. It was late, nearly ten o'clock, but I wasn't alone. Some chick sat across from me. She was a skinny blonde, who had books littered around her.

"Hey…" I said.

Her eyes flashed to me, went back to her book, but then she looked at me again. "Hi…" She grinned.

I gave her a small wave, and I'd seen her around here before. That doesn't mean I know her. The woman I was obsessed with . . . I worked with Jordan every day and never knew she lived a few floors above me. "Locked outta your room?" I asked.

She blew out a breath, puffing her cheeks. "Yup."

"What are you working on?" I was curious, as I sipped from my soda.

Her shoulders dropped. "Getting a head start on my dissertation. You?"

I raised a brow, looking down to my chicken. "You want?" I held out the bucket.

She giggled, acting shy and shaking her head. "I'm Pam."

"Damion." I pointed to myself.

"You're in the med program." She nodded.

"Yeah . . ." I wondered how she knew that.

"I see you in your lab coat sometimes."

"Right." I nodded. "So, you're just Pam…?"

"Pamela Marquis." She had an accent when she said her last name.

"Damion…McCullen," I lied, reaching over to shake her hand, and I didn't know why I lied. After all, with the way things have been going, she could be the love my life . . . although I wasn't attracted to her at all. She wore socks with flip-flops, and . . . Well, most people around here wear sock with flip-flops. It's winter and all.

"Irish?" she asked.

"Okay." I bit into a chicken thigh and asked, "You sure you don't want?" with a mouthful.

She laughed, her cheeks flushing crimson. "No, thank you."

I sighed, relaxing back. But then a shiver ran through me when the front door opened, cold air invading the space. "Shit."

"Um . . . I—" Pam lifted, showed me the blanket that covered her thighs. "Sorry. Forget it." I wondered if all college chicks were easy—loose. What the fuck was this? It seemed, the ones I'd interacted with, were that way.

However, just because she blushes when she looks at me, offered me her blanket, didn't mean she wanted to sleep with me.

Or did it?

"I'm good. Thank you." I should tell her—medically speaking—that our naked bodies intertwined would heat us up faster.

I mean, WWSD?

What would Sonny do? If he was single . . . and lonely?

He would have been under that blanket, halfway to some swanky hotel by now.

Alas, I am not Sonny, nor do I have the funds to take . . . Pam to a fancy hotel.

All I had to offer her was chicken.

Pam continued to read, or she tried to. Every once in a while she'd look at me, and I'd pretend not to notice. The quiet was welcomed, and I ate in peace.

When I heard someone stomping down the stairs, I looked over my shoulder. Some dude I did not recognize waved to Pam, and then the cold wind blew through as he left.

"Finally . . ." Pam gathered her books. "That's my roommate's boyfriend . . ."

"Seems like a nice guy." I smiled.

She laughed, looking at me again, down to her books, and back to me once more. "It's cold down here . . . I mean, do you want company, or…um, I mean," she giggled, rolling her eyes.

"I'm cool. Go get warm." I didn't know what to say.

"Annie won't mind if you come up . . ." She trailed off, leaving the other sofa with her blanket, which touched the floor.

I got to my feet to right the blanket so it wouldn't get dirty. "I'm good here. Thank you."

"Annie's a drag." She plopped down onto my couch, staring up at me.

"Okay." I grabbed my bucket and sat next to her.

"What's your favorite part about the med program?"

I furrowed my brow. "What graduate program are you in?"

"Oh." She smiled. "I'm a psych major."

I blinked, piece of chicken raised to my lips, and I hated her now. "That's—that's something." Now she'll analyze me until I made a quick getaway.

When the front door flew open a third time, I was surprised to see hurricane Jordan storm through. Her hair was now a wreck, her nose pink from the cold. She shivered, pausing in the foyer for a minute.

"I mean, yeah. I like it . . ." Pam kept speaking, she droned on and on, but when Jordan met my gaze, I zoned out. "My professors are awesome . . ."

She stared daggers at me, was likely imagining my death, and I had no idea why . . . until I realized I was sitting in the same room with another female.

_The horror!_

Well, we were on the same couch.

"You planned this!" Jordan exclaimed.

I held my palms out. "I—"

"Don't mess with my head!" She walked toward me, and I thought she was going to hit me. "I hate you!" Jordan stole my bucket of chicken. "Gimme that Pepsi. You don't deserve Pepsi!" My soda was gone, too, and then she made a beeline for the stairs.

As soon as she was out of sight, I couldn't help myself and laughed my ass off.

"Is she your ex or something? She lives on my floor—is very quiet." Pam stared at me.

"Um, she's something, all right." I just kept smiling. "It was very nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She nodded. "If…you're single…can I give you my number?"

Fifteen minutes ago, I would have given her my number, but only because I thought I was single. Now, after that display, I knew there was hope—Jordan cared more than she wanted to admit.

"I'm not single, but thank you for keeping me company. I've gotta go get my chicken back."

Pam chuckled. "Well . . . have a good night." She left the sofa.

I followed her to the elevator. "Thanks. You, too."

We both went for the button, and then an awkward laugh ensued. The ride up to the fifth floor wasn't too bad, the silence was cool. But when we left the elevator, Pam went right, and my eyes went left.

Jordan was eating the chicken, pacing by the stairs.

Hoping to get her attention again, I quickly turned . . . like I was trailing after Pam, going to her room.

"You motherfucker!" Jordan shouted, and something hit my head.

Looking down, it was a chicken breast. Jordan also had my attention and Pam's attention, and she was just entering her room.

"What?" I hollered back. "Why am I a motherfucker?"

"You—" She pointed to Pam, who wasn't there anymore. She'd gone into her room and closed the door.

"I, what?" I walked toward Jordan. Speaking of, her room was two off from Pam's, so my next line was stellar. "I was just coming up to see you."

She looked behind me. "Oh." Jordan visibly relaxed.

"I wanted my dinner!" I snatched the bucket away from her. "What's your problem? You ignore me for a week, and now you're fucking with me? You gotta problem with everything I do."

"Not _every_thing!"

"Yes, _everything_. I was just sitting on a couch, and you hijack my dinner? I don't think so." This was so funny to me. While Jordan looked like she wanted to kill me, I was trying not to laugh. "Can you stop?"

"You stop!"

I groaned. "You're acting like a child . . . and what's this?" I tossed her hair away from her shoulder. "Wasting your anti-frizz shit on those cats? You never did that shit for me on the reg—wearing makeup, showing everyone your ass." I looked her up and down, and now I was getting angry.

Jordan's chest heaved, fire in her eyes. "It's none of your business."

I nodded, backing away. "You're right. I told you…All I wanted was the chance to tell you what I did earlier. And now…whatever. Now you know the truth. What you do with it . . . Hey, I had a good time nonetheless. Okay? Can we be friends?"

She calmed down again, fiddling with the fringe on her scarf, her eyes on the floor. "We can be friends," she whispered. "But…"

"But?" I stepped closer, 'cause being friends is better than nothing.

"I think we should only be friends—friends and that's it." She blew out a breath.

I nodded, taking one more step . . . just one more, which had our feet and chests almost touching.

I was tired of being away from her—the games, ignoring each other . . .

And standing in this one spot . . . so close and not touching . . . it was bittersweet.

It was a feat that we were in such proximity, and sad because she wasn't in my arms.

From where I was, I could finally smell her shampoo again. "Is that really what you want?" I couldn't help myself, crossing the line and lifting her chin.

Soon, my hand spanned her cheek, marveling at how soft her skin was, how cold it was from being outside, and how I felt so alive . . . getting excited because of the chaste contact.

"Yes," she whispered, leaning into my hand.

I spread my fingers, brushing her hair back. "And you're sure?"

"Yes." Her voice broke.

Meeting her gaze, I saw she was crying. "Okay." I held my breath, leaning in and kissing each tear away, reveling in the salty taste on my lips. "You know where I am . . ." I touched my nose to hers. "If you change your mind . . ."

"I'll—I'll know where to find you." She gulped and licked her lips.

I grinned, wanting to take her into my arms so badly—just grab onto her ass, drag her into her room and never come out, just hold on—hold on to her. "It's cold…but do you wanna share?" I held up the chicken.

She giggled, wiping her face. "Who says no to fried chicken?" She was smiling but then started crying again.

"Hey…" I grabbed her hand. "I meant what I said before. I told you one lie…just one."

She sniffled. "I'll stop my shit."

I swore my heart skipped a beat, my stomach in a knot again. "You—"

"I missed you." Her lip quivered.

I pulled her into my arms, hugging her tightly, and I only had one hand to grab her ass with. But that was okay. My lips found hers quickly, yet I didn't get carried away. "I missed you, too."

Jordan didn't say anything. She just continued to hug me, burying her head into my chest. I swayed us from side to side, the biggest smile on my face.

"I really, really missed you, Jordan." I kissed her hair.

"I only wore makeup and stuff to mess with your head."

"I freaked my sister-in-law out while trying to make you jealous," I laughed. "Sitting with that chick was just coincidental. She's a psych major—whatever."

Jordan gasped. "Not a psych major!" She leaned away, grinning.

"You know how I feel about that." With her hand tucked in mine, we walked toward her room.

"'Cause God forbid anyone find out how screwed up you really are."

I stopped us from going into her room. "I fucking missed you so much." I had to get that out again, and I'd likely tell her once more some time tonight.

"No secrets this time."

I nodded. "No one else either. I know we didn't have rules before, but this time…I think we should make some."

"Cool." She placed her key into the door. "How 'bout . . . We only fuck each other, and the rest we'll make up as we go along?"

"I can live with that." I followed Jordan into her room.

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**See you next week! CH40 we'll hear from Edward and Bella!**_


	40. On the Road

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA. **

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Forty: On the Road**

**BELLA POV**

_**W**_hen it comes to my husband, I learned a long time ago that I don't need to like him to fuck him. Even if things were cool between Edward and Sonny—they'd had that heart-to-heart—I was still upset with him, my husband. But it's kind of hard to remember why when he's about to go across the country, to do some shifty shit, and he's giving you orgasm after orgasm.

We fucked on top of a mountain of clothes, and I didn't care.

After all, they're just clothes.

Once we'd finished making love and I was about to pass out, Edward decided it was time to talk. I'd honestly felt we'd done enough talking, but then remembered something. Damion had called . . . and I hopped up to call him back. But then Edward said he was fine, just checking in, before he went on about my options for the next few days.

I didn't care about what I did. I could rearrange the kitchen cabinets, give this place a good cleaning, not like the once over I usually give it every week. Vacuum every square inch.

Basically, just do anything and everything to keep my ass busy.

But Edward had a better idea.

**/=/=/=/=/**

The alarm clock was set for six a.m., and I was surprised when it went off—surprised to see Edward's side empty. I knew he was leaving with Aro early, but I thought . . .

I thought I'd see him before he left.

My face crumbled and I cried, hugging his pillow close to my chest. We'd only gone to bed three hours prior, but if I had to guess . . . My husband never went to sleep. He waited until I fell out and then took off.

I knew he was leaving . . .

I just . . .

After wiping my eyes clean and composing myself, I noticed the note on Edward's nightstand. It was next to a clear, plastic bag filled with cash.

_Bella, _

_I didn't wanna wake you. I'll be in touch, and you got my number. _

_Try not to use it. Be careful and listen to my brother. _

_Your nine is loaded and in your purse, and we'll be together before you know it._

_You won't even miss my ass, that's how much fun you'll have with Kylie. I love you. _

_Stars in the sky, _

_Edward. _

_P.S. Stop crying and take ALL the money with you. Buy shit. _

I giggled and kissed the piece of paper, my hand itching to grab my cell phone and call him. That's when I remembered I had a new prepaid cell I'd be using for the next five days. I wasn't even supposed to turn my regular cell on, nor was I to take it with me.

Being with Kylie for days without her cell was going to be torture.

But worth it.

Since I'd packed a small bag along with Edward's last night, I didn't have to do much besides shower and get dressed, and load all that cash, the nine, and my silencer into my huge purse before Carlisle arrived.

My husband left me ten grand in c-notes, and I had no idea what he thought I'd do with all that money.

At 7:30, Carlisle pulled into the driveway with a cranky Kylie in his passenger side. I opened the garage to let his car in.

Kylie opened her window. "What's going on? Where's Dad?"

I placed my finger to my mouth. "We'll talk."

She blew out a breath, leaning back. "What now?"

I jerked a thumb. "You get in the back."

"Duck," Carlisle added.

"Why?" My daughter was alarmed as she scooted into the backseat.

"So many questions." My brother-in-law shook his head. "Gimme your cell." He held his hand out for Kylie's. Surprisingly, my daughter didn't make a fuss and handed it right over. "Just put it wherever." He gave it to me.

In turn, I shut it off and placed it on the washing machine. It'd be just fine there until we returned.

"Mom, what's going on?" Kylie asked again. "What if Gio…?"

"Everything's fine." I fastened my baseball cap, putting my sunglasses on. "Just lay down, keep your head out of sight." Then I hopped into Carlisle's car.

Kylie did as instructed, but I felt badly. She looked scared out of her mind.

I made sure to keep myself from being seen, too, and made light conversation with them both as we drove along the quiet streets and then veered onto the highway. Carlisle spoke about how cute Kylie is with the twins, while my daughter laughed along and made faces.

Unfortunately, we didn't stop for coffee. We did, however, make it out of the city without being followed or seen. When we made it to Westchester, Carlisle pulled into a rest stop.

"The car's on the second level. You guys stay here while I get it." He left the car, and I placed my hand in my purse to grasp my silenced nine—just in case.

To be clear, we were actually hiding out from Feds, not necessarily enemies—although the F.B.I. aren't our allies . . . and Kylie and me being alone would make us easy targets.

"Can you tell me what's going on? Why I gotta wear this ugly thing?" Kylie pointed to the pink cadet hat on her head. I remembered when Alex bought it. She'd paid a fortune for it years back, only to realize she wasn't a hat person. My guess is Carlisle grabbed anything from her closet to disguise Kylie.

We were only shielding our hair and eyes, wearing shades, too.

"'Cause . . ." I had no idea what to tell her. "It's a safety precaution. You and me are going away for a few days—just us. We won't have a driver or anyone following us. It's just us."

"What?" She blinked, staring at me.

I grinned. "Just you—" I poked her nose "—and me."

The side of her mouth pulled into a lopsided smile. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." I nodded. "We can do anything you want."

She gasped. "Can we fly down to Texas—"

"No," I laughed, shooting that down real fast.

"Oh…" Her pout didn't last long. "What happened to Bermuda?"

I chewed my lip for a second. "It didn't work out. Something came up for Dad, so—"

She snorted. "Dude, _we_ could go."

"I gave up the, um, our seats, the plane tickets." As she's gotten older, it's become increasingly harder to lie to her. Not because she knows I'm being dishonest, because I just don't like to. "So, what do you wanna do? I mean, Dad's not around. Gio's in Texas. We have no one following . . . Your uncle just went to get us some wheels."

"Wow." She beamed. "I—I—I have no idea. Can we pick up Dame? Or Maggie? She's having a tough time with Sonny—don't tell her I told you."

I shook my head, a frown on. "What's wrong with it being just us?"

"Nothing, I guess." She shrugged. "Nothing at all. I just figured—"

Our heads whipped to our right when a car pulled up. Carlisle was driving a black Chevy Silverado, and I wondered what my husband was thinking when he got us that. The windows were tinted; we could haul shit in the cab . . .

He figured we'd go shopping.

When Carlisle left the large truck, Kylie, our bags, and I scurried into it.

"I'll follow you a few miles—make sure no one's following _us_. Cool?" he asked, likely doing what Edward said. I know my husband wants to know exactly where we are.

I buckled my seatbelt. "Cool."

"You call me if anything…"

I nodded, adjusting the seat.

"If you're tired, there's a hotel in the cut out here. I could lead you there—you guys can figure out what's up...?" That didn't sound like a bad idea. Especially since we could hide out for a day and then take off without Carlisle knowing where we were going.

"Yeah, sounds good," I said. "Should I follow you . . .?"

"Yeah, follow me, and I'll keep a look out." He walked around his Mercedes and hopped in.

"You ready, kid?" I looked over to Kylie.

"Ready, Freddy!" She went to take off her hat.

I stopped her. "Not yet."

"Oh…" She slumped low as I pulled out of the parking spot.

My brother in-law lied. The hotel that was "only a few miles away" was actually more like fifty miles away. My eyes were getting droopy without my morning coffee and without any sleep . . .

Luckily, when I was just about to call Carlisle, he pulled onto a narrow road on the Pennsylvania border. We were north, just west of Middletown, actually.

My brows rose as I sighed and gave my sleeping daughter a fleeting glance. Carlisle led us all the way up here for a reason, and I wouldn't be surprised if my husband had already called Emmett—told my brother to look out for us, or to expect our arrival.

It wasn't a bad idea, to hide out in Middletown a couple of days. But there was no way we could stay at Emmett's for five whole days.

I figured we'd stay here at this hotel, check out the outlet malls, spend Edward's money—which will make Kylie's year—and then we could go stay with Emmett or Alice.

Suddenly, my stomach tied in knots, anxious and anticipating visiting my brother and Rosalie, and most of all Alice . . .

As we get older, we focus more on our immediate family. Priorities change. As the years rolled on, we all remained close, although we can go months without seeing each other.

"The Comfort Inn?" Kylie yawned. "Do you think they have room service?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so." It was a regular, no-frills hotel, which didn't bother me. I didn't need anything special.

At that moment, a thought came to me . . .

My mother rarely visits, and we'd never recovered from that fight we had when Kylie was a toddler. Renee still lives in that old house that's falling apart. Emmett does what he can when he can, but our mother is still stubborn, and now slowly losing her mind, I think.

Kylie has never been there. She's been to BBQs and shit at Alice's or Emmett's. And even if she doesn't think so, she's lived a very privileged and charmed life, one very different from my upbringing.

I wanted the next few days to be more of a reality check, not so much a vacation.

I didn't want to take her shopping . . .

"This place is great," I commented, leaving the cab with my purse.

Kylie followed as we walked over to the Mercedes. "But—"

I ignored her, facing Carlisle. "We can take it from here." There were other cars parked, but not a soul around. It was still very early in the morning.

"I'll check youse in. Be right back." Carlisle was going to be as chivalrous as Edward made him promise to be.

I sighed, reaching into his car for a cigarette, needing one to wake up my brain.

Kylie gasped. "Since when do you smoke cigarettes?"

I grinned, blowing my smoke out. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me…about us, your father and I."

She furrowed her brow. "What's there to know?"

I hummed, not saying more.

"When can you tell me—"

"Just relax. You're safe," I whispered.

She puffed her cheeks, looking around. "There's a Burger King . . . Can we get breakfast?"

I nodded. "We can do that. Go 'head." I pointed right across the street. "You have money, right? Get me a coffee. Light and sweet."

"Walk…?" she laughed. "Me, by myself?"

I beamed at my baby girl. "Remember to look both ways." It was more of a small highway, a road than a street. "Get your uncle a coffee, too."

"Um…" She stepped backward. "Are-are you—"

"I'm sure." I nodded. "If you're not back in fifteen, I know to go look." I flicked the ashes off the cigarette and shrugged a shoulder.

"Do you have money? Because—" She didn't want to spend her own.

I scrunched my nose. "I'd have to get to an ATM. You have cash. Dad gave you money."

"ATM…?" She knew that was bullshit.

"Just go."

Kylie was wary, but she eventually turned toward the fast food joint and walked on.

Trust me; I made sure to keep her in my line of sight until she entered the Burger King. Kylie was just fine.

"You're all set." Carlisle handed me the key card. "Two double beds…nothing special. I didn't think…I know there are fancier hotels—"

"This is perfect," I said.

"Where's Ky?" He looked around.

I jerked my head across the street. "Getting breakfast. She's bringing you back a coffee."

His eyes widened. "You—"

"She's fine," I giggled. "Geez."

He put his hands up. "She's your kid. You know better."

"She's not a kid," I disagreed, putting the cig out with my sneaker. "When I was her age, I had an apartment, a life…sort of."

"Struggling? Was that really a life?" he asked.

"I have no idea." I was honest. "I just—sometimes I wish she was more like me, more independent. When I married Edward, I started to rely too heavily on him for everything. I don't want that for Kylie. She needs to know that she can stand on her own if she has to."

"All right." His head bobbed. "I can agree to that, but Bella . . . Kylie's a mini B. She's just like you." He smiled. "She's tough, too, when it's necessary. I know you guys worry, but she's different when you two aren't around. She's cool."

"How is she when she's with you?" I asked.

He grinned, shaking his head and lighting his own cigarette. "Hilarious, genuine, always honest…but just too damn funny."

I laughed. "She is…a little wise-ass."

"That, she gets from Edward."

"No doubt." I snorted, watching Kylie come toward us with a drink tray.

That small feat is usually something a mom celebrates when their child is eight or maybe even younger—successfully crossing the street. But this was more than that. Even if we were paces away, ready at any moment if something happened, Kylie went into Burger King without an escort, without anybody right next to her.

It was something.

"How'd it go?" I asked.

Kylie was biting her lips together, trying not to smile. "No big deal." She scoffed, but we both knew how huge it was.

I squeezed her bicep to celebrate her victory, yet no one made it a production.

"I'll head back . . . See you guys soon." Carlisle kissed my forehead, and then landed on smooch in Kylie's hair before he entered his vehicle. "Thanks." He took his coffee from Kylie and then closed the door.

We watched as he drove away.

"What do we do now?"

I turned and started to unload our bags. "We relax. Take your own . . . I'll take mine."

Kylie juggled the crap in her hands and her duffle, but we made it to the hotel's entrance.

The room was on the small side—one chest of drawers with a TV on top and two queen-sized beds filled the space.

And I no longer cared about my coffee.

While Kylie got herself situated and turned on the television, I threw all my shit into the closet before I did a nose-dive for a bed. They looked crazy comfortable, made to perfection, although the mattress wasn't as comfortable as ours at home.

"What are we gonna do today?" Kylie asked.

I sighed, pulling the blanket around myself. "I dunno . . . We'll see. I just need a nap." After setting the prepaid cell on the nightstand, I closed my eyes.

**/=/=/=/**

I'd managed to fall asleep.

Not sure if it was hours or minutes later, my eyes widened as I stared into Kylie's. The girl was in my face, likely willing me to wake up.

"Good. You're up now." She backed off.

"What—" I cleared my throat, looking at the time on the alarm clock. It was ten to four in the afternoon, and I'd gotten some good sleep. "Shit…thanks for letting me sleep."

Kylie nodded. "I'm so thirsty . . . I've been drinking water from the faucet." She pointed.

"Nothing wrong with that." I scooted off the bed, grabbing for the cell to see that Edward hadn't called. "Why didn't you go to the vending machine down the hall?"

She looked down to the floor. "I wasn't sure . . . Like if I should have left or not. It's weird." Kylie plopped herself on my bed. "It's like…I know Daddy or anyone isn't here, but it's still weird," she laughed. "I can't explain it."

I pushed her messy hair back. "You need a haircut."

"I told you . . . I'm letting it grow."

"I know," I said. "Do you not feel safe? Why's it weird?" My hand tried to catch my yawn.

"No, I feel safe. I'm with you . . . but no one's watching for you either." She furrowed her brow. "We have to watch each other."

"Exactly." I nodded. "We'll be fine. I told you—"

"Dad says he has enemies he can see…and enemies he can't."

"Be that as it may . . ." I wasn't going to get into it, that I'd shield her with my own life if need be, or that I had a quiet nine for whoever tried to do us harm. "We're fine. If you're that worried, Cousin Jasper doesn't live that far from here. Uncle Emmett is twenty minutes away. I was going to suggest, after we spend some time together, we go visit them."

"We can do whatever you want." She shrugged, leaving the bed. "It was supposed to be _your_ vacation . . ." She stepped into her sneakers. "But can we get food…like now? I'm thirsty and starving, but I don't want Burger King again."

I smiled, pulling my hair up into a ponytail. "I saw a sign for restaurants when we left the highway. We'll find something."

After cleaning up a bit, we left the room for the car, and we quickly pulled away. I knew the direct route to T.G.I. Friday's, but I went the long way to make sure we weren't being followed—by anyone.

I would not put it past my husband to still have someone tail us. It's not that I would have minded, I just needed to know—_who or if_ someone was following.

We were cool, though. There was no suspicious activity.

Kylie got shrimp and steak, and I had grilled chicken. We didn't talk about much, and the quiet was welcomed. I dug it, just having a nice dinner with my daughter.

"I wonder how much they make…" She tapped her chin, staring at a server. "What compels someone to want to wait on tables?"

"I used to . . . I waitressed when I was in college. It's a cool gig. The cash is always awesome. The free food is a great bonus, and you meet a lot of people." I nodded. "It's not bad, but working in customer service . . . Well, you see some clients that come into the tanning salon. It's not easy trying to cater to people." I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my Diet Coke.

"That's really cool—that you did that." She smiled.

"It's not like I had a choice. It was fast food or waiting tables . . . Trust me; waiting tables is better."

"I believe you," she giggled only to frown. "I haven't spoken to Gio or Maggie. I bet Gio's worried. I—"

"You can use the phone I have to call him. But you have to keep it short. Just tell him you're with your mom, and you'll call him when you get home."

"Sounds so infantile. I mean, I'm nineteen." She snorted.

"But he's your boyfriend and you know he's gonna give you shit 'cause you can't tell him where you are." I twirled my straw around my ice.

"True." She acquiesced.

After we paid the bill, Kylie was fast to call Gio as we made our way out to the truck. Knowing there was an outlet mall close, I started toward there.

"Say goodbye." She'd been on the phone for close to five minutes already. "Gio, she's with her momma!"

"Shhh," Kylie laughed. "No, not you." She spoke to Gio. "I love you, too. I'll try to call you tomorrow." She ended the call, and I felt her eyes on me as I pulled into the parking lot. "He doesn't understand why I can't tell him where we are. I don't fully understand it either . . . I might add."

"Oh, Kylie." I reached over to grab her jaw. "There's things in life we'll just never understand. You go with it—go with the flow." I smiled, parking close to the drugstore entrance. "We need disguises . . . We're not shopping. Just something to make us look different."

She gasped. "Can I dye my hair?"

I shook my head. "There are quite a few shops along here . . . We can find you a wig."

"That's even better! I want a bad one, so people know it's a wig," she laughed her ass off.

I glanced at my roots in the visor mirror. They were holding up pretty well, and Janine was going to be pissed . . . "What do you think about me dyeing my hair black?"

"It'd make you look goth."

"I'm serious," I said.

"So am I." She left the cab. "You're too pale for black . . . Maybe a really dark, dark brown, but not all the way black." She droned as she walked over to my side of the car.

"We'll figure something out."

From there, we went on our little shopping excursion.

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

_**EDWARD**_

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

_**A**_lthough I didn't get any sleep at home next to Bella, I slept plenty while Aro drove us out of New York. In fact, I woke up when we were driving out of West Virginia without a clue as to where we were. It was cool, though.

Aro was getting tired, so we stopped at a diner to get cleaned up.

I needed to call Bella anyway . . .

After speaking to Carlisle and learning where they were, I dialed Bella's new phone. She picked up right away.

_"Baby…?"_

"We're fine." I smiled, happy to hear her voice. The way shit was last night, I wasn't wary speaking to her. We'd managed to put our differences aside regarding Sonny and just spend some time together.

_"Good."_ She sounded breathy. _"C called you?"_

"He did . . ." I hoped she'd go stay with Alice and Jasper or head to Emmett's; they were in the area. "I love you." She knows we can't say much on these calls. Even if the phones are untraceable, I still like to make sure we don't give anything away.

_"I love you, too."_ Her voice was filled with emotion.

"Bella," I sighed. "You were fine before I called, weren't you?" I'm what's getting her upset, but it's all . . . out of sight, out of mind. We gotta watch our asses, but I know the both of us are concerned for the other. It's the way shit is, and now she's getting emotional hearing my voice.

_"I'm changing my hair."_ She was trying to sound better, the vigor in her voice stronger and louder.

"Don't cut it!" My eyes landed on the electrical razor in Aro's hand. He had that shit in his duffle, wanted to shave his head wherever we stopped. I can't imagine why. It's cold. My hair is concealed with a skully.

_"No, just the color."_

"Oh…" I tore off my hat, ran my fingers through my hair. "I love you . . . I gotta drive now, so I'll call you when we stop."

_"Okay. Love you. Love you. Baby girl says she loves you, too."_

I smiled. "Give her a big smooch for me."

_"I will,"_ Bella giggled, ending the call.

I hummed, stuffing the cell into my pocket. "You're serious right now?" I gestured to my friend. "We're not that young any more. You shave it, it might not grow back." My hand reached to coif his do.

He pulled away. "It'll grow back. My forehead's bigger, but fuck you. So is yours."

I cackled. "It's called a receding hairline. You see my pop's. It'll turn white and gray before it gets thin and falls out."

"My father went bald in his late forties, fifties . . . It's gonna go, but if it's gotta go—" he looked to me "—I'd rather be the one to shave the shit off."

"Die on your feet instead of your knees." I nodded. "Take care of it yourself . . . It'll suit you, I think."

"I think so, too." He stared into the mirror.

There was a knock at the door.

"It's occupied!" Aro shouted, hitting the switch and making the razor come to life.

I chuckled. "Probably thinks you're fucking around in here with a vibrating dildo or some shit."

"What?" he asked, hadn't heard me.

"Nothing." I put my hands up, going over to the urinal to take a piss.

Everything was working out well. Bella and Kylie were out of sight. I had confirmation that Sonny and Maggie—or should I say Edward and Isabella Cullen—had made it to Bermuda like two hours ago. All that was left to handle was getting Aro and myself to Vegas within a timely manner. It all rested on us now.

While Aro got busy, going to town and chopping his hair off, I was about to use my cell to call Damion—just to check in on him. He had no idea what was going on. Sonny had told Carlisle that—that he didn't allude or tell Damion a thing, just that he and Maggie would be ghost for a few days.

Dame still thinks Bella and I were heading to Bermuda . . .

Kylie's supposedly at Carlisle's . . .

Before I hit send, I decided not to call him. If I did, it'd just needlessly worry him since I wouldn't be able to answer any of his questions.

And it's not like I'd call him as soon as I arrived at our resort. Calling him would be out of character for me, so I didn't.

"How long you gonna be?"

He massaged his head with his hand. "Shit's even?"

"Good enough."

"You didn't even look!" he hollered.

"It's good—what?" I showed him my palms. "Don't get cunty."

He smirked. "I look younger."

"You do," I agreed, because he did. He no longer had any salt in his pepper . . . he no longer had any hair at all. It looked like a buzz-cut, nice and even. "Fuck it. Do my shit, too." I shrugged.

"For real? 'Cause you can't take it back. I cut your shit and you don't like it, you'll try and fight me. We don't got time for that." He rushed out.

I took my hoodie off. "Just do it." My hair grows like weeds. Maybe the color has changed, but the prior fact remained true. I was one of the lucky ones. Even if he went down to the skin, I'd have hair to show Bella once I got back to New York.

I winced, thinking about my wife and what she might do . . .

"Don't move."

I opened my eyes to see only half my head was shaved.

"We should leave it like this . . . Skip going retro and shit." He chuckled.

"Shut up—get busy."

He rolled his eyes, getting the other side.

Truth be told, without hair, I looked about ten years younger, too. Combined with our casual outfits, we looked like two homeboys just riding . . . Two white boys with no hair driving below the Mason-Dixon Line . . .

I doubt anyone would think anything of it.

Nevertheless, it was still brick—cold as fuck—even if we were South, and I donned my hat anyway. I drove us to a steak house while Aro fought to stay awake now.

"Let's eat, and then I'll drive 'til I get tired—you sleep," I said.

Aro yawned. "Sounds good . . . Fuck. Remember when we could do this shit . . . not think nothing of it." He popped a pill into his mouth. "We were coked up, though." He pursed his lips. "Wanna be perked up?"

I smirked, staring at his palm where a pill sat. "Oxy?"

He shrugged. "They're from a legit doc. My knee's actin' up. I might need to have it replaced."

"No shit." I swallowed the medicine down without water. "Wow."

"Used to shoot kneecaps off, and now I need a new one . . . that's karma."

"That's—that's 'cause you injured it back in the day, because your old ass is a grandpa," I laughed, pulling into a parking spot.

"You're old, too."

"Never said I wasn't," I sighed. "I'm just sayin' . . . it's not karma."

"I think it is." He wouldn't let it go. "In roundabout ways, we get punished for the things we do. Maybe it's not karma. Maybe it's God?"

"Fuck that." I shut the engine and left the car.

He followed after me. "Think about it. When has shit _ever_ been easy? We do one thing, we gotta do ten others to make sure that _one_ thing—" he held up a finger "—doesn't come back to haunt you in the end. It's a never-ending cycle."

I stopped walking to look at him. "You tryin'a say you wanna retire. What?"

"Fuck, no." He grabbed the door, keeping it open for me. "Are you kidding? Going on a run like this…Keeps me young."

"Yeah, sure." I rubbed my hands together, happy for the warm air that hit me. "Two, please," I told the hostess.

"Right this way, sir." She gestured to her right.

Aro hit my back. "Remember before we got married? The broads on the road? The waitresses, the hostesses—_madonn'_." He bit his knuckle, getting real close to my face.

I laughed, pushing him away from me. "Shut up."

"Excuse me, doll?" the hostess asked.

"Not you, hon . . . He was rude to me, not you." Aro winked.

"Okay." She pulled a chair out for him. "The specials are on the board, and y'all have a nice night."

My buddy watched as she walked away.

I hit his arm. "Now, _she_ could be your grandchild."

"Fuck that. My daughter, maybe. Stop exaggerating. Are we going to have any fun?"

I picked up my menu. "Wait 'til the meds perk me up." I was sarcastic, but I hoped it'd help me with the knot that had formed in my back. I'd never admit to it, nor would I ask my friend to put Ben Gay on me. Fuck that. Bella will rub the kink out when we get home.

"You've turned into a . . ."

"A, what?" I asked. "I'm no fun? Old? What?"

He nodded, hitting his nose. "Exactly that."

"We grow up . . ." I read along the menu, thinking I could go for a nice T-Bone. "Our priorities change. But _we_ never change. The root of who we are . . . We're still around, our old selves. I dunno. Things change."

"Fuck. I know . . . Remember that ride-along you did with me? I was coming up . . . No, my first ride along was when we drove down to Miami with Lexi. But I mean when we went to Iowa?" He nodded. "Misone sent us out to Iowa to pull a job. We drove through mad fucking snow, dead of winter like now; meanwhile, we stopped how many times?" he laughed. "It took us a week, but Misone didn't give a fuck."

I shook my head. "He knew shit was cool, I guess."

"Nah, he trusted you back then . . . Fuck. How old were we?"

I tried to think back. "I was twenty-five. It was before we went down to South Carolina . . . When I hooked up with—" I stopped talking because Aro knew what I was about to say. We went out to Iowa right before I met Bella, before I hooked up with the Russians.

All of which started a domino effect . . .

"We came out on top, though. We're _still_ on top." Aro smiled, looking up to the waitress. She wasn't truly anything to look at, so he just ordered his meal, and I was spared any bullshit comments that would follow. "Uh, a Heineken, too."

I nodded. "I'll have the same thing, actually . . . but make my steak medium."

She smiled, taking our menus and walking off.

"I'd still hit it . . . if I was single."

I laughed, because it seemed he couldn't help himself. Or maybe he couldn't let go of the past, wanted to relive our glory days.

"It's just an observation. And you would, too . . ."

"OK," I agreed, still chuckling. "Nah, you're right, though. We judge our kids, but . . . I mean, we used to judge Carlisle, too. But we were just as bad."

The server was back with our beers already.

"Thank you," Aro said.

"You're welcome." She left again.

My friend leaned toward me. "Yeah, but . . . Nah, no one was as much of a cooz-hound as C . . . No one. Your brother would fuck anything. We had standards."

"Did we?" I asked, because I honestly didn't remember us having any . . . or many.

"Look, I gotta tell you something. Remember the time we'd gone down to Miami with Lexi?"

I nodded, and I already knew what he was going to confess to.

"Youse were fucking, but she wasn't really your girl . . . She gave me road head on the way back."

"I know," I said, but he'd never know that was one of the main catalysts behind why I stopped fucking her. We had no relationship to speak of, yet I bought her new tits, gave her a job, a car, and she'd get anything she wanted outta me . . . I just liked the way she was back then . . . when she was mine. Lexi did that shit to fuck with my head, make me jealous. From that point on, I treated her like the ho she acted as.

Fuck if I know. My head was a jumbled mess back then.

However, once I cut ties with someone, that's it.

That's never changed.

When Dad married her, I honestly wished them the best. I never loved her. I never treated her with half the respect I gave Bella . . .

Lexi meant nothing, but I wouldn't touch her after I found out about her sucking Aro off.

All of which caused a domino effect as well . . .

Things changed after that Miami trip.

For _me_, they were _all_ for the better; I can't say the same for Lexi.

"How do you know?" He spoke with his hands. "I never told you."

"First, I was in the car."

"You were snoring like a fucking hog. Don't go there." He chuckled. "She told you? Fucking _sporca puttana_—" he spat, quick to do the Sign of the Cross "—forgive me. God rest her soul."

I laughed. "She _was_ a whore."

He shrugged. "Yeah…she gave good head, though."

I nodded, tapping my longneck to his. "Very true."

The both of us got quiet while the waitress dropped our food off. We were fast to dig in, fucking starving. That pill made me smiley, so I knew my stomach had been empty. It could have been the beer that went to my head. But I knew it wasn't that, maybe the combo . . .

It also made me feel like I should get a few things off my chest.

"Being on the road . . . even though it's boring now, I needed this, just a breather. You know? I'd hoped to be in Bermuda, but..." It'd only been hours, but I missed Bella already. There's miles between us, yet she was a whole world away.

"C told me about Sonny." He chewed, nodding.

I scoffed. "Youse are like two little girls. Youse fight over mad bullshit, but then you're gossiping on the phone. You tell each other everything."

"We've always been like that." He showed the waitress his empty bottle.

I pointed to mine as well. "I just never imagined Sonny having a problem like that. He's so fucking smart." I tapped my temple. "And it's my fault—"

"Don't go there." He waved his steak knife.

"Nah, for real . . ." Silence fell upon the table. "We're not old-old, but we're not young anymore either. You ever feel like you lived like…four lifetimes in one?"

Aro nodded, still stuffing his face. "I do."

I laughed. "Being a kid was…it was what it was, but then getting into this . . ." I widened my arms. "We were always on the move. From the time I was seventeen up until I got married, I never, never ever stopped. How much living did we pack into eight years?"

"A lot. We were always hustling, always doing whatever, always with the different women . . . but then you settle down. We _all_ settled down." He shrugged. "It happens."

"It felt like everything stopped . . . only nothing stopped. Roles changed, shit got reversed, and here I was . . . a kid in charge of everything. You know how overwhelming it was? How…No matter how much 'living' I'd done before that, nothing prepared me for taking the reins."

Aro nodded along. "I was there for the ride. You did a bang-up job. Best Skip there ever was." He toasted to me with his new beer.

I smiled, picking up mine as well. "Thanks for that . . . Then, sometimes, it feels like it all flashed within a blink of an eye. Bella married me . . . Next thing I know we're having kids, yet I was still going . . . Maybe I wasn't there as much as I should have been. I'm there for my kids now. I'm the person Dame and Sonny come to when they need help . . . At least, I used to be." I furrowed my brow.

"Skip...Sonny did go to you."

"I know." I cringed where I sat.

"Don't beat yourself up over it. You were trying to teach him a tough lesson...It's sink or swim."

I knew that deep down also. "Maybe I was never a daddy to them? Maybe that's where I fucked up?"

"Are you kidding? You were a good dad. We all do what we can . . . We love our kids . . . Hey, I remember you clearing snot, dirty diapers . . . No matter how fucked Dame's pictures were, your face would light up like he'd just painted the Mona Lisa." He wiped his hands clean, which made me laugh. "You went to school plays—shit at school when you could. I know Bella picked up the slack. She was like Super Mom and shit, always there. But you were a good dad, and you're an even better father now."

"Thank you for saying that." It still didn't help me swallow the knot in my throat—the shit with Sonny yesterday still weighing on my mind.

"Truth of the matter is our kids are adults now. And they're going to make their own decisions whether we agree with them or not. We can't blame ourselves. They have free will and all that."

"But…" Thinking back, I could say this honestly. "Maybe I helped push Sonny into the business? Maybe if I hadn't—"

"I don't think so," he said.

"I regret it now . . . now that it's too late, I regret it, which was why I was so against Dame doing a thing. I used to sell it to Bella—that I didn't want _my_ life for Sonny, Dame, or_ hers_ for Kylie. But the truth? Back when Sonny turned eighteen, I had it in my head that I wasn't getting any younger, and I wanted Sonny to carry it on." I shrugged. "That was like…my mid-life crisis mistake, I'd say."

"Well put." He pursed his lips. "We have our moments when we panic. We all do. I have thoughts like that all the time. I used to be what I used to be—a ladies' man."

"You were never a ladies' man," I laughed. "You used to literally get lucky. You were with me; you reaped the benefits." I started eating again.

"I don't think so. I had game, but . . . I'm not turning heads like I used to. It's not about the actual fucking. It's about…having game."

"Right." I could see his point. "I still got it."

"Without your title, would you?"

I hummed. "I don't know."

"You lucked out, though . . . taking that ride with C." His brow rose. "Ever wonder if—"

"Bella would've never fucked Carlisle. Don't even say that shit. She knew he was nasty from jump. My wife's got it like that—almost psychic and shit with her intuition—"

"Take it easy!" he laughed.

"Nah…you sittin' there saying Bella—"

"It was…It was…just relax. Okay?" He put his palms up. "You almost ready to go?"

Silently, I stared at him while I caught my breath. Fuck. He got me so heated so quick.

"Skip…"

"I'm good. No worries." I sipped my beer and then wiped my mouth. "I'm not stopping, so piss—shit now."

"Bet." He gave me a fist pound before throwing some money onto the table.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	41. Lost Time

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**Sorry for the delay. But I gotta long one for you!**

**Those of you who were reading Tribute...FFn pulled it, so now it's being posted on TWCS and my blog: ****www dot TributeSLC dot wordpress dot com (mind the "dot"s)**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Forty-One: Lost Time**

**SONNY POV**

**M**y tongue was numb and my teeth were getting there. Nevertheless, I kept it moving—going from munching on to licking Maggie's clit, my finger twirling inside of her.

I've lost count as to how many times I've…serviced my wife orally since we arrived.

Although Maggie enjoys it all the same every time.

She can't get enough.

It's like . . .

Well, I _am _making up for lost time.

I'm making up for the past…two months, and this was just the beginning. There was no limit to what I would do to make it right. Meanwhile, I don't think anything will. I've just been thanking God that my wife is the most understanding human being—woman—on this planet. My love for her knows no bounds, and I was incredibly reproachful.

_A sorry sack of shit is more like it._

I don't deserve her forgiveness.

Apologizing has lost its meaning as well, but nothing will stop me from saying it—from eating her pussy, from spending every cent I had, from doting, loving, and caring…

My wife hates that I'm beating myself up . . .

She wants me to stop, for us to go back to normal, but . . .

She's forgiven me, yet I can't forgive myself.

Every time I think back…my mind goes away from me, I cringe and want to punch myself in the face. It's a horrible feeling. I've never been sorrier in my life. I've never harbored this much regret and guilt.

_Never in my life . . ._

"Fuck!" Maggie fisted my hair, and I winced, albeit slightly. My hair—my head, from her pulling my fucking hair—it was sore, too. But that means she's about to come. "Oh my God!"

_And there it was…_

I smiled against her as she squeezed my finger, her body quaking and soft moans falling from her mouth . . .

That, her orgasm filled me with glee.

"Oh…" She went limp, blowing out breath after breath.

Spent as well, I lay next to Maggie, gathering her into my arms. "Tonight . . . maybe we can have a picnic on the beach? I'll call room service . . . We'll actually leave the room." While I was content to stay on the low, I wasn't sure if Maggie wanted more—to sightsee, or go to the beach. I've asked and she's said no, but she could be downplaying any wants or needs she has.

She moaned, turning over to face me, tangle our legs. "That sounds amazing, but . . . we're not supposed to leave the room."

"True—" I raised a brow "—but if we do it late enough…a midnight stroll?" I kissed her collarbone, wanting to bite it.

Maggie palmed my cheeks. "Santino…" She searched my eyes, swallowing loudly. "I'm, um, I'm not made of glass . . . and I really want you to—I want _you _back, how you were." Her brow furrowed. "I don't know if I'm saying this right. I know you're sorry. I believe you. And I'm sorry too." Maggie nipped my lips and straddled my waist.

I rolled over to gently run my hands up her torso, palm her tits. "You're gorgeous."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Every word," I promised. "I just . . . We've ignored the elephant in the room long enough . . . I don't know. I fucked up, and—"

"Your mouth…" She ran her thumb across my lower lip. "It's wonderful," she whispered. "But I want you to make love to me, like you used to. I know you had trouble when you were using . . ." She looked away.

"I'm fine…down there." Fuck. My cock was hard now. "You can't feel it?" I laughed, lifting my hips.

She giggled, squirming on top of me. "Why haven't we—I mean, we've been here for two days."

I hummed, sitting up to hold her close. "I know you like it when I go down on you—"

"But that's not _all_ I like." Her hands trailed down my back. "I want to feel you—be connected. I need you, Santino." She placed kisses along my neck—those crazy kisses that drive me wild, the ones only Maggie can give me. "That's the way we feel close." She bit my earlobe, making my eyes roll back. "Right?"

I hugged her tight, a little too tightly, but I thought it'd be cool. "You're my best friend."

She was smiling. "Really?"

I nodded, nuzzling my nose to hers. "Yeah…but I don't know why—"

"Sometimes we hurt the ones we love the most . . . I heard you say that." She gave me a soft little peck on my forehead. "And we don't know why. But I've forgiven you. I love you and I need us to move forward."

"But us fucking like bunnies again won't fix what's wrong. Do you understand?" At the end of the day, I need to remind myself of my wife's age; meanwhile, I think she's more mature than I am. Fuck if I know. "It'll only mask our problems with this…false happiness?"

She scooted away from me. "So…let's talk. When we get back, you'll have like a week to study for the bar. I stare at that circled day on the calendar a lot." Her eyes widened. "February 26th . . . I worry that your recent problems have taken you away from that goal."

"Well . . ." Thoroughly impressed and dumbfounded by how grown she sounded, I sat up to face her, wearing a smirk. "I—I'll be honest and say I haven't given it much thought. I was originally doing it for—" I didn't wanna say her name "—Katie, but…" I trailed off, at a total fucking loss. "Do you want me to take the test?"

Maggie grinned, poking my stomach. "It's so freaking solid. Your abs," she sighed, her eyes meeting mine, and I thought I lost her. But then . . . "The question is, do YOU want to take the test?"

"Check you out." I don't know why I didn't give her more credit. "I'm not sure, not anymore. I don't see a point. I'm successful. I don't have to work another day, and we'd be set for life . . . with what we have in the bank. Not many can say that at twenty-eight. Being an attorney never truly interested me?" I scrunched my nose. "I was only doing it, so…I have no idea." I originally studied law to learn how to get around it, cover my ass. A few courses on Forensics didn't hurt either.

"What did you want to do? What did you want to be when you grew up?" she asked.

"I am a grown-up," I laughed.

"When you were little." She nudged my leg with her own. "I know there are responsibilities you still have…will have for the long-run, but…maybe you could get into something that makes you happy? Besides me…'cause I know being inside me makes you happy." She snorted.

"It does." I nodded, smiling widely. "Are you going to keep up with the innuendoes until we fuck?"

"Yeah, pretty much." She nestled into my side. "I just wanted to make sure it still was."

"I wish you knew what being inside you feels like," I whispered. "It's the best."

"What'd you wanna be?" She raised a brow, getting us back on track.

I laughed at myself. "I wanted to be just like my father. I wanted to do…basically what I'm doing now. Sometimes, when we get what we want? We take that for granted." I lifted her hand to kiss her rings—the symbols of our bond.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive your dad." She looked angry now. "When I saw . . . I just, I didn't care what you had done, but I got so mad." She gritted her teeth, tears filling her eyes.

"Hey." I palmed her cheek. "Don't."

"I know he helped you," she cried. "But he hurt you, too. And I love you so much." She threw herself into my arms.

"Shhh." I rubbed her back. "He did help me…more than I can explain. I needed a wake-up call, baby." I kissed her hair. "I was so wrong, and if you'll let me…I'll devote the rest of my life making that up to you."

I felt her shake her head. "It's done." She leaned away, wiping her eyes. "We can't take back the past. We have to move forward, have fun, laugh, and smile…Your mom said that, but I agree. The best times and the worst of times—in my life to date—they've all been with you. And I want more good times."

"I'm sure—can guaran-fucking-tee that we'll have more bad times, too."

"I know…We're married…"

Silence fell upon us, yet we were content to stay in the embrace.

"Have you wanted to use since we've been here?"

I nodded my head yes, in all honesty. "I'd feel right…I think maybe I won't be so unsure. But I know…I know using again is not an option. Not if I want my life to stay the way it is, with you in it . . . I'm doing all right, though."

It's true; when I get upset or think back to three days ago, I yearn for some yak. My body is telling me I need it. My fucking brain keeps messing with me, too. However, I haven't had a mood swing—except mild depression—since we've been here. And I know that once we get back to New York, that desire will be all the more stronger, amplified by a thousand.

I was going to beat this.

I was going to come up swinging like I did the other day.

"Thank you for being honest."

"Don't thank me for that." My eyes snapped to hers. "I want us to be more truthful. I want to share things with you. Even though, I know some things—I don't know if you'd be able to handle them, my demons." Swallowing was hard; I felt like I had a lump in my throat. "I know I took you for granted—"

"It's okay." She placed her lips to mine. "Tell me…anything and everything. I don't keep things from you . . . Well, except for some of the silly things your sister gets me into."

"I wanna know." I laughed through my tears. "I want to know everything, even if you think it's stupid and immature. Don't be embarrassed."

"Okay," she sighed, resting her forehead to mine. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I hugged her tightly again. "You want us to get back to normal, and I want us to be better—better than before. I'm going to make sure I'm home more often."

"I think I'll do night courses," she said.

"What?"

"When I start at NYU? I'll do night courses, so our schedules will sync. You know? I know it's nighttime, and you'll worry—"

"We'll make it work." I squeezed her. "Okay? We'll play it by ear. I don't want you to change anything—"

"But it's okay if you do?" Her face fell and the tears were back. "I'm missing more school being here. I'm afraid—afraid I won't graduate on time." She started to sob.

"What…?" I held her cheeks, making her look at me. "You're having trouble?"

"I flunked all my mid-terms." She sniffled. "I haven't been sleeping. When—when being there gets boring, I call for our car, and they take me home. By that time, you're gone. And I've made sure to call either Gino or Tommy . . ." She shrugged. "It was just so hard, being there when-when—"

"Listen to me—" I wiped under her nose "—we'll figure it out. I'm sorry. I'll help you study, but why haven't you been sleeping?"

"I just can't. I worry about you," she hiccupped. "I'd lie in bed half-asleep, and I'd only fall asleep when you'd get home. It was like…my body knew when you'd walk in. I'd be half asleep, and then I'd nod out. Only, then I'd wake up two hours later . . . You'd be passed out—"

"Okay." I nodded. "What are your options? Summer school…? It's been a while since I was in high school. And you _need_ high school. It's not the same as me with the bar exam."

"I know," she whispered. "They called my dad. He said he was going to call you, but I begged him not to. He made me promise I'd tell you. But in comparison, it didn't seem important."

"Are you kidding…?" I was taken aback. "Maggie…"

"I'm sorry."

"Look at me—" I dipped my head to meet her gaze "—don't apologize. We'll figure it out. All right? I'll—we can meet with your teachers…?" I wasn't even sure. All I knew was that when I was in school, teachers wanted to meet with parents and/or legal guardians. While Maggie is eighteen, the same rules still apply.

"I don't want you buying my diploma."

I smirked because my wife was getting to know me too well. "It'd be really simple. It's a Catholic school."

"My courses are a lot to keep up with. I'm in advanced classes. You know that…" She rolled her eyes. "There needs to be a meeting, but it is a private school, like you said. They bend a lot of rules, and if my absences are explained—"

"I can get you a doctor's note." I nodded, pursing my lips.

"I know you can." She grinned. "But what I'm trying to say is…if I ace everything this last semester, I'll be able to graduate on time. I know so."

"Good. We'll study together. We'll try to get some kind of balance, so that we're both getting the rest we need. We're able to spend actual time together, and we'll do the things we gotta do. Deal?" I put my hand out.

We shook on it, and then she pulled me closer to her. "Can we…go to the prom, too?"

When I leaned back to look at her, she wore a big toothy grin.

"I heard you tell your brother . . . When he mentioned it, you said you were dreading the spring because of it." She rushed out.

I winced. "I did say that . . . and I meant it. Do you know how old I'm gonna look in comparison—"

"So, what? Do you have any idea how much every girl is going to hate me?" she giggled. "Because of how hot you are, although a bit older."

I sighed, thinking that could be my penance—no matter how much it truly didn't compare. "I'd love to be your date."

She squealed. "It's gonna be awesome!" She fist pumped the air. "You'll take me back to the Waldorf and try to get under my dress, too, I hope?"

I bit my lip and grabbed her ass. "You can count on it."

"A limo?"

"Whichever one you want." I nodded. "But no one else rides with us. I'm going with you, and I don't plan on socializing."

"Pictures?" she asked.

"As many as you want. I'm sure Mom and Ky will have a field day, and I'll never live it down," I guffawed.

"Hey…it won't be that bad."

"I know." I lifted her, bringing her over to my side. "We'll have champagne and a fancy dinner beforehand." I stared into her eyes, hovering over my beauty.

Maggie rubbed up my chest, wearing a smile.

"We'll make sure to get you the most expensive, fanciest gown . . ." I eased between her legs. "Sound cool?"

"Very!" She wrapped her arms around my neck, a giddy mess.

"Doesn't take much to make you happy, huh?" I gave her an Eskimo kiss, my hand sliding down her side to grasp her hip.

"As long as I have you, I don't need much else."

"Ditto," I said, meaning that with my whole heart. "I was a fool . . . and I hope you've truly forgiven me." My tears were back, and I couldn't hide them. "I can't be me without you. I also told Dame . . . you're the best thing to ever happen to me. And I mean that, too." I sniffed, wiping my nose with back of my hand.

Maggie brushed the tears away from my cheeks. "Don't cry." Her lip quivered.

I smiled, chuckling. "I know…it gets you started."

_We were quite the pair_, I thought.

"It does." Her face crumbled.

"Christ." I snuck my arm under her, hugging her body close while trying to keep my weight off of her.

Maggie sighed, composing herself, her head slowly turning to mine. "Santino…" The look in her watery eyes hypnotized me—the love and desire I saw made my heart suddenly pound fast and loud in my chest.

I crashed my mouth to hers, my tongue invading, probing, and tasting—a grunt falling from my lips. My body pinned her to the bed; I no longer cared about my weight, weaving my hands into her hair.

Maggie moaned, her body rocking against mine, kissing me just as passionately and deeply. Her nails clawed at my back while I felt her feet push my boxers down.

Quickly, I leaned away to grab my dick, staring into those eyes—my eyes—before I fell forward. I held my breath until she sheathed me, letting it out only to finally feel at ease . . .

My wife gasped, and her eyes widened, her hands gripping my shoulders . . .

I leaned back down to kiss her, wanting to go slow, but that wasn't happening. My hands pulled her waist closer as I dug into her deeper, coming all the way out just to push back in with force.

"I fucking missed you." It was the only thing left to say, because I missed her like fucking crazy. I wasn't me for so fucking long. And now that I was back . . . I was making up for lost time.

The coke was like a cage—it was like being in the can, it held me back.

It helped me to excel in other roles but not the most important one.

To my surprise—Maggie, in her own lust-filled haze—wore a smile. "Shut up and fuck your wife."

I shot her a lopsided grin, wrapping her legs around my waist, my elbows coming to rest on either side of her head. "You can't let me be romantic—have my own moment. I had an epiphany and shit—" I tapped my temple "—up here."

"God…" She groaned, thrusting up to me. "I need it."

"I know what you need," I sang.

She slapped her hands against my chest. "Roll over."

"I'll—relax. Okay?" This wasn't romantic at all now. She'd ruined it, but being inside her was as euphoric as it's always been.

"Roll. Over." She more like demanded, pushing me with all her might.

I refused to move, firmly intending on _fucking_ my wife. "Shut up." I pulled her hair to make her back hit the mattress as I picked up the pace with my hips.

"Yes! Fuck me!"

"Listen to you…" I chuckled, but I didn't mean to. She honestly felt like…the best thing ever. Not only did I miss her, but my cock did, too. Thinking back, I couldn't remember the last time we'd actually made love.

That wasn't important . . . not when I was in that fucking vise.

Now . . . Hell, I had to concentrate or else I'd come.

And the way Maggie was going insane, that wasn't an option.

"Come." I sucked her lip into my mouth, my hand snaking down to toy with her clit.

"Harder."

My eyes widened. I gritted my teeth, trying my hardest . . . going faster.

"Santino." She slapped my chest again, whining. "You come—for me? Come inside me—"

"Fuck!" I was already there, going the deepest I could to spill, holding her tightly. I swore I saw fucking stars. My ears were fucking ringing, too. "Shit." I panted. "I'm sorry."

She was beaming. "Don't be." Her arms wrapped around me again. "Just lay with me…like this. I just…You know I missed you, too—everything about you. We can do that again, and again—order room service, and go again." She nodded.

I blew out a breath, agreeing. "As many times . . ." I honestly felt better, my head a little clearer, after our talk and coming. "Fuck," I laughed, roaming my hands down her sides again.

She yelped when I squeezed.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I missed your hands, too. My bull . . ." She rubbed the side of my face. "I'm not a china shop."

"I remember telling you that." I chuckled, pushing her messy hair away from her face. "I love this face."

She giggled. "I love you…"

"I know." I nodded, the weight of that sentiment hitting me like a brick suddenly. "I know." My words were a whisper as I kissed her deeply once more.

Maybe we'd never see more than the airport here in Bermuda.

But I saw more of my wife . . .

We connected in ways . . . I could hardly describe it, but I knew we were solid.

We'd get back to New York, and to being Sonny and Maggie . . .

Faults included.

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

_**KYLIE**_

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

_**I**_ stared at my mother, wondering if she was going to sleep our whole vacation away. I mean, I know she's been depressed or whatever, being away from Dad. And I could relate . . . although what she and my dad have doesn't truly compare to Gio and me. They're, like, really-really-really in love, have almost morphed into one person, one soul or something.

She says that sometimes her chest aches—with anxiety and sadness, because she misses him.

And that was so deep.

I wondered if Dad was having the same problem, if he missed her as much.

Nevertheless, we haven't _done_ much. She's been sleeping a lot, barely eating, and I know she's trying her best to appease me—keep me occupied.

We've eaten at many restaurants . . . We bought wigs. I helped Mom to dye her hair an even darker brown. She looked hot. Her new hair makes her eyes more pronounced.

We've also rented like every movie this hotel has on Pay-Per-View.

I gazed at Mom again, wondering if I should let her sleep.

It was going on two o'clock in the afternoon . . .

We'd gone to bed late, though.

When we went to Walmart, we bought a few board games . . .

This vacation has been so exciting.

And I can hardly contain myself . . .

_Cue the sarcasm. _

Today, we're supposed to visit my uncle. Then, later on, we're going to stay at Alice's house. I couldn't wait to be around more people. This time I've spent with my mother . . . It's truly been amazing. I know I can be a brat, but we've talked so much. I think she understands me better.

However, I just don't think we're utilizing this time. You know? We should be living it up, going to bars, and flirting with guys . . . Neither of us would mean the latter, but it'd still be cool . . . let our fake hair down and all.

"Mom?" I whispered to see if she'd get up.

She didn't stir, still bundled in the blankets.

I shook my head, leaning back.

Even though she hadn't given me permission, I snuck out of the room and got us food from Burger King a half hour ago. It's not breakfast, but I got her coffee, and it was getting cold. She'll have to nuke it.

When her cell phone rang, I jumped—startled at the sound—and Mom hopped up, awake.

"Hello…?" She panted, and I knew it was Dad.

When he calls, she mostly just listens, and he sends his love . . .

Worst of all, I couldn't muster the courage to ask my mother what I wanted to the most . . .

My mind wanders and I wonder if this is really a vacation, or some front to get us out of Brooklyn.

It frightens me because . . . I just don't want my mother to lie to me, nor do I want to put her in a position _to_ lie.

She's said we're not in danger, and I believe her.

She answered my most pressing question, at least.

"I love you, too." Her voice didn't break. She masked it, but tears did fall.

I went to her bed and rubbed her back. "Hi, Dad!" I shouted.

Mom giggled. "He says, 'Wassup, Kylie Cat?'"

I smiled. "Miss you, too."

Mom winked at me, and I leaned back so she could sit up. "You've spoken to Sonny? How…? Oh." She nodded. "I'm glad." Her eyes widened. "I was worried." She looked to me. "I'm happy things are going well…for them. How are you?" Her eyes left mine, and she focused on her sock. "Awesome . . . Very cool. Okay. All right. Great."

I furrowed my brow, silently asking what was up.

Mom didn't answer me. "Amazing. I can't—Edward, I—Yes, I love you, too." She ended the call, slumping her shoulders.

I went back over to her. "When's he coming back? I know he's away somewhere."

She wiped her eyes. "Sorry, I'm a mess."

"It's okay to miss him," I whispered. "You'll think I'm crazy, but I miss him, too."

She laughed, hugging me close. "I bet you're starved. Sorry, I'm so tired. I'm not taking very good care of you—"

"Are you kidding?" I was a little disappointed and left her arms. "We've been so real with each other . . . I mean, I know you're hurting. I know…being away from Dad is hard for you. I don't want you…putting on some smile _just_ for me. You know? I have no problems crying _to you_." My lip quivered and I bit it down.

"Come here," she whispered, widening her arms.

I wasn't embarrassed to crawl right in there, enjoy her embrace and warmth. "I'm sorry you're sad."

"It's okay." She hugged me tightly, shaking me. "Things were just so crazy before we left. I barely had time to make heads or tails, and then we were leaving . . . Your father had left."

"Where did Daddy go?" I tested the waters with that.

"A business trip—nothing important. But he says we can go home on Monday."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "That soon?"

She hummed. "I'll talk to Dad when we get home. You're old enough, and I don't see why you can't fly down to see Gio one weekend...as long as you pay your own airfare. I know he'll be back for spring break—"

"You mean it?" I gasped. "I could go to Texas? I managed to get you coffee before—" I pointed.

"You, what?" she shouted. "You left—You didn't wake me before you just—fucking left?" My mother had never screamed at me like that before.

I cowered away from her. "I went across the street . . ."

"Fuck." She palmed her face. "You can't do that, Kylie."

I narrowed my eyes. "So, all this…this is just some…some…bullshit? You're talking about my freedom, but—"

"I'm not apologizing for screaming." She left the bed, staring me down. "You will not leave this room—leave my sight unless I know about it. Understand?"

"I—"

"I don't give a fuck!"

My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. "Mom…"

"Do you have any idea—Christ, if something happened to you…?" She was crying again. "I'm sorry. Going to Texas, where no one knows us, where there's no harm…that's different. Precautions need to be taken before you just walk out there. I bet you didn't even glance over your shoulder." She moved her arms with a flourish, her anger still visible in her words and demeanor.

I didn't know what to say.

Being used to having a short leash, I didn't see a point in . . . in anything.

Why should I even bother arguing?

I was saddened, disappointed . . . I felt like my spirit had died, like a prisoner in my own life, as I tried to mentally figure out how much money I had in my bank account.

Unlike my friend Maggie, I do think about running . . . just away.

Being here without an escort or a driver felt weird, but oddly incredible.

But it was all bullshit.

I had no true freedom.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**BELLA**_

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**A**_fter checking out of the hotel, Kylie and I drove to Middletown. As it turned out, we did have many more things to haul—take around with us. Edward was right in getting us the large car . . . but all of that didn't matter.

Kylie hasn't said a word to me. She's angry; I can see it in her eyes, but she has no idea how much she scared me.

If she'd just woken me up beforehand, I wouldn't have stopped her from going.

I would have followed her, made sure shit was cool before I hightailed it back to our room.

My heart was hurting because . . . I don't know. I wasn't going to apologize for reacting the way I did. No fucking way.

An enemy of Edward's . . . I didn't wanna think of what they'd do if they got ahold of Kylie. Or, what we'd endure if Kylie was harmed. I didn't even want to think about it.

A lot of times it's only a precaution, and she swears she understands . . .

I truly don't think she does.

When we left the highway, getting off at the Middletown exit, I gave Kylie a fleeting glance. "Do you plan to ignore me—give me the silent treatment forever? This trip'll be miserable…"

"Just leave me alone," she whispered.

"Oh, is that what you want?" I asked, sarcastic.

She nodded, staring out the window.

"Too bad." I grinned, stopping at a red light. "Can you just try to be me for a second?"

She shook her head. "I get it. Just let it go."

"I can't," I said.

"You have no idea what it's like to be _me_ . . . the only privacy I have is when I'm alone in my room. I can't go anywhere—I can't even fucking breathe, it seems, without approval!" she shrieked.

I cleared my throat, driving on when the light turned green. "Are you finished?"

She groaned, stiffening. "You're being like Dad!"

"Hey…when he's not around, I _am_ the Skip." I kept my tone hushed.

"What the fuck is a skip anyway?!"

"Watch your mouth!" I shouted.

"I don't even think it has that much to do with being a female." She spat. "You actually listen to what Sonny or Damion have to say . . . And no, you're not the Skip when Dad's gone. Sonny is. You take direction from him. You wonder why I'm like this? I mean, you—who did I have to look up to? You?" She snorted. "You tell me to be independent, be mature…Where would I have learned it from?"

"Excuse me?" I raised a brow, feeling as though her words grew hands and smacked me around.

"Dad said this, and Dad said that—you always listen to him. He says jump, and you ask how high? I mean, seriously? Your leash is just as short as mine, and you don't even complain! You don't care!"

"What?" I was confused. "Who's driving this car right now? Kylie Marie, there's no one following us . . . We technically don't have leashes right now."

"But you can't drive around in Brooklyn."

"Touché." I nodded.

Kylie became quiet again, and I guessed she didn't expect me to actually speak civilly or agree. That took her aback, and it made me smile.

"I wasn't always so compliant. But when you love someone as much as I love your father . . .? And when the one you love is more stubborn than a mule? You learn that you'd rather spend your time listening and trying to understand, rather than fighting." I huffed a breath. "Can_ you_ understand that, Kylie?"

"I guess," she whispered. "But you don't even fight for it at all, Mom. I _need_ to fight for it."

"Never stop." I gave her hand a squeeze. "Don't . . . I can promise it won't always be like this, though. You'll go to college, maybe move away with Gio for graduate school . . . _if_ you go. I don't know. The world's your oyster, baby girl. But as long as you live close to your father . . ." I trailed off, not wanting to say she was a huge target for anyone trying to get to him.

"That's what sucks."

I nodded. "Because you want to stay close—have your cake and eat it, too."

"It's not even like that. I just want my driver's license, a car . . . maybe sometimes I don't have to tell you where I'm going, or whatever. I'm not asking for anything special. You guys spoil me, but I want what everyone is pretty much entitled to—what everyone has. I need something—an inch."

"You'll get it. I promise, but . . ." I didn't know what to say or when I could guarantee her freedom. "Let's just make it 'til Monday, okay?" My eyes pleaded as I gave her another brief glance.

Kylie didn't reply with words, she just nodded.

In just two days, we'd be leaving for Brooklyn. Edward was already in Vegas. And as far as I knew, they were going to pop Heidi and get the fuck outta there—drive down to Arizona and hop on a plane.

He said he'd call with details—where we'd meet him. The objective was for all of us—as a family—to hit Brooklyn on the same day.

My husband said he'd spoken to Sonny. He was doing well but not doing much in Bermuda, which was the plan. Edward said he sounded good, happy.

He told me to not to call Damion. Carlisle had checked in with him, and that's what my brother in-law would have done if our plans stayed the same. Him calling wasn't out of the ordinary. Dame was none the wiser, carrying on as he usually does—going between work and school.

"You wanna see if we can get Alice to take us out tonight?" I asked, pulling up to the curb in front of Emmett's.

"Out...?"

"Yeah." I smiled. "There are bars and clubs up here, too." As I killed the engine, I saw Emmett jump from the porch in my periphery. "Whattdoya say?" I rushed out, trying to ignore my goon of a big brother.

"Hells Bells. Open up!" He tried the locked door to no avail.

I giggled and faced Kylie. "Maybe we'll, uh, take him with us?" I pointed to her uncle.

Kylie smiled. "He'd ruin our swag."

"Come on, B!" Emmett knocked on the window.

I laughed, opening the car door, only to be engulfed in a hug.

"It's been too long." He squashed me. "My baby sis."

I reveled in his embrace and tried not to cry. Also, I wondered how it was that . . . being here, being in his arms could transport me in time—how I could feel so young again. "I missed you."

Emmett kissed my hair. "Come on in. Rosie got cold cuts, all different types of bread." He paved the way for us to follow. "Need me to get your bags?"

"No." I waved a hand. "We're gonna stay with Alice."

"Alice?" He grimaced.

I winced, and it was only because of Jasper . . . Edward preferred us staying over there. "I—"

He scoffed at nothing—at me—only to beam at my daughter. "Kylie!"

"Uncle Emmett!" she shouted back, running and jumping at him.

It was cute, and my smile was huge as we walked into his house. It'd been ages since I'd been here. They always visit us in Brooklyn, have been visiting us for years.

"Is Grandma Swan here?" Kylie looked curious, and I could probably count on one hand how many times she'd seen my mother—her whole life.

"No . . ." Emmett looked to me. "Did you _want_ her here?"

"No!" I glanced at Kylie. "I mean—"

"Bella!" Rosalie came at me with open arms.

I sighed, taking in the scent of her shampoo. She's used the same one for years, and her blonde hair was just as long and shiny. Maybe Rosalie has aged like us all, but she was graceful and as beautiful as ever. "How are you?"

She smiled, a little misty-eyed. "I'm great. We can't let this much time pass . . . That one was supposed to get married."

"Funny." Kylie's tone was sarcastic.

Rosalie's eyes stayed on me. "I mean it."

"We always _mean_ it." 'Cause we always say the same thing—that we'll spend more time together, get together more, talk more…etc.

Nevertheless, and it's sad, we mostly see each other at weddings and funerals since we're all so busy with our immediate families and lives.

But I think that's the same with most families . . .

"Let me show you the deck." Emmett smiled wide. "After seeing what Jacob did to Jazz's backyard—" he shook his head "—the kid's a great carpenter."

"Em, let her settle first."

"I'll go." Kylie offered.

"All right," my brother laughed, placing his arm over her shoulders and ushering her away. "At least _someone_ cares about my new deck!"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "It's a deck." She shrugged.

I giggled. "Right."

She sighed. "Let me take your coat."

"Oh." I shrugged out of it. "Where—"

She took it from me. "I have lunch all set out in the dining room—"

As I gazed around, her home was immaculate. Most of the furniture was still the same—from years ago—but the place looked great. When Emmett and I had our falling out years ago, when he'd basically turned his nose up at our lifestyle, my husband stopped…giving him odd jobs? Associating with him in that way?

As per Edward, Emmett never complained, never asked for a thing.

I was grateful for many reasons, actually.

Emmett and I made up. Edward and Emmett have a cordial thing going. We get together when we can, and there are no complaints . . . Except that we should get together more often.

"Thanks. It looks amazing."

She waved a hand. "That old couch . . ." Rosalie walked toward the dining room. "Would you like something to drink?"

Rosalie had her back to me, and I grabbed her hand to gain her attention. "Rose . . . it's me," I said. "If I want something to drink, I'll get it—same with Kylie. And we can have sandwiches at your kitchen counter, like we used to."

She flashed a small grin. "Whatever you'd like."

I furrowed my brow. "Why are you being weird?" I was honest, because she was being odd. She wasn't treating me like… "It's me."

Anger seared through her gaze for a quick moment. "Can't I pretend we're not white trash for five-fucking-minutes?"

I laughed. "That's better."

"Christ. It's not even funny." She walked away from me.

"No, it is." I followed.

And it was only humorous because they're anything but. Maybe their bank account isn't as large as ours, but there's nothing trashy about Rosalie, my brother, or their lifestyle.

_**/=/=/=/**_

_**U**_nfortunately, all of Kylie's cousins were working—busy with their own lives. We didn't expect a grand welcome, as our visit was unexpected. I wished we could have seen them, though there's always tomorrow.

Emmett actually kept Kylie busy. I guessed she was bored or wanted space from me. But after he showed her the backyard, they went to the shed, and then to the garage to check out Em's tools.

Getting to sit, eat, and catch up with them was amazing. It did feel like old times, if only there wasn't so much tension between my brother and Rose. That was weird since they're usually so loving toward each other.

We were all going to Alice's for dinner, so I was only allotted a short amount of time to get the scoop.

When Emmett and Kylie settled in front of the television, I sidled up to Rose with my wine. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Rose topped off our glasses.

"Seriously…? You and Em?" I sipped my Pinot.

"What'd he say? What'd he tell you?" she asked, leaning into me.

"Not a damn thing. I'm asking you." I nudged her shoulder. "Tell me what's up? I can sense it."

"You're nosy," she sang.

"Yeah…" I nodded. "Tell me something I don't know. Like, what's going on?" I laughed.

"We're bickering more than usual, and I can't stand it—regular marriage stuff."

"Okay…" I pursed my lips. "I get it. Edward and I have rifts all the time. I mean, geez." I understood, more than she knew.

"Glad you admitted that much. You guys walk around like you're the perfect couple—always in the spotlight smiling. It's sickening." She grabbed my arms to shake me. "Sickening!"

I laughed so hard I snorted. "We . . ." I composed myself. "Truth…" I lifted my hand to properly testify. "We get into it…probably more than you and Emmett. But it does lead to great make-up sex. Can I get an Amen?" I kept my hand raised.

She guzzled her wine down. "No."

I dropped my shoulders and hand. "You guys don't—"

"Oh, we used to . . . but now—" she glanced into the living room "—he spends more nights in Lilly's old room." She stuck her tongue out. "It literally gets to the point where we're sick of each other."

"Really?" I couldn't imagine. Edward and I fight, but if I'm going to be miserable and stew, he's going to suffer it with me. I think Edward slept in the guest room once during our whole entire marriage. He tries to run, but I'd never let him get away.

There was a time when I'd go to run . . .

Then I knew better, and I learned how much misery does in fact love company.

"Really," she confirmed. "I mentioned a separation, but…we can't exactly afford to live apart—"

"What?" I shouted.

"Shhh." She hit my shoulder. "Just a little space from each other. That's all."

"No…" I felt tears prick my eyes. It was like finding out your parents are breaking up; I was incredibly saddened at that. "Why…Rose…"

"Relax. We're not—we're not doing anything."

"But if you're not happy…?" I didn't know what to say.

"The love's still there . . . at least _I_ think it is." Rosalie didn't even look upset, like she'd already come to her own conclusion. "Whatever. We've been together thirty-one years. Maybe—I don't know. My monkey man is _somewhere_ in there." She looked into the living room again.

I did, too, to see Charlie sitting on the recliner.

I gasped, shaking my head of the image—my heart jumping into my throat and skipping a beat.

"What?" Rose asked.

"I…" I looked back over my shoulder, frightened, but I only saw Emmett there now.

These days, he resembles his father more and more. It was just freaky, as if I'd just seen a—

"You're as pale as a ghost. I swear. It was—It was a thought. And you're an adult. Surely you know not everyone stays together _forever_."

I waved a hand, playing it off. "I know Emmett is still madly in love with you." I put the wine down, my heart beating a million times a minute.

Cautiously, I turned to my brother again as he laughed with Kylie at the TV.

It was just them—Emmett and my daughter.

"Bella?" Rose touched my cheek.

"Nothing." I shook my head, laughing. "Maybe you don't need more space…but more time together?"

She grinned. "I think that, too. We'll be fine. No worries, right?"

"No worries," I agreed, my voice still a bit shaky.

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

_**A**_n hour later we arrived at Alice's. Jasper surprised me and was there for dinner. So was Jacob, their youngest, who I believe still lives at home. My cousin didn't treat me any differently. Then again, we tend to see more of each other.

Kylie made herself at home, and she helped out a lot—kept herself busy.

Alice, Rose, and I didn't get to gossip. We didn't get a minute alone together; all of us hanging out at the table until dinner was served. I was stuffed from that sandwich at lunch, and I honestly wasn't hungry.

Dinner passed in a blur, a flurry of laughs, words, and movement. It wasn't as hectic or loud as the dinner parties Kylie and I are used to. It was nice, getting to spend time with them all, catching up—especially with Jacob, who went on and on about his recent projects.

The kid has a mean relationship with wood, nails, and his leveler . . . I don't know. I kind of zoned out while he was speaking.

Alice ate every word, very proud of her son.

Jasper didn't share their enthusiasm. In fact, he looked bored sitting here with us, like we were keeping him from something. Hell, we probably were. Midnight Sun does not run itself. Jasper's made his money, but he works for it . . . does what he does. And I wondered how much of a role Sonny took in that.

Edward used to look into things from time-to-time there. Now he couldn't be bothered. Then again, Sonny's probably looking into it _for_ him, making sure his father's not getting robbed.

When it got to be half past eight, Jasper had to go. A car was waiting for him outside, and he was going to Midnight Sun.

"Nice seeing you." Jasper kissed my cheek.

"Same here." I smiled.

"Where's Sonny been?" He buttoned his jacket. "I haven't—I haven't seen him or Edward in…days now. Aro either." He furrowed his brow. "Everything cool?" Jasper had cornered me in the foyer.

"Everything's great." If Jasper didn't know—about anything—there was obviously a reason for it. "I don't know about Aro." I shrugged. "Sonny took Maggie away for the weekend. He wouldn't even tell me. It was a surprise and…I'd tell Kylie and then Kylie tells Maggie," I sighed.

"I hear that," he laughed. "Us guys—we try to do nice things, surprise youse and—sometimes it don't work out."

"Right." I nodded. "I hope we're not intruding. Edward, with the cold he has..." I whistled, waving a hand.

Jasper winced. "He's sick? He's a bastard when he's sick."

I wagged my finger, not saying more.

"No offense." He smiled, showing me his palms. "Anyway, I gotta go." Jasper kissed my forehead again before leaving out the front door.

"Everything cool?" Alice asked.

"Perfect." I wrapped my arms around her neck to squeeze. "What are we doing tonight?"

"Tonight…?" Her face fell.

"Yeah." I nodded. "Come on . . . you don't wanna go out?"

"Out?" She scrunched her nose, and she wasn't being Alice-like. "Bitch, you call me outta nowhere, and now I gotta entertain youse? What the fuck?"

I cackled, leaving the foyer. "Get dressed. We're going out."

"I planned to do my roots tonight!" she shouted.

"Christ, Ma! The mouth…" Jacob ran up the stairs.

"You wouldn't have to hear it if you got your own place." Alice grumbled, leaving the landing. "He's gonna be twenty-three . . ."

"You don't mean that. As soon as he leaves—"

"I'd help him pack." She winked, not meaning a word, sitting next to Rose on the sofa. "So…where are we going? It's Bella's treat, right?"

"Sure." I rolled my eyes.

"What do you wanna do?" Alice nudged Kylie.

My daughter rubbed her stomach, watching as Emmett flipped through the channels. "I'm tired." She yawned.

"Tired?" We all shouted in unison.

"Long day . . . Can I use a phone to call Gio?"

"You don't have a cell phone?" Rose looked surprised.

"She dropped her iPhone before we got into the car. The whole screen cracked," I was quick to explain. "Here. Use mine, but—"

"I'll be quick." Kylie took the cell from me and walked off.

"It is getting late." I turned to Alice and Rose. "Where should we go?"

Alice gasped. "We should go to The Switch Inn. It's still a hot place to go—_new _owner though." She smiled at me.

"Okay." I nodded. "Sounds good."

Sadly, when Kylie came back from making her call, my brother made to leave. "You should come out with us," I said.

He glanced at Rose. "We'll catch up tomorrow?"

I nodded. "Definitely—"

"I'll take this one off your hands." Alice actually gave Kylie a noogie.

"Stop!" she whined.

I smiled, looking back up to Emmett, and I didn't want him to leave . . . "Have a few drinks…just a couple?"

His thumb grazed my chin. "Be good. If you guys need a designated driver, call me."

I reached to hug him tight before he took off.

From Alice's doorway, I watched Emmett get into his car and go.

"What should I wear?" Kylie leaned on me.

I pushed her off because she's not twenty pounds anymore. "You don't have to change. I'm not changing." I closed the door.

"We're in jeans…sweatshirts." She laughed in disbelief. "I don't understand."

"Well…we're in Middletown, and it's not the same as Manhattan. We're not going to one of your father's clubs." I highly doubt that she'd been anywhere else. "In fact, you might not even be served. You can sit with us—"

She snorted. "I have a fake ID."

I tried not to chuckle. "Have you looked at it?" If my daughter thought her age was fake on that, she gave her father a lot more faith than he deserved, or she's just incredibly gullible.

Edward—my husband, her father—has always been equipped with an alias for Kylie. Her surname actually matches my own in the ones we're using; we're easily mother and daughter—our birth years still the same, our last names matching.

"What?" She dug into her purse. "Nuh-uh."

I bit my lips together, leaving the hall. "I'm gonna go clean up. Ready to go in fifteen?"

Rose and Alice nodded. "Sure," they said, facing each other.

"No way! Why—Ma, answer this!" Kylie accosted me again. "Why give me a fake ID with my same—age!?" She was beside herself, and my eyes pleaded—hoping she'd compose herself. "I can't believe I'm not at least twenty-one!"

"Take it up with your father," I whispered. "And keep your voice down."

"I agree with Kylie. What's the point of having a fake ID then?" Rose asked, having heard our entire exchange.

Alice stared at me wide-eyed. "What's going on?" She shot up to meet me at the bottom of the stairs, and all I wanted to do was run up the steps.

"Nothing," I said.

"Bullshit. I have _fugazzi _papers, too." She placed her hand on her hip. "You use them—dye your hair a different color—" she gestured to me "—only when you want the old you to disappear."

"What?" I laughed. "Alice, Kylie asked her father for a fake ID. It's a prank—a silly, whatever." Truth be told, I didn't know how to get out of this one, but it sounded plausible.

She nodded slowly, squaring her jaw and walking closer. "Are you sure? I'll call Jasper and tell him to come right back here."

"There's no trouble. If there was—come on, Ali. We'd _all_ be hiding out. Right?" I raised a brow, lifting my leg to get farther away from her—go upstairs.

"True." She turned back to Kylie.

"I can't believe him!" my daughter shouted. "He thinks this is funny?"

Alice snorted. "Call him—yell at him on the prepaid." She stomped up the stairs, pulling me along with her.

"Alice!" I stopped her in the hall.

"You're bullshitting me. I know it. Tell me what's going on—if I gotta call somebody or what. You're more than welcome to hide out here, but I need to know what we're up against, too."

"Edward has the flu—a cold." I shrugged. "I told you. And Kylie was getting bored . . . Do you wanna call Edward?"

"What?"

"Call him. You mentioned it…and you _have_ his number." I knew his phone would be off. "If you don't believe me . . . Nothing's amiss. I promise. Geez. I won't visit again." I turned from her.

"Bella—"

"Alice..." I had a tone.

"I'll drop it, if you promise me—"

"There's nothing wrong and there's no trouble," I said.

"Okay." She walked around me.

I slumped against the hall wall, feeling exhausted.

Lying has always been hard work, which is why I never liked doing it.

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

**T**he Switch Inn looked exactly how I remembered it. We walked through a cloud of smoke to enter the darkened pub, and a bouncer immediately checked our IDs.

I think he gazed at Alice's, Rosalie's, and mine to be polite.

Kylie got a stamp on her hand to indicate she was underage.

And as soon as she walked past the doorman, she tried to lick it off.

"Stop," I giggled, pulling her hand away.

She lapped at it still. "If it comes off…hey. I'll be served."

"Is drinking _that_ important?" I asked, palming her cheek.

She dropped her hands at her sides. "No, I guess not. But next time something like this happens, check wit' me before you give tickets to Bermuda away," she ranted. "I could have gotten a tan, drunk my weight in mojitos—"

"Relax." I rubbed her back, her passion for the subject hilarious to me.

_I thought I was the one who needed a vacation._

"We could have gone snorkeling." Now she sounded like her father.

"I went snorkeling once," Alice added, and she already had a drink.

"Ohh, gimme a sip!" Kylie looked around herself.

"Back off." Alice leaned away. "Let's find a table."

I nodded, looking for Rose.

She was too busy chatting it up with the bartender. "Huh…" I snorted.

"What happened?" Kylie leaned on me again.

Instead of pushing her away, I ushered her to a table. "You want a soda?" I asked her.

"Root beer…see if they got Stewart's so it'll look like real beer." She nodded. "What's up with this music?"

Alice was singing along, getting louder when Kylie grimaced. "It's from when we were your age." She gestured between us.

I grinned at my cousin.

Kylie dug some money out of her purse. "Can I go to the jukebox?"

"I'll go with her," Alice offered.

When they turned to leave, I did, too—going over to the bar. "Hey." I nudged Rose's hip with my own.

"Bella." Rosalie placed her arm around me. "You remember Alistair, right?"

Looking at him, at who I know he was _supposed_ to be—a guy I'd slept with thirty years ago—I did not recognize him. He had grayish hair combed back, his face looking older…He didn't resemble the Al I knew at all.

Or maybe I was thinking of another person? No, there wasn't anyone else, except Eric...my high school boyfriend, or should I say, my high school mistake...?

_Christ. I'm getting old._

"Hi." I waved.

"Isabella Swan." He grasped my hand to kiss my knuckles. "How are you?"

I cleared my throat, prying my hand away. "I'm married—not a Swan anymore."

He nodded, his eyes turning into slits. "You married Edward Cullen. How could I forget…? Oh, did you want a drink?"

"I'll take an Absolut and cranberry…Can I have a Coors Light for my friend over there?" I glanced over to Kylie, knowing that'd make her night. It was only when I looked at her now that I regretted telling her she didn't need the wig.

It'd only make Alice more suspicious, and we were with a group . . . I was strapped.

"For you? Anything for you." He got busy making the drinks. "Is that your daughter?"

I didn't answer; I just smiled and turned my attention to Rose.

"He owns the place now," Rosalie said.

"You and him?" I whispered in her ear.

She scoffed, like I'd just puked on her. "Good God, no!"

When we both turned to Alistair, he grinned at us, and he was missing some of his teeth.

"Thank you, Jesus." I relaxed, thinking Rose's standards couldn't possibly go that low, while grateful she wasn't unfaithful.

"See?" Rose pushed me. "Just ewww."

I giggled, placing cash down on the bar.

"Your money's no good here, Bells." He winked.

"Bells." Rose poked my side to be a dumbass, tease me.

I elbowed her hand away. "Thank you." Before taking our drinks, I left a ten on the bar anyway. "Take care."

Rosalie cackled while we walked over to join Alice and Kylie. "You're in luck," she told her niece, handing her the beer. "Your mom used to boff the bartender."

"Rose!" I shouted.

Kylie's eyes were huge. "You, what? Is he the one who got you pregnant?!"

"Shhh." I slapped her thigh, taking a seat. "Shut up."

"Spill!" Kylie pushed my shoulder.

"Drink your beer," I said, sipping my Absolut and cranberry.

"Al? He was just your mom's fuck-buddy. You know? No strings. Hit it and run—"

"That's enough!" I scolded Alice.

"You hafta tell me everything." Kylie was in my face.

I was smiling until my eyes traveled back to Alistair.

He was staring back, but he was on his cell phone. At that moment my stomach rolled, although it's not like I can ask him who he's speaking to. "Is he still boys with Jasper?" I asked Alice.

"Mom! Come on!" Kylie laughed.

I ignored her, staring at my cousin.

"Maybe years ago…years and years ago. I don't even know what their relationship was back then." She guzzled her drink. "Oh, I gotta nurse it. Alcohol mixed with my meds makes me loopy." She winced.

"I'll drink it." Kylie went for it, and Alice blocked her, but my daughter only had eyes for me.

"It meant nothing," I laughed, deciding not to drink from my glass either, dread still in my gut. "We were kids. He—I don't know."

"He's busted, Ma." She snorted a laugh.

"Okay, thirty years ago—"

"She's right," Rose agreed. "He was hot back in the day, but we get older…"

Kylie scrunched her nose. "It's weird thinking about you with another guy."

I nodded. "It's weird for me, too." And it was, after being with Edward for long.

"How was the sex?"

"Kylie Marie!" I guffawed.

"Answer the question," she said.

"Answer. _I_ wanna know." Rosalie turned back to Alistair.

I did, too, and he was still on his phone.

"How big's his cock?" Alice asked, widening her hands.

I bit my lips together. "I don't remember." I was honest.

"Yeah, right!" Kylie didn't believe me.

"I get it." Rose nodded. "Before Emmett—well, no one ever compared." She was crestfallen.

I reached to rub her back, being happy about that. Maybe there was hope for them. But we all looked to Alice.

"I remember everyone I ever slept with." She nodded.

"Me, too," Kylie said.

"All two of them," I giggled.

"Two's a good number." My daughter nodded.

"A fantastic number." I pushed her hair off her shoulder.

Kylie frowned. "One is a better number...I wish I never, you know."

I pouted. "I know, baby girl. But you live and learn."

"Joe was hung, though." She pursed her lips.

"Yeah!" Rose shouted, giving Kylie a high-five.

I chuckled at their exchange.

"But no one compares to Gio," Kylie said. "He's huge—"

"Gio? Really?" Rose sounded very interested.

"Oh!" Alice exclaimed. "Did you want me to call Leah?"

"Who's that?" Kylie asked.

"She used to be your mom's best friend," Rosalie said.

"Bet she has some good stories." My daughter tickled my side.

I slightly shook my head no. "It's been years…" And I didn't want to run into any more people that I knew. "Next time."

"You always say that." Rosalie rolled her eyes.

I was content to let the subject die, my eyes going back behind the bar, and Alistair was no longer there.

Nevertheless, I tried my best to smile and think nothing of it. I mean, I was being totally and completely paranoid.

"There are no cute guys here at all." Kylie grimaced, finishing her beer. "Get me another one?"

"I'll—"

"It's cool." I cut Rose off, sliding off the stool. "Next round's on me." I wasn't sure if any of us had paid for a drop. "Be right back."

Alistair, the owner, was the only bartender here, so I waited with money in my hand for him to come back.

Not a minute later, he walked out beaming at me. "It's been so long."

"Yeah…Can I have another round?"

"Absolutely." He went on to get our drinks ready while he continued to stare at me.

I narrowed my eyes, looking away, staring back at the table, and trying to ignore it...his gawking. "You must make a lot of money on weekends." I tried for polite conversation.

"Eh…it's nothing like the places you guys own. I mean, your husband and Jasper."

I nodded, smiling.

"We don't get business like the joints in the city." He lined the bar with our drinks. "Your daughter looks just like you."

"She does," I sighed, trying to give him money again. There was no use in denying who Kylie was. She's a mini Bella; we look too much alike.

"Are you staying in town a while?" he asked, waving my cash away.

"A few days," I confirmed. "'Til Tuesday. But Alice's is so busy, we're staying at the Holiday Inn by the highway." I winked, and he leaned in closer. "Did we ever go there?" I thought by being nice, sounding a bit suggestive, it would distract him and maybe ease my mind. I had to lie just in case, make him believe we were staying in a hotel somehow...just in case.

He bit his lip, resting his forearms on the bar. "No. One time, we went to the Days Inn...We had a great time. Remember?" All I recalled was us hitting up a hotel once because…I don't remember why exactly.

_It was such a long time ago..._

"I remember," I lied. "You married?"

"Divorced…we had two kids…not long after you moved away." He touched my chin with his knuckle, and I practically cringed away in disgust.

Trying to mask it, I smiled around my straw, pretending like I was drinking my beverage. "It was great seeing you again."

"What? That's it? Two drinks?"

I giggled. "It's late. We're not as young as we used to be, huh?"

He sighed, slouching back. "We're not."

"Take care." I gathered all the drinks in both of my hands and went to turn away.

"Bella—" I felt a hand on my back, and then I saw Alistair in my periphery. He came around the bar to help me. "Maybe…we can meet up again? Before you leave? Go to lunch, or . . . Like old times?"

I grinned a sly grin, staring up at him. "I'm married."

He didn't give a fuck, still waiting for a real answer.

"It was nice seeing you. That's for sure." While I didn't mean that at all, I didn't want to piss him off, my paranoia shining through my smile.

"Come on…" He drawled, letting out a chuckle. "We'll go to lunch and—"

"Hey, skeezoid!" Kylie sidled up to me. "Stop worrying about your dick and go see a dentist!"

"Kylie!" I shouted, and I almost dropped the glasses in my hands. "Alistair—" I was about to apologize, but my daughter grabbed my forearm—made me drop the drinks—and pulled me away. "Kylie!" I pulled back, stuck, at a loss and highly embarrassed.

"We're leaving." She tossed my coat at me.

Alice and Rose wore mortified expressions, making to leave as well.

"I'm sorry." I mouthed to Alistair, and he sneered back at us.

We'd worn out our welcome...obviously.

In a single file, we all rushed to get the fuck out of there—Kylie tucked in my side.

Before we were out the door, I looked back and saw Alistair on his cell again.

"I'm driving." I held my hand out for Alice's keys.

She gave them up right away, laughing her ass off. "Hey, Skeezoid!" My cousin stole Kylie from me, my daughter cracking up as well.

"She's your fucking kid...for sure," Rose said, trying not to giggle. "I'm heading home. We'll see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely." I gave her quick hug before I hopped into Alice's car.

A minute later, Rose wasn't even behind her wheel, and I was peeling out of the parking lot.

Alice, who thought Kylie hilarious, had to regale Jacob with the story when we got back to her place.

I excused myself to call Carlisle.

Having no idea who Alistair was these days, what he was up to, my thoughts flew away from me. Him knowing who I was now, which he's always known, but seeing me in Middletown without my husband.

Kylie insulting him…

_"Yo!"_ Carlisle boomed.

"Hey…uh…I don't know." I didn't know where to begin.

_"Where are you? I'm on my way."_

"No, no…" I blew out a breath, thinking myself ridiculous. "We're at Shorty Doo-Wop's." I meant Alice. "We don't need to haunt the place like ghosts." I hoped he knew I wanted to leave.

_"What happened?"_

"We were thirsty…saw an old jump off," I whispered.

_"Who?"_

"Not important," I laughed shakily.

_"I know of a few friends of ours in the neighborhood. It'll take me over an hour to get to youse—"_

"No friends." I kept my tone hushed, sticking my head out the bathroom to hear Alice and Kylie laughing. "When Doo-Wop goes out of style, I'll change."

_"Into what?"_ he asked.

"Whip it…" I referred to our car. "I'll let you know when I do."

_"I'm heading up there anyway."_

"Bet," I said, ending the call.

When I went back downstairs, Kylie was still smiling, proud to have defended me. I understood it all too well, and I appreciated it, and under other circumstances I would think it's funny.

"Can I go get our bags?" Kylie asked. "I want my PJs."

Alice was on her way out of the kitchen.

"Ali—" I gave her a hug "—I'm beat."

"Oh, girl. Me too." She pursed her lips. "Youse'll be okay? Damn. I only had one drink." With all the meds she's on for her ailments, I knew she'd be out cold in no time. "I'm so tired...need my bed. The guest room's all set."

"Go 'head. I know where everything is."

She embraced me once more. "I love you. Thanks for coming. Believe it or not, tonight's the most fun I've had in ages." She held my cheeks.

I leaned over to kiss her lips, squeeze her around the neck. "Same here."

She yawned, leaning away. "Goodnight."

Kylie and I waved, watching her retreating form go.

Once she'd ascended the stairs, I turned to my daughter. "Go use the bathroom. Try not to be loud…We're leaving in two minutes—two."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Don't argue with me." I gave her a push toward the bathroom.

Kylie didn't complain and did as I asked.

While she was gone, I wrote Alice a quick note, explaining how Edward called. My husband was miserable, threw a fit, and wanted us home as soon as possible.

It was plausible, and I put it on the fridge.

When Kylie was finished and I had my coat on again, I looked to Jacob in the living room and I had to speak over the loud-ass TV. "I'm gonna go out and get our bags."

He barely looked at me, giving me a brief nod, his eyes heavy.

"Okay," I said.

"I'm going with you." Kylie held my hand, fear in her eyes.

I waved to Jacob. "Be right back."

He didn't respond, or maybe he just didn't care.

Behind the wheel, I started the car right up. Kylie strapped herself in, and then we were heading for the highway.

I thought we'd go north.

"What's going on?" Kylie asked.

"Nothing—"

"Bullshit. We sneak off like bandits or something—tell me!"

I blew out a breath, getting onto the main road. It was quiet, and I kept looking into all my mirrors. "That guy…I got a icky feeling in my stomach."

"What?"

Giving her a brief glance, she was still staring at me. "I can't explain it," I said. "And we don't have drivers…I thought it best we left."

"Oh." She settled down, and I heard her whimper. "We were just having fun."

"I know, baby girl." I grasped her jaw.

"I didn't even care about the bar. That guy was creepy."

"So, you understand why we left?" I asked.

"Yeah." She sniffled. "Sorry."

"It's all right," I sighed, lifting the cell phone. "We're almost outta gas. I'm gonna stop and call your uncle. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Do not leave the car." My tone was stern as fuck as I pulled into the Mobil station. "You lock the doors and you don't leave—no matter what."

"I won't," she whispered, turning to me. "I'm scared."

I smiled. "Do I look scared?"

She shook her head and then thought better—nodding just as fast. "I don't know."

I put the car in park, digging into my purse. "I know we're fine, but just in case." I opened my bag, letting her take a peek inside.

"But—"

"I'm not afraid to use it." That was the absolute truth. "You'll be fine—"

"I don't like the way you said that." She glanced around. "There's no one here."

I pointed to the attendant. "There's a guy right there."

She blew out a breath. "Am I being silly?"

"Yes," I laughed, lying through my teeth. My paranoia was getting the best of me, making me anxious. "We're fine." I turned, leaving the car.

Once I was by the gas pumps, I took a fifty out of my purse. The young man offered to do it, load our tank, and I thought that was great. It gave me the opportunity to try and squash my daughter's fears.

She sat stock still, her eyes going everywhere.

"Look at me." I palmed her cheek. "We're fine. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Kylie…" I shook her.

She cracked a grin. "I believe you."

"Good." I called Carlisle again.

My brother-in-law picked up on the first ring, letting me know he was on the thruway. He'd asked me not to go north, but head back toward Brooklyn.

"We're going back toward Manhattan."

That actually loosened Kylie up a little bit. "Good. More people. It's too quiet up here."

I was still on the fence, and we were still at the gas station. "Maybe—" I wanted to suggest we go back to Emmett's, but that wasn't an option. Seeing my family was no big deal. They wouldn't tell anyone of importance where we were or alert anyone to our presence.

Also, going out to the bar wasn't that big a deal either.

Alistair—that was the straw that broke the camel's back—seeing us. Meanwhile, that might not be anything at all. His behavior was shady, made my belly ache, and it had nothing to do with seeing an old flame…if that's even what he was.

"Maybe, what?" Kylie asked.

"Nothing." I placed the car in gear, slowly entering the road again. "Everything's fine."

"Okay," she whispered, sitting back.

"We're gonna drive—meet up with your uncle. Maybe he'll have a good idea? Something fun?" At this point, I honestly didn't see anything wrong with using our aliases and heading to Texas for two days.

"I just wanna stop—" She waved to her stomach.

"You're gonna be sick?" I went to pull over.

"I meant being nervous. I'm sorry. I'm not strong like the rest of you." She covered her face. "You're all so tough—"

"Hey…" I laughed, reaching to grab her hand as I pulled onto the highway. "Are you kidding? You were so brave before—rude as fuck, but brave?"

"He was—he was stepping to you, being creepy."

"And you stood up for me!" I shouted. "Kylie, that was very brave." Maybe if she'd known he could possibly be a real threat, she would have played it cool like me.

"But my doing that is why we're running away—"

I ignored that. "We could have gotten kicked out of the bar, yelled at—you didn't care. That takes balls . . . and you stood up for me. Do you know how proud Dad would be? Hell. I'm going to tell him. I bet he gives you money." I kept my smile in place.

"I was a little scared," she whispered. "But I just wanted him to back off."

"You know what? Thank you," I said. "Because…I _was_ uncomfortable. I didn't know what to do...but I was trying to be nice. Who knows, though? If you didn't do that…_I _might have gotten scared."

"No, you wouldn't have."

"Yes." I nodded. "You've only ever gone to a bar or a club with your dad, Sonny, or your uncles with you…It's scary—being approached, not knowing what's up. Who knows what he would've said or even tried to do? If I was persistent and kept saying no? It is…can be scary. But you stood up for yourself and me."

I was laying it on thick, but I didn't care—would do anything to make her not afraid, take her mind off of us fleeing my hometown.

* * *

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	42. The Torch

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. Beta'd by HollettLA who loves me and missed my words.**

**Very sorry for the wait . . .**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Forty-Two: The Torch**

**EDWARD POV**

_**W**_e drove all the way to Topeka and then hopped on a plane to Salt Lake City. We'd planned on going through Arizona, but flying to Utah worked out better.

From the airport, we took a cab to this town called Gold Hill.

Then we had to walk two miles to the address Maisano had given me.

Our flying under the radar was working out well. We'd made so many twists and turns, changing our direction. We even ditched the whip, which already had fake plates, somewhere in Kansas. We'd taken a cab to the airport.

I was confident no one knew where we were.

When we approached a raised ranch-styled home, Aro and I looked to each other.

"This is the address…" He drank from his bottle of water.

"Knock," I said, easing my way toward the right side of the door. While on foot, I'd picked up a large stick. I'd bop whoever-the-fuck over the head if this was some setup.

Getting on the plane, we had to lose our weapons, which meant I had to improvise.

Aro knocked softly, waiting.

"Who is it?" The voice sounded familiar, and I went to stand near Aro.

"Who you think?" I asked back, which made the door open.

Maisano's son, Nicholas, stood there in boxers. It looked like he had just woken up. "Come on in." He wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"How you doin'?" I slapped my hand to his.

"I'm good . . . This is it." He shrugged, turning in a circle.

Aro and I entered into what looked like a hideout—there was barely any furniture, it was in the cut—in the middle of nowhere. I bet Maisano has a few of these spots.

"There's a fridge full of food—drinks. Feel free to shower, too." Nicholas waved toward a hallway.

"Thanks," I said as I took off my hoodie and got a good whiff of myself. It was nasty. I stank and I felt sticky, sweaty. "I'd like to be outta here in thirty."

Nicholas yawned, grabbing a beer off the coffee table. "That whip behind the house is for youse—we'll leave whenever you're ready."

"Nice." I nodded. "I'mma shower—bathroom's this way?" I pointed.

Nicholas nodded. "I been waitin' for youse…I thought you'd get here yesterday."

"So did we," I admitted, letting out a sigh.

"We went off course." Aro kicked off his shoes.

After showering and cleaning up, we had a bite to eat. Nick had cold cuts, bread, and shit, but I was aching to get back out there.

Truth be told, I was exhausted. I missed sleep, my bed, and, most of all, my wife.

This run was nothing like the rides we'd taken back in the day.

First of all, we didn't have the time to do much of anything, as the last two days have been spent traveling—only traveling: cars, trains, and planes. Plus, when we used to do these runs, I wasn't being watched. Well, I was, but the heat was on Marcus back then. Now I'm the boss, and so it's on me. That's why we had to take the long way.

**/=/=/=/=/**

_**M**_aisano's son came with us. In fact, he did the driving. I rode shotgun, content to enjoy the scenery, which…there wasn't much to look at, and Aro slept in the backseat.

"Did'ju wanna stop? There's this club—"

"No, thank you," I said. "Let's keep it moving."

He nodded and silence fell upon us.

When we entered Nevada, we stopped to get gas, use the bathrooms, and get shit to drink.

While I got in the car, my new cell started buzzing in my pocket. Last night, I broke the one I had and tossed it into the trash somewhere. Sadly, I don't even remember where exactly. But as soon as Nick hooked me up with another cell, I called Carlisle. He said he'd be in touch; he'd call when he had a new phone—another phone, so I should expect to see a number unknown to me. That was over an hour ago.

I knew it was Carlisle calling me back. And I was only shocked to hear from him because he knows not to call unless something's up. When it comes to Bella, she knows that _I_ call her—I've been calling her once daily just to say hello.

"_We had a problem,"_ was the first thing he said. _"I couldn't get into it—talk to you earlier."_

I snapped my fingers for Nick to drive. He peeled out of the gas station. "What's up?" I asked Carlisle.

"_The belles had to flee the ball."_ Bella and Kylie had to leave Middletown—that was the last place they were at.

"That's a shame." I told myself not to get worked up; meanwhile, my heart started pounding away in my chest. "What—"

"_Everything's fine. No worries." _

"But—" I massaged my forehead, confused.

"_We found a glass slipper, and they're happy." _

I didn't know what he was getting at. "Try again."

"_They went to see Mickey, Minnie, and that fuck Goofy…" _If I had to guess, they'd gone to Disney?

"They flew the coop?" I wanted to know if they'd taken a plane. I told Bella yesterday that we'd be meeting up on Monday—a little less than two days from now. I had to lie, tell her everything was good and we were near Vegas already to ease her mind.

But I meant what I said. As soon as we pop Heidi, we're driving to an airport and heading home.

No fuss.

No drama.

No dragging it out.

We were to get it done and get outta there.

After speaking to Maisano days prior, Aro and I didn't even have to clean up. Nick's brother was meeting him, and they're gonna take care of it for us. I had mixed feelings about that—wanting to do it and carry it out to the finish.

But time wasn't on my side . . . and I had Maisano's word, which is as good as gold.

We were golden.

Again . . . anyone who'd be looking for me was to think I was in Bermuda. I'm in the spotlight, the Feds always keeping an eye out—on me. They watch me like a hawk, and so I have to be very careful.

I can dole out orders . . . conduct my business, but I can't be caught doing any of this shit.

And Heidi being in WitSec . . .

She won't have an armed guard or anyone watching her. But as soon as she's missing and/or found dead—she won't be because she's to disappear—they'll come looking for me.

Meanwhile, I was in Bermuda . . .

They won't look at anyone else.

"_On a blue jet."_ Carlisle chuckled, and we'd just passed the "Welcome to Carson City" sign. _"No worries."_

I guess they took JetBlue . . . on a blue jet. "Okay." I wanted to ask what'd happened, but our code-speak wasn't that difficult to decipher…if anyone was listening, which they weren't. I'm just paranoid with this cell phone shit. "How's everything else?" I truly wondered if anything else was going on.

"_It's nice and quiet—clear skies on The Reefs."_ That's the name of the resort in Bermuda. _"Mister and Missus doing just fine. No one's…the wiser."_ Everything was cool.

"The belles—"

"_Are fine,"_ he confirmed.

"Okay." I ended the call to slump back.

It was starting to get dark, which was perfect.

Aro let out a loud yawn, and when I turned to look at him, he was stretching. "You know what I was thinking?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"H's gotta be an old lady now."

I shrugged.

"She is," Nicholas agreed.

Aro and I stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

"My pops had us watching her." He continued. "I mean…" Nicholas looked to me. "This is my shot. I do this…successfully pull this off, I got your respect…and I got my father's respect. Things'll work out."

I nodded, not saying anything.

"I won't fuck this up. I'll be waiting…When youse are done, you let me know…me and my bro'll take care of everything else—you know, TJ? You have my word."

"I respect your father," I said. "But if—"

"You can trust me."

I quirked a brow, thinking him ballsy for cutting me off.

"I know it's my ass." He rushed out. "And if my dad didn't think…we could do this…he wouldn't have…let us in. You know? He trusts us. You can trust us. I mean, we don't pull this off…you'll pretty much wipe us off the map." He laughed, all nervous-like.

Since Nicholas already knew his place—and I was tired—I didn't feel like threatening him or being nasty. He knows what's up.

"What _else_ you know about her?" I asked, my tone condescending; however, I'd done my homework—knew a lot about Heidi already.

"Um…she's widowed…lives with her adult son, goes to bingo on Fridays…son works nights at some factory off Route 395…Youse showing up late—today, Friday—will actually work out better." He gave me a fleeting glance. "Youse sneak in before she gets home—"

"Thanks." I got the general idea, and I didn't like some kid telling me what I _should_ do.

"She's an old lady," Nicholas confirmed once more.

Aro hit my shoulder, leaning between the two front seats. "You…don't feel weird about that? Icing some ancient hag?"

"Nope," I said. "We'll get it done and get the fuck out. You feel a certain way…be easy knowing she lived a full life; died at an old age." I rolled my eyes. "And_ I'll_ do it."

"Nah…I'm not saying that," Aro laughed. "I don't give a fuck."

"She's sixty-four now." I nodded. "Goes by the name Ashley Davis. Her son's like thirty-one…his name is Smith Davis." I couldn't help myself and laughed. "Those names…very American."

"Feds didn't do too good a job since those sound exactly like aliases." Aro snorted.

"You're right," I said.

"She lives down this road." Nicholas pointed to his left and then turned. "Comstock Mobile Home Park—"

"A trailer?" Aro asked.

"Federal funding must be bullshit," I commented, enjoying the scenery. Again, there wasn't much to look at, especially since it was dark as fuck. "How much farther?"

"Mile and a half," Nicholas said.

"Pull over. We'll walk—"

"Yo…we did enough walking." Aro interjected.

"We're walking," I said again, placing the nine Nicholas had given me in my waist. "Nick…we'll be in touch." I slapped his back as he veered to the right to let us out. "Go get your brother." He was supposed to be hiding out someplace close.

"The car…" Nicholas turned toward me. "Here are the keys." He placed a set in my palm. "It's parked behind an old gas station…that's another mile up this same road. You'll be good—won't be seen. As soon as you call, we'll go clean up. Youse go back East."

I shook his hand. "It's been a pleasure."

"Oh, Mr. Cullen. The pleasure is all mine." He touched his chest.

I grinned, turning to leave the car.

"What do you guys do—to make a body disappear?" Aro asked him.

"Pop owns a butcher shop over in Eagle Valley. Bitch is really gonna disappear—without a trace." Nick nodded.

"We do the same shit," Aro said, glancing over to me. "I thought with all the desert land…"

"Condominiums," Nick said. "They're being built up all over. Other spots…hey, I'm sure there are plenty of bones out there in the reserves. Nowadays, though, with tourists and shit, the population rising…the Feds being all fucking nosy…We do what we can. And…no body, no problem."

Aro shook his head. "I was excited—thought I'd learn something new. It's the same shit out here."

Standing on the desolate road, I smirked to myself. "Come on." I jerked my head.

Aro left the car and then we took off on foot again—for the second time today.

"Damn." My buddy shivered and hugged himself. "The sun went down and it's all cold."

"Stop." The only objective I had was getting to Heidi's crib.

"I'm just saying…and this trip has been boring as fuck." He kicked a rock. "We did nothing but travel—"

"Look—" I laughed, wanting to fuck with him "—I'm just as sick of looking at you, too. I wanna do this shit and get home…" I gave Aro a wary glance. "Can we get there? I mean, there's scorpions, rattlesnakes…"

"Fuck!" He practically ran up the road, walking speedily.

I chuckled and kept it moving.

"We're getting in that car and driving straight up to Idaho to a plane...I don't give a fuck. I hate this desert shit," he complained.

I nodded, glad he got all those silly notions of acting twenty-five again out of his head.

When we approached the trailer park, Aro jumped back and fired two shots into a bush. Startled, I gave him a wide berth, trying to see what he was shooting at. The guns we had were silent, but Aro's small whimper was not. I also saw the flash of light from his nine.

"There was a snake—this big!" He widened his arms. "I swear to Christ." He backed away from the bush.

I pursed my lips. "Did'ju get him?"

Aro grimaced. "It wasn't my imagination."

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. "Never said it was." We were still standing in front of the shrubbery that seemed to line the park. "Uh—" I stopped talking when a skinny rabbit-looking thing with big ears came hopping out. He ran right on past us…across the road.

Aro slumped his shoulders. "Just a jackrabbit."

"A what?" I asked.

"It's…a type of rabbit."

I nodded, but to me it looked like a cross between a scrawny deer and a rabbit. "Can we…?"

"Dude, my bad," he whispered.

I didn't say anything, continuing on into the trailer park.

"I thought it was a scorpion."

"I thought _you_ thought it was a rattlesnake?" I smiled, widening my arms. "This big!"

"Whatever," he grumbled, placing his skully cap back on.

I did the same, fastening my gloves as well.

Neither one of us said a word, nor did we stay on the paths, slowly trailing in the shadows toward the west end of the park—walking behind all the trailers.

Every once in a while, Aro would jump when something touched him. I'd successfully fucked with his head, which was so much fun. I kept flicking his ears or gently poke at his neck.

Then he'd silently scold me…

_Hey, I had to do something…to amuse myself. _

The late hour helped us go unseen in the small community. That's exactly what it was. There was a tennis court and a pool, and mobile homes lined the short blocks. We reached Heidi's joint within ten minutes. It was dark. No lights were on. No one was home.

Her windows weren't locked, and we managed to quietly enter her home. From what I could see in the dark, her home didn't look too bad. She had decent furniture, it was clean. Curious, I grabbed a few photos from her mantle and held them up to the light that shone through the window. There was one of Heidi and her husband, one with her and her two kids. She was obviously older, but it was obviously Heidi. She's wrinkled and she has bleached blonde hair these days.

But it was her.

"Old," Aro whispered from over my shoulder.

I chuckled without sound and then followed him into the kitchen.

Casually, we sat at her table and waited for her to get home. We kept our voices hushed and spoke about bullshit; however, we didn't have to wait long.

A half hour after we arrived, we heard keys jingling in the door.

Not alarmed, we stayed seated at the table, sharing a glance with one another.

"Come on…you stupid cat." She sounded the same, maybe she had more gravel in her voice that came with age.

An orange cat ran across the kitchen doorway before we heard her close the front door. Heidi came around the corner as she flipped through her mail. That seemed odd, as people usually do that much earlier in the day.

"Bill…bill…bill," she sighed but still hadn't noticed anything amiss, "advertisement—" She plopped the stack of mail onto the counter and froze. Heidi finally saw us. Her eyes landed right on Aro and came crawling over to me.

The three of us didn't move, but I hoped I wouldn't have to chase her. I _wouldn't_ chase her. Fuck that.

"Looks like you've seen a ghost." Aro chuckled.

"Two ghosts." I held up a couple fingers. "Have a seat." I kicked a chair out for her.

She hesitated but had taken one step forward.

"I'm not asking." I looked to the chair.

Heidi gulped, holding her stomach. "I knew…knew you'd…you'd find me." She had yet to start crying and sat down across from me. "I told, told them. I'm not on the government's payroll anymore. You don't—don't have to." I saw a tear roll down her cheek. "I never told them anything," she cried. "Never. They asked if I would work with them—plant someone. I asked them to hide me. I knew…I fucking knew." She stared at me.

I leaned toward her. "Why…?" Getting into this wasn't my intention. I'd wanted her to see us. I wanted her fear, but she should be dead already.

"My-my late husband—you remember him—couldn't find a job. I worked at Eclipse…and I did what I had to for extra cash."

"Such as?" Aro asked.

"Aro…" She stared at him. "You look—you both look exactly the same."

My friend didn't repeat himself, but Heidi kept going anyway.

"I got in with Felix…delivering here and there."

I held up a finger. "You disappeared before…" Heidi had taken off before the Feds caught up to Felix, before I was put away and had to ice Felix. Once his testimony was out the window, I was let go until they arrested Joe, and then I was pinched again.

"We were both arrested at the same time. They flipped us both on the same day. Felix was to carry on like nothing had happened. I was to place that agent in your club." She wiped her eyes. "No matter what he gave them, he was gonna have to do time. But…they gave me a sweet deal. He was gonna get time off for dropping the dime."

"Makes sense," Aro said.

"As-as far as I knew…they weren't…they didn't get anything from Felix. I hired Gail…and when she was found dead, they pulled me out. They packed my family up in the middle of the night, and…we left." She shrugged, using the back of her hand to wipe her nose. "But Felix..."

"He was still wired for sound for another two years," Aro sighed, facing me.

"They pulled me...knew you'd get suspicious, and they were afraid Felix would point to me. He was too valuable," Heidi said.

"It took over three years for them to build something against us with Felix." Aro chuckled. "Still...it wasn't much. We must have been doing something right."

"I was good to you." I nodded, staring at her. "I gave you enough money. I treated you well—"

"I did what I had to, to support my family. Then…I couldn't go to prison!" She started to sob.

"Stop crying." Aro snapped his fingers in her face.

"I killed Felix," I said. "I watched the life leave his eyes." I leaned in closer to toy with her hair. "That's what I plan to do with you, too." I poked her nose with my gloved finger.

She let out a wail that made me smile; meanwhile, I was lying. I didn't pop Felix. I was in prison until he died, but it didn't make a fucking difference. It may have taken us a while to catch on to Felix, but I have Bella to thank for making me question Heidi. My wife, with that great intuition of hers.

"Please..." she begged. "My son—leave my son alone." She reached for me, and I pulled back. "He knows nothing—was eighteen months old when we moved. He doesn't know anything."

I hummed, and while Heidi had her head bowed—crying into her hands—I popped one in her head. The bullet whipped the air without sound, and her body fell back and onto the kitchen floor.

My actions surprised Aro, who almost flew out of his chair, too. "Dayum…" He drew out the word. "That was cold, Skip. Even for you."

I didn't care, nor did I say anything as I stood up to walk over her dead body. Adrenaline didn't flow through me. I definitely wasn't remorseful. The job needed to be done, and I did it. Case closed.

Aro drew his heat, popping her with two more holes. "We're really not gonna clean up?" Unfortunately for him, that's his favorite part.

"No...wrap her in something—make it easier for the boys to clean," I said, not giving a fuck.

While Aro did that, I hopped out the back bedroom window and lit a cigarette. As I waited, I called Nicholas. "We're done." I ended the call, knowing he and his brother would be here within minutes.

And Heidi's son wouldn't be home until five in the morning. They had plenty of time to clean the scene, but I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

Before I was finished smoking my bone, Aro jumped out. "Ready?"

I nodded, putting the cherry out with my shoe and shoving the butt into my pocket.

This time, while we walked, Aro wasn't as jumpy. I honestly felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Heidi was done, another witness down. In fact, she's the only witness I knew of who had to go.

We made it to the Ford Focus with no problems, and we went north. The car had a change of clothes and new shoes for each of us, a cooler filled with drinks, and some sandwiches. I took the first shift driving.

After six hours of riding along the Nevada border, I stopped to take a piss and stretch my legs. We weren't at a rest area. The most surprising thing about this trip was how scarce the population was this far west. Well, we didn't come across many in our travels. And I'd ditched our clothes in a dumpster. It seemed there were houses up the side roads.

Getting back behind the wheel, Aro stirred awake, wondering where we were. When he looked around, he said he was going back to sleep—to wake him when I got tired or we were out of Nevada, because he hates sand and sand monsters, I guess.

That was when I got the call from Maisano himself.

Everything was taken care of.

The job was done.

His sons were staying local—near Carson City—so they could catch wind of any news of Heidi.

Determined to push it out of my mind, I kept driving and thought of nothing.

It took about nine hours to make it to Twin Falls, but we didn't stop there for long.

Aro needed to take over so I could rest my eyes.

Not able to fall asleep, I listened to the radio and thought about calling Bella.

I didn't.

Until I knew what we were doing for certain, I didn't want to worry her. Although, I did want to alleviate her fears—tell her it was all over and that we would be home earlier than Monday…possibly. Instead, I called my brother—told him to tell Bella to take the earliest fight possible on Monday morning. Carlisle said he'd handle it—to do what I gotta go and get back to New York myself.

When we reached the Boise Airport, we ditched the car in the parking lot—took off the plates and threw them in the trash along with the nines and the gloves. The Delta flight had a layover in Seattle.

By the time we landed in SeaTac, it was close to midnight, which would make it almost three a.m. Monday morning in New York.

Before we caught our second flight, I called Bella.

She seemed relieved that everything was settled—that we were far enough away and on our way out of Washington. Bella and Kylie were about to catch a direct flight home, too.

This plane was taking us to Philadelphia, where Carlisle had a car waiting for us.

Raphael, a kid who's on his way up, was parked outside. He waved his hands to get our attention, fast to tell us that my brother sent him.

We ran into his whip, both of us rubbing our hands together, frozen.

"Turn the fucking heat up!" The hoodies Nicholas had supplied us with didn't do shit for the East Coast weather, which was still set to cold as fuck.

"March, April…maybe even May. We got like three more months of this shit." Aro rubbed up his biceps.

I gnashed my teeth together to keep them from chattering, but otherwise…masked the fact that I was so cold.

When Carlisle called to say Bella and Kylie were landing in twenty minutes and that Sonny and Maggie were already waiting for us all at JFK, I breathed a sigh of relief. We'd all leave that airport together. Bella and our daughter would meet up with Sonny before I got there, and they knew to keep their heads down until we arrived—be inconspicuous.

Everything was working out well.

I knew it all would—my family isn't stupid, but there was no time for hiccups or fuck-ups. None of that.

I slept for most of the two-hour ride over to New York.

Exhausted, I don't plan on leaving my home for at least a week, my bedroom for at least three days . . .

Still in our disguises, we practically ran to the Cinnabon where we were meeting my family.

My eyes found Bella first. Her hair was darker, like she said it would be. She was in sunglasses yet bundled for the cold weather. I knew it was Bella, but the Feds wouldn't recognize her at all. She was beautiful, so pretty my chest ached when I saw her; my eyes pricked too, but I shook it off.

Kylie and Maggie were talking a million words a minute, and I was able to hear them from a couple paces away. Sonny stared right at me. He smiled, slightly jerking his chin in my direction.

Bella still hadn't seen me.

"Hey..." I reached for her coffee.

"Edward!" She jumped into my arms. "Oh, Edward!" Bella peppered my face with kisses, and I felt like a million bucks, finding it ironic that this—seeing Bella again—was such a rush, more enjoyable than that shit I did out in Nevada.

"Hey, you." Was all I could say as I gazed into her eyes. We were both wearing shades, but it didn't help Bella. I caught a tear with my fingertip. "I missed you." I licked the salty water from my finger.

Bella didn't say anything. She just hugged me tightly.

"Hi, Dad!" Kylie waved, and I reached to hug her as well.

While I greeted my ladies, Aro struck up a conversation with Sonny as Maggie awkwardly stood at his side.

And I was brought right back to the place I was days prior.

Old problems still existed.

The world didn't stop just because I went across the country.

"Ready to go?" I asked, leaving my arms draped over my girls' shoulders.

Bella hummed, burying her face into my side.

"I am so ready to go home." Kylie snorted, stepping away from me to walk alongside her friend.

I sighed, turning to kiss Bella's hair. "I'm exhausted."

"Me too," Bella whispered, and her chin wrinkled.

"Stop it. I'm home," I laughed.

"I know." The lip quivered.

"So cute." I nipped at that mouth. "How's things—how's…everything?" I looked to Sonny. He was the same, didn't have a tan.

"Good." He nodded. "It's good to be home…I'm exhausted."

"You're preaching to the choir," Bella said.

"We ready to go home…?" Aro looked to us all. "Lisa must be—"

"You didn't call Lisa?" Bella gasped.

Aro winced. "She knows I was somewhere doing something."

"Aro!" Bella punched his shoulder, and he laughed.

I ignored their conversation as we moseyed out to the car, and each one of us took our hoods, hats, and sunglasses off. There was no need to mask our faces at all.

My brother was waiting for us in Alex's minivan. He was excited to see us and whispered that he was ecstatic that it all worked out.

Him and me both . . . him and me both.

Before we pulled onto the ramp that would lead us to the highway, I waved to the Impala across from us—the one with the two FBI agents sitting in it. They were obviously waiting for us to come back from Bermuda.

They followed us until we reached Brooklyn. As soon as we got to Bay Ridge, they took off again, probably went back to headquarters, and that's when I was finally able to relax.

But not totally.

We dropped Sonny and Maggie off at their house and then drove up the block to our crib.

I didn't say much to Carlisle before he took off for his own house. But before he left, he reminded Bella and Kylie not to say a thing until the house was swept. Our daughter didn't understand, and we had to break some things down for her. Bella did, which…was great because she has a way of saying things that Kylie won't question.

My brother had been watching the house, but Feds are sneaky fucks.

Kylie went straight into her bedroom, said she was going to sleep until tomorrow.

And I practically chased Bella into our room.

"Your hair…" She rubbed the stubble on my head. "It's all gone." She pouted.

I smirked, brushing her hair with my fingers. "Yours is dark."

Bella smiled at me and then her lips touched mine. Our lip-lock was passionate as fuck—tongues tangling, hands roaming, but as soon as my back hit the mattress…I stopped.

My wife was still straddling me. "What's wrong?"

"I'm tired." I swallowed, cupping her breasts.

"I missed you." She lifted my shirt, started kissing my chest, and I wanted to kick my own ass. "You're _that_ tired?" She got the vibe I was sending.

"Just lemme hold you." I wanted nothing more than to have her in my arms. "Just…c'mere." I pulled her down to my side, hugged her tightly once more. "We're home…we can relax."

"Relax." She yawned.

I smiled, staring at that pretty face, and this was my happy place.

At some point in time, my priorities, the shit that got my blood pumping had shifted. In this moment, I was the happiest I'd been in a long time. We were home. We were all exhausted, but we were safe.

Aro thought our travels were boring. Fuck, I thought that, too.

Meanwhile, I believe our lack of adventure had to do with the fact that we had no business carrying the job out ourselves.

Torches are passed for a reason.

We do our time.

We get our kicks.

And when it's no longer fun…

When the thought of the kill is more of a hassle than a thrill…

It's time to accept the inevitable.

That . . . with time comes change.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	43. New Edition

**Stephenie**** Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd**** by ****HollettLA****. **

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Forty-Three: New Edition**

**Damion POV**

**F**or days, I couldn't get ahold of any member of my immediate family. Dad's phone, Mom's phone, the house phone…even Kylie's cell…they all went to voice mail.

Knowing where Sonny was—in the Poconos with Maggie—didn't stop me from calling him, too.

No dice.

He wasn't picking up either.

The only person I could get into contact with was Carlisle—my not-so-favorite uncle.

He assured me that everyone was fine and well. Told me my parents had gone on their vacation, and Kylie was out somewhere with my aunt.

I didn't buy it, not one bit.

Something was off.

The whole ordeal felt wrong.

When Monday night rolled around, I tried calling my parents' house again.

Once more, I received no answer; meanwhile, they should have been home by then. Their plane was supposed to land that morning.

I called my uncle…

He said they were all right. My sister was home, and my parents were more than likely tired from their excursions in Bermuda and ignoring their cells.

With a shift at the hospital Tuesday morning, I was stuck. I couldn't head out to Brooklyn like I'd wanted to.

I had to wait, and when the clock hit six, I practically ran out of the hospital.

"Where are you going?" Jordan was just entering the ladies' locker room while I was leaving the men's.

"Uh…" I pointed down the hall dumbly, stuck for an answer.

Since we've gotten back together, we've been joined at the hip. We work together. We live in the same building, and we have the same days off. We've also spent every meal and night together…for the past six days.

We've only been back on for six days, but once we'd made up, it was like we'd never broken up.

I was going off course at the moment, doing something different from our usual nightly activities.

There'd be no studying and eating Burger King tonight.

And for someone as ballsy as me—for someone who's done some questionable shit in their life—I couldn't lie to Jordan again, not after what'd happened the last time I did.

It'd cost too much if I was caught out there, lying.

I was also scared she'd want to tag along, and…

There was no way I wanted her to associate with any member of my family.

I didn't want her getting too close…to that part of my life.

It's enough…more than enough that she knows who I'm related to and has come to accept it.

But bringing her home…

With the way Mom is…

And the way Dad is…

And if Sonny checks out her rack, I might deck him.

I didn't want her to come with me.

No matter how much has slipped out—no matter how much I've said about my family, I wanted to keep her separate.

Trust me; I only share the "good" things. I only tell her about the happy memories I do have about my family.

"What's wrong?" She stared at me, and the hand went to her hip. Jordan was studying me, trying to grill me—make me crack. It's the same look…the same look I'd get from Dad: the human lie detector.

_Fuck. That's creepy…comparing Jordan to Dad. _

Where'd that come from?

"Nothing," I said. "I think…I-I don't know." Going for nonchalance, I shrugged and leaned back against the wall while an orderly passed between us pushing a stretcher. "I'm not feeling too well."

"You're not getting sick, are you?" Jordan stepped toward me only to hop back.

I almost smirked to myself. "Scared of germs, Doctor?"

She grinned. "You're not sick."

I didn't say anything. I didn't even move.

"You don't look sick." She gasped. "You have a surprise for me? That's it, isn't it? How many times have I told you...? I don't need flowers or fancy restaurants," Jordan giggled, lying through her teeth.

_I've yet to meet a woman who didn't like to be romanced, wined and dined. _

That noble, modest bullshit is exactly that—bullshit.

I pursed my lips, thinking I could easily buy her something on my way back to the dorms. "Well…"

She grabbed my hand. "What's…up? I'm getting this weird…" she grimaced, at a loss for words "—vibe?"

I looked up and down the hall, making sure no one could see us before I pecked her lips. "I haven't heard from my parents. They came back from their trip yesterday, and I just wanna go check on them. I also haven't seen them in a while, so...I'll probably be back—"

"Oh…" She nodded. "Gimme a minute to change—"

I shook my head, jerking a thumb toward the elevator. "_I _should just—"

Her eyes widened. "I know who they are, what they do…What's the big deal?"

I could picture it now: my mother taking Jordan shopping or something, my sister being so fucking intrusive, and, God forbid, anyone bring up Maggie, my past behaviors, or…anything.

"It's not a big deal . . . but I'll probably be back late."

Her brows rose. "What, Amelia might be there or something?"

"No."

"What's the big deal? I met your dad—"

"Hurry up. I'll wait out here for you." I caved, backing down like some pussy.

All of which made Jordan grin and skip into the locker room to get changed.

The way I've spoken about my family…well, they kind of sound normal: the homemaker mother and the father who…brings home the bacon, the ballbusting older brother, and the cute, yet annoying little sister.

It's picturesque—very normal—the way I imagine them and talk about them.

I used to do that shit in high school, thinking that if I thought that way long enough, we'd morph into a TV Family—those fuckers who each week, for thirty minutes, have these perfect home lives.

And every conflict is sorted out in less than an hour . . .

_**/=/=/=/**_

_**A**_fter we left the hospital and before we went down to the subway, I thought about calling my parents again. I chose not to because Jordan was so excited to see the place where I grew up.

Jordan kept talking about my father's occupation, too—about how it more than likely doesn't define him as a person, that he's just a human being, like we are.

It was eye-roll worthy, but I just smiled and agreed with her.

After all, she'd never be privy to certain aspects of the game, the thing. Who knows? To an outsider looking in, my family might just seem normal.

When we left the train, my stomach rolled and knotted up.

Most of all, I was scared that they might not like her?

_Since when do I give a fuck about any of that?_

She's met my parents and my brother, although very briefly, so there's a chance that we could all get to talking and Mom decides she hates Jordan.

_That would suck. _

But only because I'd be torn between two of the most important women in my life.

Then…I berated myself.

Yes, Jordan and I are back on track. Once we were back together, we picked up where we left off, yet Jordan is still adamant about taking things slow.

The past week has felt like a year, so yeah—slow, I guess.

"We're having fun," is how she puts it, but we're together—exclusive, and I know she loves me.

I can feel it.

And I never had that before.

I've had women—a couple…well, two chicks—tell me they love me, but I never felt it in a kiss, in a sweet caress, nor have I felt it during sex. I never saw it in a look, either.

So, we don't_ have_ to say it or validate each other with words.

We just know…

Well, I hope Jordan's as perceptive as I am.

Above all else—what weighs more on my shoulders—is that there's a small chance she might get too close to them.

They'll either hate her, or love her, and I didn't know which would be worse . . . and thinking of the things that can happen to those we're close to.

God forbid she's standing somewhere—at the wrong place or the wrong time, or someone says something she's not to hear.

I'd have no choice but to marry her or take care of her.

And the greatest thing about being with Jordan is that from the get . . . I've had a clean slate.

I've been this average guy, a medical student, and I've never shared or voiced my innermost evil thoughts.

Then again, I like to think that my girlfriend knows me better than anyone—that I'm being the real me when I'm with her.

_But the jury's still out on that._

These days, I'm chill…average; meanwhile, I keep waiting for that one thing…something that'll make me crack.

And I didn't want Jordan to get a glimpse or know of that person—who I used to be or who I am.

_**/=/=/=/**_

_**J**_ordan quickly ran ahead of me and up the subway steps when we got off the train. I trailed behind but enjoyed her wide eyes as she took in her surroundings. I guess Fourth Avenue is a sight to those who've never seen it.

Once I caught up to her, she frowned. "It kind of looks like the Village."

I nodded. "With all the stores…sure. My parents' house is this way." I grasped her hand, pulling her toward the corner while my eyes scanned the area.

She knew we'd have to walk a few blocks, and then she'll see—how a gritty avenue filled with shops and people can be mere streets from some of the most expensive homes in New York City—the contrast that is Bay Ridge.

The walk down to Shore Road was a quiet one. Jordan took everything in with her new eyes, marveling at how when we reached each avenue, it was different from the last.

We passed Fort Hamilton High School, the park, and even my uncle's house.

Carlisle's car wasn't in the driveway, so I didn't bother stopping there. We saw the same when we passed Sonny's house. It was dark, no lights were on, and his whip was also missing.

And that's because both of their cars were parked outside of my parents' house.

Disappointment filled me at the realization, seeing their cars lining the curb.

They were obviously having a family dinner without me.

No one had called; no one had sent me a text message.

They know I'm unavailable weekday-evenings, but they could have called, right?

"What's the matter?" Jordan stopped to stare at the house with me. "Is this it?"

I nodded and pointed to my childhood home. "Guess they forgot to—" I cut myself off to smile down at her. "I guess you'll get to meet everyone."

"Oh." She grinned, grasping my hand tightly. "Let's go." Jordan remained enthusiastic as we strode up the walkway.

Me? Not so much, but I dug my keys out of my pocket. Or, maybe I should knock, ring the doorbell since it seemed I was now considered a guest—someone who needed to be invited.

"Hang on." She placed her hand on mine and blew out a large breath. "I'm nervous now. It, like, just hit me. Your father's Edward-fucking-Cullen! Holy shit!" She held her forehead.

Sadly, I didn't know what to say that would ease her anxiety. Inside, I was kind of pissed, wanted to have a word or two with my parents.

This evening won't be as ideal as Jordan thought.

"They'll love you," I said.

"You have nothing to be nervous about," I said.

But as my blood boiled, I became cold—couldn't look at Jordan because I wanted to make believe she wasn't here.

"Damion?" She palmed my cheek, turning me to face her. "What's—"

"Hey!" Kylie shouted, whipping the door open.

We broke apart, our eyes landing on my sister.

"This must be Jordan?" Kylie pointed, her smile fading. "Dame…?"

I cleared my throat to smile. "Yeah…this is Jordan." I placed my hand on her back to usher her inside ahead of me.

"Wow!" Kylie hugged a surprised Jordan while I looked for my parents.

"Where's Mom and Dad?" I asked, entering the foyer.

"At the table. We just sat down to dinner." Kylie opened her arms for me.

I embraced her, confused as ever.

"God…I missed you," Kylie whispered, rubbing my back, and it sounded like she was crying.

When I pulled away, I studied her expression. "What's going on?"

She sniffled and giggled. "Nothing…just a long, long week." Kylie wiped under her eyes.

I furrowed my brow, stepping back. "Right."

It wasn't the first time I'd felt like a stranger in what I'm to consider home. But after the past six months and all the progress I'd made with Dad—all the progress I'd made myself—it felt like a low blow, an unexpected kick to the gut.

After Kylie took our coats—again, with the feeling like an actual visitor—I sought my parents who were just sitting down to dinner. My whole family sat at that table, Chinese food cartons littered about, laughter to be heard a room away.

Even little Eddie and the twins were here along with Anthony. My gaze lingered on my cousin first, as we've yet to mend fences completely, but then I was brought back to the present when Jordan squeezed my hand.

"Dame!" My father rose to greet me, wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. Mom got in on that one and squeezed me, this awkward family hug. Unfortunately, my hand was knocked out of Jordan's. "We missed you, kid!" Dad kissed my cheek while Mom got the other one.

It made me smile, but I had loads of questions.

"You brought Jordan." Mom beamed, zeroing in on her.

"Uh…yeah." I glanced at everyone at the table. "This is Jordan…Jordan…that's everyone."

She waved with her cheeks on fire as they all acknowledged her.

"Welcome," Mom said, placing her arm over Jordan's shoulders. "I've been dying to meet you."

"Likewise." Jordan smiled. "You have such a lovely home."

"Thank you." Mom almost squealed, but you could have heard a pin drop. The silence was almost deafening. The situation was crazy awkward because…again…my family wasn't being themselves.

It's as if they all have an on/off switch whenever an outsider intrudes. They're all their best representatives instead of being themselves, which is something to be grateful for.

They'll turn into The Waltons while Jordan's here.

_Thank God. _

"Come on…sit." Mom pulled out a chair. "Jordan, you sit near me so we can talk."

"Great." Jordan sat where Mom instructed, and I stood there, expectant.

I needed to speak with my father. "Dad, can we…talk a minute?" I kept my tone hushed when I really felt like screaming.

Whatever was going on, I was left in the dark.

"What's up?" He had a mouth full of Lo Mein already.

"Nothing." With my stomach in a knot, I feigned nonchalance and sat between Dad and Sonny. That's when I noticed my father's head. The man was almost bald. "Nice...haircut," I mumbled.

"I look young, right?" Dad laughed.

"Like a teenager," I lied.

"Fucking liar," he commented.

"What's up, man?" Sonny patted my back.

"How are you?" Maggie leaned over him to ask that.

I didn't look at my brother's wife, a habit I'd picked up ever since I started counseling Sonny with his coke habit. "I'm great…how was the Poconos?"

"Oh…you know. It was good." Maggie had never been a good liar.

"Why the change of heart?" Sonny whispered. "I thought you didn't—"

"I didn't have a choice," I muttered, throwing Ant a chin jerk. "She wanted to come." He knew I'd wanted to keep Jordan and the family separated for as long as I could get away with.

Anthony's brows rose in acknowledgement while he piled white rice onto his plate, but he didn't say anything.

"You're in medical school, too?" Kylie shouted across the table.

"Yes…I work with Damion every day."

"That must be convenient." Kylie snorted.

"What do you mean?" Jordan asked but her attention went back to Mom when she started talking.

I leaned back in the chair, staring at the empty plate in front of me, and I waited for conversations to continue.

But the only people talking were Mom and Jordan, and that wasn't awkward at all.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**B**_y the time dessert was served, I was aching for answers. I even resorted to giving my father off glances, hoping he'd leave the table so I could follow. He never did. Dad actually did his best to look in the opposite direction whenever I stared at him.

Meanwhile, Sonny wanted to talk to me. We excused ourselves, and maybe I was a shitty boyfriend, but I didn't bother to see if Jordan was okay. She was doing just fine—chatting my mother up. It seemed like Mom adored her, and Jordan even helped Maggie serve coffee.

"Let's go outside." Sonny stomped down the stairs while I trailed after him and out of the house.

Once in the backyard, I was fast to light a cigarette and give Sonny one—since he never has any. "What's up?" I asked, blowing my smoke out and taking a seat; Sonny did the same, keeping his other hand in his pocket.

"It's fucking brick." He shivered.

I chuckled as a random thought came to mind. "The water is freezing and there aren't enough boats—not enough by half."

Sonny snorted. "Titanic."

I poked my nose and nodded.

The air _was_ freezing and it was dark, but we sat on the patio furniture.

"Remember doing that? Quoting movies and shit…" He trailed off with a sigh, looking up to the few stars that were out.

"You okay?" I hit his shoulder. "How's…you know."

"Eh…I'm all right." He shrugged. "I haven't been back to work yet." Suddenly, his whole face lit up. "Me and Maggie, man. We've been in our own little world…just keeping to ourselves. It's been amazing—"

"You haven't tried to take any more swings at her?" I laughed, even though I shouldn't joke about that…yet, I guess.

Sonny furrowed his brow, his lips drawing a tight line.

"Too soon?" I asked.

"Just a bit." He flicked his cigarette across the yard.

I raised a brow, wanting to salute him. If he didn't have his head, he would have taken a swing at _me_ for that remark. "Good for you…staying away from that shit."

He nodded, and he was being too quiet for me. Normally, I can't wait for people to shut the fuck up. But everyone—for whatever reason—had their lips sealed.

"What's going on?" I nearly shouted. "You're all being…I don't know. What'd'ju wanna talk to me about?"

"Oh…" He sounded surprised. "I wanted to ask you how Amelia got Maggie's number?"

My eyes widened as I had no idea. "I don't know."

"Only a few have it…and I've only just recently given it to you." He stared at me.

I shook my head. "Is she calling Maggie? Why?"

"Not recently…That night, the night of Gramps' party? Remember?"

"Yeah…" I waited for him to continue.

"Maggie told me some chick had called her phone. But they'd called days before that, so it was around three weeks ago. Amelia called Maggie saying some shit, and I'm telling you now, bro…You need to do something. She's got connections, too. And why is she getting in my business, trying to fuck my shit up? If her problem's with you…then you need to handle that." He ranted.

"Whoa…" I honestly had no idea why she'd call Maggie. "What'd she say to Maggie? I don't—"

"She basically pretended I was fucking her, said I'd stood her up. Amelia called Maggie's cell looking for me. Why would she do that?"

I shrugged.

"What's that?" He mimicked me, shrugging. "That was _your_ girl."

I pushed my hair back. "How do you know it was—"

"Seriously? You're going to ask me that?" he laughed. "I have my ways. Maybe it was on the back burner while shit was already hot—maybe my head's been this way or that way—but I'm still taking care of business."

I put my palms up. "Never doubted you for a minute."

"Do I have to sit down with Luke?"

"Sonny, Amelia…she's not my girl anymore, and I don't know why she'd…do what she did." I didn't know what else to tell him.

"Well, then you better call Amelia—"

"No!" I stood up, started to pace. "I'm not opening that can of worms again. Just change Maggie's number, keep her informed, and let her know—"

"Her number's changed," he said, the picture of calm. "But you have loose ties that need to be tightened. With all the shit I gotta worry about, I have to worry about your old bitch, too? Come on, bro."

I nodded. "I'll—I'll take care of it." My brother was right. While I had no clue…well, I kind of did. If I had to guess, Amelia still blames Maggie for my…whatever-the-fuck, losing interest. But looking back, gaining six million was what had made Amelia all the more attractive in my eyes.

And now…I had Jordan, blind as a bat—metaphorically—Jordan.

I had to confront Amelia, but...

"If I step foot in Jersey—"

"You could be killed," Sonny said. "That's the bed you made, but you're better off just trying to talk to her on the phone. Don't go out there. Dad's been doing his best—"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Sonny laughed some more. "He put a stop to any business dealings those from Jersey have in…your area."

"He did that for me?" I was surprised. Son or not, my father's likely losing money. "Luke's cool with that?"

Sonny scratched his forehead. "I didn't exactly give him a choice."

"You…?"

"Yeah—" he nodded "—me."

I blew out a breath. "I'll…" Calling Amelia was the last thing I wanted to do in the world. "Dude, she's not crazy-crazy. She hasn't done anything, nor has she tried to contact Maggie again, has she?"

"That's not my point. If she goes psycho bitch, the result…? Endgame? Come on, Dame, think." He poked his temple.

"It'd start a war…another war," I whispered.

"She does some stupid shit…I won't hold back." He spat at me. "I'd chop off that cunt's head and leave it on Luke's porch, if she steps to Maggie—does some wild shit." Sonny meant every word. "Then they strike back…You feel me? She started it…just by calling, and you need to finish it."

I leaned down to whisper in his ear, "You want me to kill her?"

"No!" He pushed me. "What the fuck?" Sonny stood up to face me. "The objective is to avoid conflict. Find out what her deal is…talk to her first."

"Okay," I agreed.

"I'm not going to the mattresses for some heartbroken lunatic. That's not an option."

"What's Dad say?" I zipped up my jacket, seconds away from shaking, and it wasn't because of Amelia. We're halfway through March and it's still cold as fuck.

Sonny shook his head. "I haven't brought it to his attention just yet. In hindsight, Amelia didn't do anything…besides try and fuck with my marriage. So, technically, it's my problem, but it's truly _your_ problem. You handle it before I do."

"Okay." I nodded as Sonny headed back toward the house, but I stopped him. "What happened this week—"

"Nothing." That came out a little too quick.

"Where were you really?"

"The Poconos." He stared into my eyes, seemingly telling the truth. "You want trip confirmation—what?"

"No," I whispered. "I'm just wondering why I've been kept in the dark—"

He guffawed. "Most weeks, you don't even call Mom or Dad. They have to ring you, but now you give a fuck?"

"Hey, I always—"

"You don't." His voice took on a somber tone. "And you helping me? It's appreciated, but don't think I don't know that you were only around for Maggie's sake."

"It's not like that." I chuckled nervously.

"I know…but you do care about her…You care enough that you watched me like a hawk. So, thank you. No matter your intentions, you still showed up—were there for Maggie and me." He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly. "Thank you."

Surprised, I patted his back. "You're welcome."

"But…you missing Mom and Dad?" He pulled away. "They were in Bermuda five days."

"They really went to Bermuda?" I hedged.

"Yes!" Now he sounded exasperated.

"All right," I sighed, following him back into the house.

"And handle that, Dame—that shit?" He glanced at me from over his shoulder.

"I will." I didn't know how, but I had to. "Wait…" I actually pulled on his hand, something I used to do when I was eight.

He stopped walking up the stairs.

"Why not just tell Dad?" I kept my tone hushed. "He'll take care of it—"

Sonny groaned, placing his hand on my shoulder. "You want me and Dad cleaning your messes forever? Don't get me wrong. I owe you a big one for last week…well, no. Last week might just make us square…My point is…how many jams are we gonna help you out of this year?"

I didn't reply as I had nothing to say.

My brother was correct, and I could recite a litany of names…those who'd died because of all my mistakes this past year.

Some I had conflicts with. Some had to die to cover up the other ones…

And now because of my change of heart, because I jilted the Princess of New Jersey, there could be a lot more casualties.

Sonny's words hit below the belt, felt like another kick to the gut, but he was right and what he said was true.

No matter how dumb I found it, I had to clean up my mess, talk to Amelia and see where her head's at. She could do something stupid—all because she's hurt—that could start a war.

_**/=/=/=/**_

_**M**_y uncle, Alex, Anthony, and the twins left with barely a goodbye to me. Anthony never gave me a second look. It's not that I thought he'd forgive me quickly, but if Carlisle, and even Alex, can talk to me and be civil after what I did, why couldn't Anthony? But that was just another thought for the ever-growing pile in my brain.

By the time I met up with Jordan again, my mind still wandered. She was busy looking at old family albums with my mother—which is such a clichéd thing to do—but I left them to it.

Then I actually drifted into the kitchen to catch up with Dad and Sonny, but I only found Maggie and Kylie.

"Where's Dad?" I asked.

Kylie smirked at me. _"Will you leave him out of this? He's suffered enough, already. The man hasn't been able to digest a decent meal in six weeks!"_

"_GoodFellas_." Maggie rolled her eyes, loading the dishwasher. "You stay on one movie forever."

I smiled—just for a second—because they briefly reminded me of Sonny and me. Actually, it's something we all do, or have done. "You've seen that?" I asked Maggie.

She pointed to my sister. "She made me sit and watch it."

I put my hands up.

"What…? You think I sit at home watching _Touched By An Angel_ or _Passion of the Christ_?" Maggie raised a brow.

I chuckled despite myself. "Where's Sonny?"

"In Dad's office...obviously with Dad." Kylie pointed down the hallway.

I looked on Jordan for a quick second before heading down the hall. Again, she was fine—winked at me when she saw me.

When I approached my father's office, I stopped to listen, hearing whispers that weren't so hushed.

"I told you I took care of it," Sonny said.

"That quick, though?" Dad laughed. "He's so old—"

"You should give him more credit…And you recorded the six o'clock news like I said?" my brother asked.

"Yeah…I did," my father replied while I heard a television zap on. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this shit." He continued to grumble under his breath.

"You know…he's old school, likes a show . . . Forward it. I was told it's toward the end." After hearing Sonny say that, I knocked.

"Come in," Dad instructed.

Doing as he said, I waltzed into the room—my eyes glued to the small plasma in the corner. "What are we watching?"

Dad and Sonny exchanged a look before my brother answered me, "Current events."

"Oh." I leaned my ass back on Dad's desk while he fast-forwarded through a news broadcast, and then he hit pause.

"You need money or something?" he asked me.

"No," I said.

Dad put the remote down. "It's great to see you…I definitely didn't expect homegirl to come with you."

I pointed to his head. "I didn't expect to find you…bald."

"It's growing back." He rubbed his head.

I nodded, curious, at a loss as to what I should or could say. "I just—"

"You sure you don't need money?" Dad asked once more while he dug a few bills from his pocket. "Take some anyway."

"Thanks." I took it since…these days I don't have a side-job. "How are you?"

My father stared at me, rocking back on his heels. "Great…Bermuda was awesome."

"You don't have a tan," I commented.

He winked. "You wanna list of what Mom and I did?"

Sonny started cackling, and I put a hand up to stop Dad while he was ahead.

"I bet youse never left the room," Sonny said.

"It's possible." Dad shrugged, face smug.

I kept my mouth shut and took a seat on his couch. "So…what's going on in the world?"

Looking toward the TV, Dad took his cue and hit play. "I have no idea. Your mother and I," he sighed, "we had a good trip."

"Maggie and me, too."

The news played in the background when I contributed to the conversation. "Jordan and I are obviously back together."

"It is…obvious." My father smiled. "Glad you two could work it out—hang on." He leaned toward the television and turned up the volume.

It wasn't world news or anything of importance. A reporter stood near fire trucks and other official vehicles while a fire seemed to be dying down behind her.

"_Good evening. This is Alana Miller, coming to you live from Middletown, New York where a gas explosion has taken at least two lives. The historic building you see in embers behind me was once the home believed to belong to the first settlers of this community. For the past twenty years, it's served as a local hotspot—The Switch Inn." _

"Middletown?" I asked.

Dad threw his head back and laughed.

"_The bodies have yet to be identified, although they're believed to be Alistair Finnegan, a lifelong resident of the city of Middletown, and Omar __Lelack__ of __Dutchess__ County—"_ Dad turned off the television.

"Told you," Sonny said.

I was lost. "What?"

Dad placed two more hundred-dollar bills into my hand. "Here…have some more money." He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Thanks." I pocketed it and looked to Sonny, and he was studying his cell phone. More important than some fire out in the boonies, I worried about Jordan and me getting back to the dorms.

After what Sonny said…

I've never been one to fear for my own life, but Jordan's wasn't something I was playing with.

"Can you get someone to give us a lift back…?" I asked.

Dad nodded, smiling widely.

Then a thought popped into my head as I turned in a circle. "Where's Grandpa?"

My father and brother started cracking up again.

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts. **_


	44. Nothing

**Stephenie**** Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. ****Beta'd**** by ****HollettLA****. **

**PLEASE READ: BESIDES THIS EDWARD POV, WE'RE ABOUT TO DIVE INTO A DAME/SONNY ARC, SO THE CHAPTERS WILL BE ABOUT THEM AND IN THEIR POVs. I KNOW MOST YOU WILL BITCH, SAY YOU MISS SKIP AND BEBELLA, and their smutt. **

**BUT I PROMISE TO DELIVER THEM TO YOU SPADES! ALSO, I'VE SLOWED THE STORY DOWN, BECAUSE ALL I TRULY HAVE TO DO IS TIE LOOSE ENDS AND...THAT'LL BE THE END. SO...I SLOWED THE STORY DOWN, ALTHOUGH TIME WILL PASS BY WITH EACH CHAPTER. **

**LIKE THIS CHAPTER . . .**

**Two months pass between chapters 43 and 44—time moves ****forward****. And then about a month will pass between chapter 46 and 47.**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Forty-Four: Nothing**

**Edward POV**

_**I**_t was the middle of May when the weather started to warm, my hair was finally back to its normal disarray, and I was finally going to go back to _work_ full-time. For the past six weeks, I've been laying low—conducting my business and giving orders through Sonny.

Speaking of my eldest, he's staying away from the garbage. He and Maggie seem happy again, and I'm glad for that—thank God for that. He's doing well, and I see him practically every day.

Despite our weekly calls, Damion hasn't come back around since that one night when he brought Jordan over. We're still close—talk on the phone, and he meets with his brother for lunch sometimes.

But once again, Bella was starting to stress over his absence; she misses him, which is understandable.

The kid has always—since he's been an adult—kept to himself unless something was wrong. When all that shit was going down with him, he was always here. He may not know it, but when _he's_ stressed…

Damion runs home to Mommy and Daddy for this or that reason, always finding issues as to why he has to be here, whether he realizes it or not.

And as I've always said, "No news is good news."

Damion is fine.

Kylie spent last night at Aro's, as much as that nearly killed me; however, Peto's back from Texas for good.

She'd actually gone to visit him during spring break for a week. We let her go, which took a lot of faith and trust on my part. Bella's proud of me, and our daughter had left for Austin as quickly as we'd all come back from our excursion two months ago.

But now her love is home, and he's taking up most of her time. I'm sure they'll be joined at the hip through the summer, and then they'll all be going to NYU in the fall.

They can do what they want at Aro's, but that kid's not sleeping here—he's not going to fuck my baby girl in my fucking house.

And what I don't know won't give me a fucking stroke.

After showering and brushing my teeth, I pushed my wet hair back, and then I was ready to get dressed and start my day.

Just because I've been home doesn't mean I changed my schedule. I was _just_ getting up at noon, and everything was business as usual.

Bella had woken me up briefly to say she was going somewhere with Maggie, and I quickly fell back to sleep, and I have no idea what time that was. But it was early.

Meanwhile, I'd just fastened the last button on my shirt when I heard my wife enter our home.

Instantly happy, and like the good mutt I am, I walked out into the hall to greet her. Bella's hands were full of shopping bags, and she had some sweat dewing on her forehead.

"Hot out?" I asked, helping to empty her hands.

She blew out a breath. "It's like eighty-something degrees." Our thermostat is always set at sixty-five, whether the heat has to go on or the A/C, so I didn't feel a thing. "And I thought I needed a sweater." She rapidly peeled off the purple cardigan, revealing nothing but her bra.

"You went out like that?" It just seemed odd, her leaving the house without a shirt under her sweater . . . although I dug the view, her skin visibly slick between her tits.

"I was in a rush. What…?" She sat on the chaise lounge with a huff, and her pout made me smirk down to her cute ass.

"Nothing," I said.

My intense stare turned her frown upside down. "What's up?" She grinned.

I shook my head and reached for her hand. "Seriously…nothing." I gathered her into my arms. "I've had fun…being home with you." I started to sway us from side to side, getting two handfuls of ass.

"I know," she sighed, placing her arms around my neck. "I wish—"

I cut her off with my lips because I didn't want to hear it.

Her words—and with the way I've been feeling these days—would sound too tempting.

I _would _stay home just a little bit longer_ if_ she'd asked.

_How things have changed . . . _

But I know that as soon as I get out there, sit amongst my people again, I'll feel whole—100%, yet in a different way than when I'm with Bella. It's hard to explain.

When I'm with my wife, nothing is missing, but…it's like being between a rock and hard place…torn between two things I love: Bella and work.

It seemed as though I was born to love Bella while I was also born to be _who_ I am.

She's asked me to choose in the past. I never had a choice—not when she was around to ask.

Now…?

I could step back if I want to, but I don't know if I want to.

Logically, there's only a couple of ways my stint will end—death, a long-ass bid, or early retirement—I stop while I'm ahead, leave on a good note.

The latter sounds ideal. I just don't know if I'm ready.

Spending almost every moment with Bella has done wonders for our marriage. I even feel younger, lighter in some way. And even though being with her brings me more joy than anything else in this world, I have this nagging ache—this boredom, having idle hands, staying still and in one place.

It's the itch…

There's a lot more than drugs one can be addicted to.

"I love you," I whispered against her lips.

She smiled wide, keeping her eyes closed. "I love you, too."

My nose touched hers, angling her mouth up to mine again. "Wait up for me."

"I will." Suddenly, her face fell. "You're not coming home—you won't be here for dinner or to see Sonny and Maggie off?" she spluttered, surprise in her eyes.

"I—" I slightly shook my head. "Sonny's waiting at Eclipse for me…We have—"

"No . . ." She took a step back to giggle and grab her sweater. "Kylie should be home soon, and so should Maggie. I dropped them off at the salon. The limo will be here at—"

I chuckled. "The prom, right." I winced, feeling sorry for Sonny now. "They won't kick him out? For being old, I mean?"

"Old? Sonny could pass for a teenager."

"No, he couldn't." And I couldn't believe my wife thought that. "He's mad tall, like me, as wide as a fucking door. Solid muscle! You can tell he's a grown-ass man." Sonny's a monster of a dude. Anyone who messes with my bruiser is a fool…

"He's always been in good shape, and he has no wrinkles." She waggled her finger.

"Bella, he looks like an adult, will more than likely be mistaken for a teacher." I cringed, sticking out my tongue. "Fucking Maggie looks like she's thirteen, unless she's showing off that body…People are gonna think he's a pedophile!"

"No! No, they won't! As handsome as Sonny is? Are you kidding?" She playfully slapped my bicep. "All people will see is them—the beautiful couple they are." She sounded wistful. "It's…not the most usual of circumstances, but Sonny is Maggie's husband. So…no. They won't get kicked outta the prom." Her face blazed red, and she covered her mouth.

"What?" I asked.

It was her turn to act modest and say, "Nothing."

"All right." My gut told me she had a secret, but I was still lighthearted. "Everything's okay?"

Bella flashed me a toothy grin, grabbing for my sleeve. "I don't want to jinx anything."

I rolled my eyes. "Because everything feels normal—perfect again?"

She swallowed, her eyes falling to our feet. "It's the quiet before—"

"Baby—" I held her tightly "—there's no storm this time." Searching her eyes, I saw the fear that hid under the happiness that shined, that lit up her beautiful face. When the tears—good or bad—threatened to spill, I silenced her once more with a kiss. "If there was anything—any-fucking-thing—you'd know. You and Kylie would be on the lam."

"I know." She sniffled and started to laugh. "I'm just used to waiting for the other shoe to drop—"

"Not this time." And I was going to go through hell or high water to make my words true. "The weather is getting nicer. Everyone is chill…Even I feel happier, but that doesn't make everything perfect, nor does it mean impending doom." I widened my eyes. "Okay?" I kissed that nose before I bit it.

She hugged me, resting her head on my chest. "Aro's been outside since I got home—said he's here to pick you up." And I thought that motherfucker was running late.

I pulled away to look down at her.

She shrugged. "I wanted a few more minutes with you . . . sue me. He'll wait."

I kissed her forehead, pulling the sweater tighter around her torso, thankful no one could see inside our home. Usually, I'd comment about her lack of blouse. But as I get older, and days pass, I realize that a lot of shit just doesn't fucking matter—not in comparison to the bigger picture, or what we _could_ fight about. "Lemme go get my jacket."

"Edward?" she called.

Steps away from our bedroom, I turned back to her. "Yeah?"

"Nothing." She waved a hand. "I love you."

I winked. "Stars in the sky, baby."

Bella gave me the widest smile I'd ever seen before she ran toward me—nearly knocked me on my ass. "I think I love you more." She bit my bottom lip. "How is that possible?" She held me so tight. "It's like—the past month or so—since we've been back…we've finally been able to be you and me? Does that sound crazy? I've always loved you…I've always loved you more than my mind and heart could process. But now it's even more? Crazy, right?"

"No," I said, agreeing with every word she'd said, because I felt that way as well. "You're right. Just us…with a little Kylie, Sonny, and Maggie mixed in." I chuckled, rubbing her back. "The only time we're truly alone is at night…in bed." I pinched her ass.

"You're my pervert."

"I am," I agreed. "And you're mine."

"You love it."

"I do." I looked down to kiss her closed lids, her nose, and her lips once more.

"I miss Damion," she whispered. "I know he's happy, keeping to himself…but I feel like he hates us." Her lip quivered, and I stilled it with my knuckle.

"Stop it. You know that's not true." But sometimes, I don't even know, and I promised myself I'd stop trying to figure the kid out. He's who he is, like me, yet unreachable, even to his mother, which I _don't_ understand.

I try to do my best by Dame by giving him what he wants or needs.

He checks in, we talk on the phone, and he's always texting Bella. "Call him. Tell him to get his ass here tonight," I said, letting go to get my jacket. "If you _tell_ him to be here, he'll show up."

And if he doesn't come through for Bella, I'll just have to go pick his ass up.

I've done that before.

"I did…since I invited everyone over for dinner." She pursed her lips. "You and Aro obviously can't make it…whatever. Unless…you guys _can_ make it? Lisa says she has to work late, but Peto will be here with Kylie."

I smiled. "You're pushing it."

Maybe I was insensitive, but I could give a rat's ass about a prom. I'd never been to my own, but I've lived through two proms—Sonny's, when he was seventeen, and Kylie's just last-fucking-year.

"What else are you doing that's so important today? Especially if Dame might be here…?"

Damion never went to his prom, but regardless of how many we've experienced, I still had no idea why it was a cause to celebrate for Bella.

"I'll see what's up," I promised.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**A**_ro had stopped for coffee, had a venti waiting for me when I entered his whip. "It's probably cold now."

I didn't give a fuck and took a sip. "Feds follow you here?"

"Yup." He let out a breath, pulling away from the curb. "When we hit the avenue, we'll see them."

"Good." I nodded, thinking it better they follow me than Sonny, who they've started clocking.

They're just keeping an eye out, especially since it's been so fucking quiet.

We haven't heard a peep about what happened in Nevada—nothing. I was never called in for questioning. No one ever contested Bella and me being in Bermuda.

Since I've been lying low, they're on Aro's ass, Sonny's too.

It's a bullshit move on my part—not one I'm happy about—but I had to be in the spotlight, so Sonny and Aro could carry on, meet and do what they have to.

I'll sit at Eclipse today. I'll have a few drinks, chill with some I haven't seen in a while. I might have a sit-down or two with those who won't speak to Sonny or Aro...

Instead of running the show, I was more of a front—a ruse.

A _fugazi_ king in place, so my knights and bishops could move around the board.

One fact remains true, though.

I am king…until I say otherwise.

My pawns don't make a move unless I say, although the less I know, the better.

It's a sharp, double-edged sword, but one I'm used to having hang over my head.

It's a way of life, my life, and it's the way it is because I made it that way.

And I don't crack under pressure, so I'm glad to take the heat.

"Have you or Carlisle heard from my father?" I couldn't help myself and laughed.

After hearing about that dude with the busted teeth, what-the-fuck, Alistair-whoever—I wanted to pop him myself. It'd be no big thing, just an hour's drive out of Manhattan, would take ten minutes at best.

The story is still hazy—half-assed, as I still to this day have no idea if Bella's suspicions were true—but baby girl was scared and I trust Bella's instincts.

And once upon a time, he did fuck my wife . . .

It was a no-brainer. That fucko had to go, only I couldn't do anything—not yet, not until some time had passed and the Feds moved on.

Sonny was right in suggesting my father make it look like an accident; he's been bored as fuck being back in New York, antsy, and my son suggested we put him to work.

Ed Sr. knew what he was doing when he lit that fire, too.

The Middletown Fire Marshall ruled it a gas leak—not arson. But Dad's paranoid for some reason. He hasn't come back to Brooklyn since.

The last thing I heard was something about hookers, ecstasy, and Atlantic City.

_And I worry about Kylie . . ._

"C says he's coming home tomorrow—taking a bus or something."

"Oh." I nodded. "If I get as old as him…"

When I started to laugh, Aro joined me.

"Hey, I hear you…already know what you're gonna say." He turned onto the highway.

"Yup." By the time I'm my father's age—if I get up there—everything in my present might be slightly behind me, like it is for him. I'd travel the world with Bella. We'd drink ourselves silly every night, and I'd pop Viagra and any other fucking thing I had to rock her pussy nightly.

When you're as old as Moses, what have you got to lose?

"Hopefully, I'll be a grandfather or something."

"You will," Aro sighed, smiling brightly and giving me some weird look.

I stared at my best friend.

"I'm just saying…twenty-five years from now?" He glanced at me again. "Relax, and no. I wasn't spying by my son's bedroom."

"Yo, I didn't even ask you that," I said.

"You were thinking it." He nodded.

"No, I wasn't," I argued, about to scold him. "Pervert—thinking about that. The-the babies being in the room—"

Aro barked out a laugh. "They're nineteen, not babies anymore, Skip."

I hated his words, no matter how true they were. "Shut up." I wasn't about to agree. "_They're_ babies…_We're_ old. You know what I mean."

"Nah…I do." He didn't say anything else.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**B**_eing that it was so early in the day, Eclipse was empty, save for the few from Sonny's crew and the employees milling about and getting the club ready for tonight.

Eclipse runs itself.

I don't know why my son bitches on occasion. After all, I was him a short time ago—running in and out of the clubs—doing my thing.

And just to be a dick, I placed a bet with one of my son's bookies. It's baseball season, and the first subway series is set for this weekend. I put my money on the Yankees; the Mets suck, so I was sure I'd win my cash back and then some.

If I lose, I'd like to see Adriano come to collect.

He'd never have the audacity to come at me with his hand out; I'd bust_ his_ fucking kneecaps.

But he's Sonny's new right hand, and I wanted to fuck with him.

Adriano also said that Sonny was in the office, but the door was locked.

Finding that odd, I exchanged a look with Aro and dug my key out of my pocket. I don't know what I expected to find—sneaking up on Sonny—but my eldest was sprawled out on the pullout couch, asleep and dressed in a suit.

When did he get here? An hour or two ago? And he's already taking a nap?

"How cute…" Aro crooned, lightly pinching his cheek.

"Yeah, he works so hard." My tone was sarcastic as I sat at the desk. "I should take a picture and send it to Bella."

Pursing my lips, I did just that—making sure I stayed nice and quiet to capture the moment—since my wife thinks I work this poor kid to death.

When Sonny's cell actually dinged with a text, he jumped with a start, sucking the drool back into his mouth. "What-what's up?" he asked, looking from Aro to me.

I shook my head. "What's up with you?"

He sat up with a light groan, pushing his hair back. "Nothing…" He yawned.

"You went to the brokerage? Midnight Sun?" I asked.

He nodded. "Ant's at the brokerage—that's all squared away. What was I supposed to do at Midnight Sun?"

I shrugged. "Don't you go there every day? Check it out?"

"Not every day…Oh! Jasper requested a sit-down."

"What for?" Aro and I asked in unison.

"What's he want?" I jerked my chin.

Sonny leaned away and stretched, his back making a cracking sound. "That feels awesome."

I threw a paperclip at his ass.

Sonny caught it. "No clue…he wouldn't talk to me."

I nodded. "Call him. Tell him to come here tonight."

"He won't . . . asked that you make an appearance at Midnight Sun." Sonny's words made me laugh. "I know. I told him…he had to come here, but then it's like a fucking pissing contest. Fucking Jasper."

"My cousin has that…inflated sense of entitlement…kind of like you." I smiled and pointed to my son.

My eldest had no reply but looked to Aro. "You deal with it. I don't need his shit. I pick up your money every week—" he looked to me "—and that's it. Jasper's problem's'not my problem."

"I'm making it your problem," I said.

Sonny widened his arms. "What the fuck?"

"You got time to nap, you got time to go to Midnight Sun."

"Today?" he asked.

I waved a hand. "Or, after you tell Maggie a bedtime story."

"I have reservations…This means the world to Mag, and prom night lasts _all _night!" Sonny exclaimed.

"It does?" I guffawed.

He shook his head while Aro and I continued to chuckle. "Youse are just dicking my balls."

I grabbed the bottle of Jack out of the drawer to pour myself a drink. "Yeah," I admitted, taking a sip. "Jasper wants something—whether it's info or whatever—bad enough, he'll show up tonight." I had a gut feeling my cousin was just upset about being kept in the dark…regarding a lot of things as of late.

We haven't spoken since before I went out to Nevada, and I've obviously been off-limits. "Don't worry about it," I told him, although it'd be best to get the rulers out from jump—if Jasper has problems taking lip from Sonny—I could settle it before any wild shit happens. I don't know, nor did I truly care.

When the torch is passed it _will_ be Sonny's problem, though.

My cousin will never hit the big time like my Santino. He hasn't earned it either, but he thinks what he thinks—that he should get this or that—when he deserves nothing.

A Cullen will carry the reins after I'm through with them.

Like Caius, I've always kept an eye on Jasper, too.

_Just in case shit… _

"So…" I trailed off, my eyes going from Sonny to Aro. I'm here no less than twenty minutes, and I'm ready for a fucking nap—tell Sonny to move over. "Things are slow—quiet."

"Don't jinx it." Like Bella, Aro knocked on the wooden desk.

Sonny made a face, like my words weren't true. "We might get a small squall from the west."

I raised a brow. "Jersey or Philly?"

"Philly would be south…" Aro said.

"Yeah," Sonny agreed. "If I said south…that would indicate Philadelphia—"

"Fucking spit it out. I don't give a fuck about geography!" I almost shouted. "Southwest. What the fuck? You want coordinates, too?"

It was their turn to chuckle at me.

I gave them the finger. "What's going on?"

"I don't know yet." Sonny stared at me. "I honestly don't know…I spoke to Dame about something—"

"Whoa!" I put my hand up to stop him.

Sonny spoke over my protest, kept going. "It's old business, nothing new. His hands are clean."

I made to settle down while my mind still ran away from me. "Then, what?"

"Amelia?" He smirked. "I told Dame weeks ago to…extend a tree branch—"

"Olive branch," Aro muttered; we ignored him.

"But he hasn't done anything!" Sonny laughed, despite looking frustrated.

"Uh…" I still didn't understand.

"And now…Jasper tells me Shorty was at Midnight Sun with a group of friends."

Confused, I tilted my head to stare at him. "Anyone who lives in New York City knows not to go clubbing on a Saturday because of the bridge and tunnel crowd—if I'm being elitist about it," I laughed.

"Elitist?" Sonny repeated.

I ignored him. "It's been that way since…I was Kylie's age, probably before when Tunnel and Lime Light owned the night."

"I never went to Lime Light," Aro mused.

I waved a hand. "Techno music, glow sticks—place so packed everyone's sweating on everyone. This one or that one ODing in the corner."

"Sounds like fun...sounds exactly like The Tunnel."

"It was." I smiled. "I was young, though . . . damn. Like fifteen?"

"Hello!" the child in the room hollered.

"Start at the beginning," I instructed. "What's the big deal? She came to the club. If Kylie wanted to party in Jersey—_although I don't know why she would_—I'd rather her go to a place I knew. A place where someone might look out for her. Despite any differences Luke and I now have—"

"That's bullshit." Sonny spat.

He had me, but I shrugged my shoulders anyway. "Tell me why it's a problem."

He groaned. "A while ago…she called Maggie's phone looking for me, pretending to be some jump-off I was boffin'."

"Oh!" Aro shouted.

"Yeah," Sonny mumbled. "I don't know what her deal is. My boy at AT&T traced the call back to her—"

I put my finger up to grab his attention. "Amelia's not stupid, could have called from a prepaid cell—"

"Exactly. She wanted to get caught!" Sonny exclaimed. "She's looking to stir some pot and throw a rock in my game?"

"What game?" I asked.

"My marriage—I'm just saying." He settled down. "Dame never squashed anything."

"They broke up…that's squashing things," I laughed.

"No…" Sonny pulled on his hair. "It was too easy. Dame's told me that story before. Jordan was hiding in his closet—"

"For real?" I asked. "Now _that's_ game."

"Right?" Aro gave me a fist pound.

"Jordan was hiding in his closet—" Sonny's voice was significantly louder "—when Amelia showed up. She admitted some shit, about how she'd lied—"

"I know." I grumbled.

"—and Dame showed her the door. She left, and nobody's heard shit since? Except the time Luke came here to speak to you?"

"And your father told him to step off," Aro said.

"Doesn't matter." Sonny shook his head. "There's always more drama to a breakup, no matter who's fighting which battle…there's always more drama. It _can_ carry on because women can be relentless, and Dame got off too easy. And a scorned broad? Are you kidding me? The lengths they'll go through if they don't move on…? But she's not even going for Dame. She's fucking with me, which…Yo—" he shrugged and slapped his thighs "—it bothers me. She called, she showed up at Midnight Sun—she even asked for me, said a fucking bartender—and Jasper said she was flirting with him, tits all in his face. I don't know what she's up to, but she didn't get whatever she wanted out of calling Maggie. None of us have truly been around—easily accessible to her—and she's asking Jasper questions? She's got something up her sleeve . . . but I told Dame."

Sonny blew out a breath and took off his suit jacket. "I told him to reach out to her, to just call and see what's up, see if they could mend fences in their own time…to avoid some bullshit." He moved his arm with a flourish. "And the whole thing is totally fucking stupid. But if she fucks around, _we will_ retaliate, and Luke's not one to take something as big—something concerning his daughter and her honor—sitting down." He clapped once. "Understand now?"

The kid had a point, I guess, and I'd guess he'd have more experience in the scorned woman department. While my son could charm the habit off a nun, he's also had his share of slashed tires, slaps to the face, and just a number of random fucked-up acts done to him by the women he's hurt—and most of that was because he'd just move on, not necessarily hurt them…Maybe string them along? Who knows? Nobody's fucking perfect.

Before Bella—_before she'd started slapping me around_—I'd been called a prick and everything else under the sun by chicks who didn't like my hit-and-run style.

"I have to talk to Luke again," I said.

"But since you basically kicked him out of the club last time, you gotta go out there." Aro finished the thought I wasn't going to say aloud for me.

"Thank you, Mr. Wizard." Again, I was sarcastic. "But fuck that. I'd make him come here. I'm _still_ surprised Luke hasn't come to me crying. There's still beef between Philly and Jerz..." My mind wandered back to that.

Philly was trying to move in on New Jersey, but no big gestures or hits had been made.

We—New York—had basically kick-started it, turning their small disagreements into a war.

But they don't know that.

Regardless of me trying to stick it to Luke, their conflict is also what's keeping the F.B.I. at bay.

There's one car—_one_ car following me instead of a cavalry clocking us all.

The Feds have their priorities, too, and they stalk where it's simplest. Right now, there's a tiny war within small quarters. All of which makes both Philadelphia and New Jersey easy targets; meanwhile, we were supposed to have Luke's back—take out Philly with him, but they never did nothing to me, have good cheesesteaks, the Liberty Bell…and I'd agreed to that _before_ Luke had disrespected me, thus nullifying our alliance.

I still took control over Bayonne and Newark Bay—what was promised to me, because I stole it and Luke couldn't put up a fight. But what's right is right. I said there'd be peace in Staten Island—_total bullshit issue_—and in exchange I was supposed to pull my guys back, let Dirty Jerz do them, and I get control over the imports and exports out of those bays.

The whole deal was off, but I still got my end.

Philly doesn't fuck with those docks anymore—what's legit mine now—even though that'd started the whole thing. And you know what? Most crap's been going down near Camden, New Jersey—so I've heard—so there's no beefs in Staten Island.

"Adriano's a capo now," I spoke of the half-breed I made the bet with—the one with the Jersey connections.

Sonny had split up Caius's guys and promoted two to captain, which essentially spread work around, lessened his load. We also opened the books and six young guys got their buttons, including my nephew. Anthony...I was pressured into making him. Both Carlisle and Sonny swore Ant would make it up to me. To a degree, it made sense since I didn't know when I'd hold another ceremony, but Anthony was still wet behind the ears.

Anyway, Sonny did all that, put all this shit into motion, when he came back from Bermuda.

Again, I knew Sonny could handle what I'd given him. I had faith. He just had to get his head outta his ass and think.

"He's running those ports, too…" I pursed my lips. "I want him poking around. I wanna know the official score—what's up between the two families." I'd previously told everyone to stay out of it, despite starting the first battle. "But…only tell him what he needs to know." I stared at Sonny. "I'm serious. We'll know what they're up to, but Adriano opens his mouth…" I wiped my hands clean. "It'd be a sin…for him to move up and _out_ so quick."

Sonny grinned. "He's been doing that, acting like he's playing both sides, but he only tells Luke what I tell him to."

Impressed by him taking such initiative, I just nodded my head. "And…?"

"Jersey's up. We opened the books and so did they. Luke's got four more heads of muscle at his disposal. They've moved through Philly a few times…they're starting to take over."

"Huh…" Aro snorted, giving me a wary glance. "Like rats...scavengers scattering around."

"Stop," Sonny said. "Regardless, the idea is to stay out of it—let _them_ kill _each other_, continue to keep the heat off us. Hey, if it's over by next year, and youse are still bored…we take out whoever's leftover." He was correct but getting too excited over nothing.

"Relax," I laughed. "We're still staying out of it. All right? I just wanna what know what Luke's next move might be."

Expanding never hurt anyone.

Stomping out the competition only hurts the competition.

"Skip…even if they teamed up against us, we could wipe them out. We're the biggest organization with alliances at every turn. We could tear them to shreds, and then expand even more. It'd be a gold mine. We'd take control of Newark and Philadelphia—"

"Yo!" Sonny shouted at Aro. "Cool it."

"The fuck…" Aro stared Sonny down.

"Who you think you are, Napoleon?" Sonny cracked up. "What are we, Nazis? We're gonna take everybody on the eastern seaboard out? We goin' after Boston next?"

"Hey..." Aro tilted his head. "Boston would have our back if we gave up that Vermont shit."

"What are you, crazy?" Sonny was in disbelief. "You're talkin' World War III," he laughed.

"Knock it off—both of youse!" I banged my fist down. "We're doing nothing." I racked my brain because I'm old and forgot how this whole conversation started. "Luke's got his hands full already. Whatever Dame's old twat does—she starts trouble—Luke will come to us on his hands and knees, begging for forgiveness. He can't take another hit right now, and what's she gonna do? Really? I refuse to worry about some little girl."

"If Damion—"

"Damion isn't going to do anything," I said. "If Amelia feels she has a score to settle—"

"What?" Sonny was visibly upset. "Why does it even have to get to that point? You want some shit to pop off, just so you can have Luke by the balls? For your amusement? You already have Luke in a corner. He can't move or do anything without your approval. Fuck. Luke's scared to even ask for help. You could swoop in and interfere—put a stop to the war itself, but you think it's entertaining."

"So, what?" I wasn't ashamed of that. "You caught me." I rolled my eyes.

"Things are going well. We're making more money than ever before and there's peace, Dad." He called me "dad" and not "Skip" to drive his point home. It was duly noted, but he had me all wrong. "Everyone in this family is happy."

"I feel we're worrying over nothing." I kept my tone low so he'd calm down. "Your mother and Elena were friends. I'll have Mom call her, see how Amelia's doing…Sonny, the girl made one phone call, which could be considered a prank, and she had a few drinks at the club."

Sonny leaned his elbow onto his knee, pointing his finger at me. "You always taught me to trust my instincts—to strike before being struck, and this li'l broad seems like a loose cannon to me. She knows way too much about how shit works. Not worrying because she's a female is bullshit. Amelia—holding a nine—is just as deadly as I am. Meanwhile, all of this might be settled if Dame just talks to her."

A large part of me agreed with Sonny, while I also felt he was making a big deal out of nothing.

What the fuck could Luke do to us?

Not much. I could see not wanting to deal with such a thing, but my son had nothing to fear.

He continued. "She's also got a few more tricks than anyone with a dick can pull—a pussy, her daddy's army ready and willing to do her bidding for the _right_ price . . . All I'm saying is that something small could turn into something catastrophic—New York, New Jersey, and Philadelphia—all at each other's throats because Dame broke her heart? You've also taught me how to pick my battles, and this isn't one of them. I'm not getting pinched or fucking killed before I'm thirty because of some bullshit like that."

"Look—" I sipped my forgotten drink "—you're that worried about it…? Handle it the way you see fit, but we stay outta their way. Let Luke handle his own against Philly. You start poking around, he's going to ask for help, and...I don't wanna help him. He disrespects me, so now it's time for him to sink or swim."

Sonny laughed. "All I want is for Dame to call her…He's being such a coward, or he just doesn't give a fuck. He's got more to lose than we do."

I shrugged.

"More importantly, why are you so reluctant to let Dame lie in his own bed?" Sonny asked.

I didn't know how to answer him, but I knew many things to be true. Damion merely brushed up against the thing. He stepped back; he's doing well with school and his girl. Asking him to contact Amelia would be like dragging him back in, making him think he needs to be strapped, he'd have his guard up.

Damion doesn't know that I sometimes have people watching his back.

He doesn't know anything . . . not anymore.

"I don't want him involved—"

"It's his mess! How many times do we have to save the day? How many more have to die—"

"Shut your mouth!" I shouted.

"No! You warned him. You told him from jump to stay away from Amelia if he wasn't serious—not to get involved, unless he was 100%—and he did it anyway. He's like a toddler testing to see if an iron's hot or something, but you never let him get burned…so he goes back to check it out. You keep letting him get away with everything! How's he gonna learn—not only in this thing of ours—but in life? If we keep cleaning up for him?" Sonny asked.

I scoffed. "The same fucking way I clean up your shit!"

"My shit?" Sonny pointed to himself.

"Hang on!" Aro widened his arms. "I'll call Luke…go with honesty…say Amelia's poking her nose where it shouldn't be, and let him handle it. He doesn't want any problems with us. If it's brought to his attention, he'll take care of it—leaving us all outta the equation."

I toasted my scotch to that and finished what was left in the glass.

But that didn't appease Sonny. "What have you cleaned up for me?"

"Let it go." Aro rushed out.

"No…for real. I'm curious." Sonny stared at me.

And I . . . I did not . . .

For the first time in my life, I didn't want to fight fire with fire. I wanted to keep my word to my wife. I wanted us all to get along, and egging Sonny on would result in another Cold War amongst our family.

"Sit down and shut your fucking mouth," I demanded.

Sonny shook his head. "You don't talk to Dame like that."

"For the last time, stop worrying about how I treat your brother. Okay?" I was trying really hard to be nice, stay calm. "You that pissed you gotta go to the prom, what?" I widened my arms.

My eldest wouldn't look at me, had his jaw squared. "You know I'm right. You also know I'd do anything for Dame, but he went too far, and now there are _still_ repercussions from his actions. Since that night he clipped Joe...it's been a domino effect. This, this, and this one had to die...now we have problems with these people. And now that bitch is calling my wife? If you don't do something, if my brother does nothing, then...yeah." He looked to me. "I'll handle it how _I_ see fit." Which was what I just told him.

I opened my mouth to reply, but I shut it just as fast.

Aro turned around to face him. "Katie called me…"

I bit my lips together to stop from laughing at the look on Sonny's face. He was whiter than normal with wide eyes, probably surprised by my friend's timing.

"Yeah…" Aro practically spoke to himself. "You know, about all that honesty?" he asked Sonny.

"Listen, I could give a flying fuck if she moves back to Brooklyn or even Bay Ridge. I want nothing to do with her," Sonny said. "I've put all that past me."

Aro looked to me. "Can I believe him?"

I nodded. "The only one he's looking for a fight from is me." It's been that way since Sonny was in diapers, as it seems I can never do right by him.

Doesn't he realize…Doesn't he see that he's practically in the driver's seat? On the throne already? My being out and about is basically only to thwart the F.B.I., so Sonny doesn't get pinched—the heat doesn't shift, and—God forbid—they figure out who's really running the show.

These days, there's really not a thing I _don't_ involve Sonny in.

We confer, talk it out, and sometimes it gets heated; however, while I still throw orders at him, I'm listening more, absorbing his words instead of tuning out his bitchy rants.

And, if he's correct, I ultimately tell him to handle certain issues how "he" sees fit.

He's smart.

_When he's my age…_

Whereas I like to think I turned this shit into an art form—my own masterpiece—Santino might just turn organized crime legit in his time, if such a thing is possible…

Because of me, he has a lot more connections than I ever did at his age.

But I'm still top dog, the boss, until I officially say otherwise.

My plan might just have to stay a secret for a while…until Sonny and I truly bump heads. It will come to that, and depending on how hard he fights me, it will let me know if he's ready or not.

"No," Sonny disagreed. "You said something, and I wanted you to finish what you were saying...I don't want to fight with you." His eyes were pleading, and I believed him.

"Don't you have a tux fitting or something?" I smirked.

He scrubbed his face with his hand. "I did that yesterday." And like that—the snap of my fingers—Sonny calmed down.

"Your mother's real excited…try and smile for pictures."

Sonny agreed and then looked to his phone. "I gotta go."

"I thought the prom wasn't 'til later?" I asked.

He pulled his jacket back on. "We're having dinner before…at like five…to be there by seven. I have to be ready to go by three—at your house for pictures—and before that, I gotta get the good champagne that doesn't give my wife a headache, and sprinkle rose petals on a bed at the Waldorf." Sonny sounded like a fucking robot, naming shit off his fingers.

"Oh . . . of course." Again, I tried not to laugh at his old ass going to a prom. "By all means."

For some reason, it was fucking hilarious.

"I'll—" I took a good look around the office, and everything was still the same. "I'll do my best to be there."

"By three?" Sonny asked. "I gotta haul ass." He threw us the peace sign and rapidly left the room.

"What that kid _won't_ do for that little broad." Aro shook his head.

"That's his wife," I said, because I understood. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do for Bella. "You wouldn't—"

"I'm a nice guy, but there are limits. A cheesy-ass prom?"

"It's a school dance…" I laughed, but only when Aro dissed it was I truly ready to defend it—my son and his choices. "Call Luke—say what you gotta say."

Aro stood from his chair. "I'll be out back, smoking a cigarette."

I heaved my ass out from behind the desk. "I'll go with you—put the call on speaker." I snatched the bottle of Jack before we left the office.

Once outside, I kept my hand out for a cigarette.

"Don't you ever buy your own?" Aro bitched, giving me one.

"Fuck you and gimme a lighter…When you're here, you ever pay for booze…?" I raised a brow. "No."

Aro sucked his teeth and got all cunty while he placed his phone to his ear.

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts.**_

_**Sonny POV is up NEXT!**_

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_**Thank you!**_


	45. Finding Nemo

**Stephenie**** Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd**** by ****HollettLA****.**

******This chapter immediately follows CH44, and CH46 will follow this one. However, in CH47 there will be a jump in time - a month.**

**HUGE thank you to those of you who have continued to read and review. **

**Love you guys! XOXOXO.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Forty-Five: Finding Nemo**

**Sonny POV**

_**W**_hen I left my parents' bedroom, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome, I was pleased with what I saw, and I didn't have a hair out of place.

All I knew was that if I had to go to this prom, I was going to look my best, and the night was going to be perfect for Maggie.

We're going to dance—_to all the slow songs_—and then we'll party. I'll show my young wife a great and fun time, and it'll be a night she'll never forget.

Earlier, while I was at the Waldorf getting things ready for later, Maggie sent me a text.

My mother was having food brought over from La Bella Italia. The fucking family was coming over, and now it was this big thing, which knocked my romantic dinner for two off the list.

It was cool in that it gave us more time to get ready, but for whatever reason we were already running late.

Truth be told, I was looking forward to having a nice quiet meal before all that bullshit—the prom and the nightclub.

I wished we could eat and fast-forward to the memory-foam mattress at the Waldorf, the champagne, doing some kinky shit with my wife…you know, the fun stuff.

Chillin' in a gymnasium amongst a bunch of pimply-faced teenagers—who are also looking to get drunk and laid but can't hold their liquor—didn't sound like a good time to me. Especially since I knew teachers and students alike would be staring at me…the old dude with the fuckhot, young bride.

_Okay, so it's not that bad._

Still, with how much the prom tickets cost and how much the tuition is to attend that damn school, I'd hoped they'd hold the dance at some fancy hotel or a hall.

But no...they're having it at the school.

"Hey…" I saw Damion's reflection in the mirror.

"What's up?" I turned to give him a fist-pound. "Youse just get here?"

He nodded, placing his hands into his pockets. "You look good."

"Thanks." I decided not to do what I have been, harass him about Amelia, since I had my own plan.

Curious, during my travels, I'd called Aro after I left Eclipse. When he'd called Luke, there was no answer, and Aro wasn't about to go calling around for him.

To my father and Aro, putting this shit to bed wasn't a priority, and I can understand that.

But I was involved.

Once that bitch called Maggie, I was dragged into this, and so if Damion doesn't want to finish it, I will.

"I saw Maggie…" He chuckled. "She looks…amazing." Damion scratched the back of his neck, eyes falling to the floor.

Knowing how dazzling and gorgeous my wife is, I didn't comment, although I was all the more excited to see her. My wife, mother, and sister are acting as though this is a wedding or some shit. I wasn't even allowed to see Maggie's dress.

It was cute.

"Why you all…" I gestured to him, "nervous?"

Dame shook his head. "I...don't know." He let out a large breath. "Maybe it's bringing Jordan around again…Mom talks too much, you know? So does Kylie and everybody else." His gaze fell away from me again. "I know what you're going to say, but...I haven't called Amelia."

"I wasn't going to bring her up at all," I defended.

"It's hard for me to even get away to meet you for lunch…When we _can_ meet. If I sneak off, Jordan thinks I'm up to something, which I don't understand," he laughed. "But I don't mind either…I just wanna leave Amelia and my past with her behind me, that _whole stint_ of time, actually." He paused, leaving his mouth open. "Sonny, it makes me cringe to think about that…The shit I did…to you, to you_ and_ Maggie, to Dad, to…" He chuckled without humor. "It might just be easier if I list those who I _didn't_ fuck-over." My brother showed more remorse than I thought him capable of.

"No worries." I patted his shoulder. "I get it…I don't know if Jordan makes you better or helps to tone you down, but she levels you out." My brother is the best version of himself around her. Having her in his life has changed him, and I always wonder if he sees it. Damion _will_ marry Jordan _if_ she sticks around. _I _could see it already, as much as he says they're taking things slow.

Dame snorted. "That…was really nice of you to say, heartfelt even."

I punched his bicep. "Your Swedish Meatball makes you a better man."

He winced. "Don't fucking call her that, bro."

I cackled all the way out of my parents' bedroom and down the hall, while I knew he was following after me. "You coming out later?" I looked to him from over my shoulder.

"Later…? Where?" he asked, excitement in his eyes. "I-I don't know if Jordan will be cool with chillin' at Eclipse."

I stopped walking and turned to face him. "Because I bring my wife with me to look at naked women all the time?" My tone was laced with sarcasm.

"I dunno…Kylie said that Maggie likes it there."

"She does?" That made me smile wide, although I know Maggie doesn't like _me_ being there. "She's so cute—"

"Could be bisexual." He nudged my elbow.

"No, she's not!" That upset me. "She likes the D!"

My brother laughed. "Does that stand for Damion?"

I showed him the back of my hand, but he knew I was fucking around, too. "Shut up before I titty-fuck your girlfriend—"

"Oh!" he shouted, 'cause what I'd said hit a nerve.

Then again, that was my intention.

"What?" I asked, taking a step toward him.

"You kid around, but if I said something like that—"

I chuckled. "You've said _a lot_ worse than that about my wife." I walked around him, yet I knew we couldn't be at odds right now. I faced him once more. "I'm sorry for throwing that in your face."

He furrowed his brow. "No, you're not."

"Are you always sorry…?" I didn't wait for him to reply. "The sentiment's still the same. Right?" As I appraised my brother, he seemed so much smaller than he used to be. Like his balls had shriveled up and he was rocking a hernia, or I'd just gotten bigger—not my form but in other ways.

Damion looked to the floor yet his eyes came right back. He was going to keep eye contact with me if it killed him, it seemed. "What's up for tonight? Blowout at Midnight Sun?"

_Was he seriously going to make it this easy? _

"Twilight." Because I have better control over it—can control it—keep it at minimum capacity without my father knowing why. It'd be one thing if it was just Maggie and me, but Dad doesn't want Dame in any of the clubs unless he's there.

Dame scrunched his nose. "The lounge there is small, not very impressive."

"You're worried about impressing Jordan?"

"No…I mean, yes." He chuckled. "I don't know."

"Don't worry about it. Youse leave here, and we'll scoop youse up in the limo—champagne, the club. I think that's pretty fucking impressive already." I kept my voice down.

"Sonny!" Mom called me, currently walking toward us from down the hall.

I placed my finger to my lips. "I don't feel like babysitting Kylie."

Damion nodded, wouldn't say a word.

"What's up?" I turned to my mother.

She gasped. "You look so handsome!" Mom hugged me. "My boys…" And then I felt Damion squashed against my back. "I love you guys…my babies." She started crying.

"Geez, Mom…" Damion groaned.

I rubbed Mom's back but wondered why she was weepy. "My Santino." She palmed my cheeks. "You're such a good man…"

"Ha!" Dame shouted. "Criminal lord of the underground and notorious cokehead…"

"Damion!" Mom hollered, and our Hallmark moment was over.

"Thanks, bro." I refused to look at him.

"It kind of…just slipped?" he asked.

"Why—are—you—so rotten sometimes?" Mom swatted at Damion's bicep.

"Dad…?" he asked. "I get it from him?" Damion flashed her his Colgate smile, and he was talking about Dad, which pretty much melted my mother.

I left the hall to find my wife, but I heard Mom whisper, "This is a big night for Sonny," although I had no idea why. I kept my ears on them and slowed my steps, but Mom never elaborated.

She always makes the good even greater, so her throwing such a celebration wasn't a surprise to me.

"Hold up your tits, so I can close the dress!" Kylie scolded.

I stopped short in front my sister's bedroom, and that's when I saw Maggie.

She was a vision in white, this slightly off-white, strapless ball gown that had silver sequined trim. It was almost like a wedding dress, and the sight of her completely took my breath away.

Her hair was curled but pushed away from her face.

The diamond solitaire earrings shined in the light...

"Told you," Dame whispered and hit my back. All of which made my presence known.

Maggie beamed at me. "Hey…"

"Hey, you." I walked into the room. "You look…"

I've seen her naked more times than I could count and in various positions.

I've seen her wear many things.

I see my gorgeous wife _every_ day.

Yet…I was speechless.

"You look stunning." I cleared my throat, reaching for her hand. "Beautiful."

"Ugh…here we go!" Kylie threw her hands up. "I'll be inside." My sister tried to bite me as she passed me—for whatever reason, but I didn't care. "Let him do it. It might be hot," she whispered from the door.

And Kylie can still make my wife blush.

Maggie was flustered. "I…I love you in a tuxedo, Santino." She ran her hands up my chest.

Her words were simple; however, they sounded like the sweetest poetry.

"Uh…" I chuckled, placing my hand under her jaw to hold that face. "What do you need me to do?"

"Oh…there's tiny buttons in the back." She nodded, pointing. "Kylie couldn't get them with her nails."

"Okay…turn around." I grasped her hand.

"I can just ask your mom." She stared up at me.

"What?" I didn't understand what the big deal was. "I'll do it."

Gently, I turned her around to stare at her shoulders, the soft, exposed skin of her back. The white dress and her beauty floored me. Her hair was perfect, and it smelled delicious...

"You look like an angel," I blurted but it felt foreign on my lips—seeing her that way, as something angelic.

It was true, though. No dirty thoughts had truly entered my mind.

I'd be content to just sit and stare at her—my love, my life…my wife.

"Stop breathing on me," she pleaded through a whine.

"What?" That broke me from my reverie. It also made me laugh. "I'm sorry." I winced, trailing my fingers down to those buttons.

"Whooo." Maggie blew out a breath and stepped away from me. "I'm gonna get Bella…" She whipped around to me, face blazing red.

"What's wrong?" I asked, as every time I've gotten close to Maggie today—which we've barely spent two minutes together—she's either wanted my mother or latched onto my sister. "Did I do or say something? If you heard Dame and me in the hall—"

"No!" she was fast to say. "I just…I promised…myself that we'd have some self-control? I'd make it to prom with my hair still perfect, dress not crumpled from being fucked on the floor of a limo—shit like that." Maggie covered her mouth. "You know what I mean."

"Oh…I do." I nodded, although I took some offense to that. I'm not a fucking animal. "Of course." But she was my wife. Good, bad, or indifferent, she can be truthful.

"I love you," she whispered, tears in her eyes all of a sudden. "I love you so much. You can crumple my dress any time. I didn't mean. I don't know what I mean…"

"You're so cute." I placed my lips to her forehead, letting them linger. "I promise not to mess up your dress. Okay? I can button it for you."

"But then you have to touch me."

"Yeah, so?" I smirked. "Mag, how many months we been married? You're acting like we're...on our third date or something." That's exactly how it felt, like we were strangers. Well, that's how _she_ was treating me. "I hate to break it you, baby." I lifted her hand to kiss her engagement ring. "After the prom, after the club, and after the Waldorf…we're going back home."

She sniffled, had stopped crying before she even really started. "I know…wait, the club? Why?"

"To party," I said. "Drinks, music…"

"You're working?"

"No…but we do need to talk. We'll talk on our way to the school, but it's nothing bad," I promised.

She looked to ceiling, showing me her palms. "But…Santino, I don't wanna go to Midnight Sun."

"Not Midnight Sun. Twilight, the club I've been working out of lately. It's smaller, a little different. You've never been there, and you said you wanted to see it—"

"I thought we'd dance to a few songs—" her frown stayed in place "—take pictures for the yearbook, and then…it'd just be the two of us. Santino, please…no matter which...I don't wanna go to a club."

"But, why not?" I swayed her from side to side, hoping to make her smile. "It's my night off. We can let loose and have a great time. We can do—"

"Whatever I want?" she asked.

I sighed. "I was going to say 'anything.'"

Maggie pouted yet pursed her lips at the same time. "I was up so late last night...studying, and then this morning…I thought we'd be in bed by like…midnight."

I shook my head. "Sweetheart, you're young…you're beautiful." I pulled her into my arms. "You should take the opportunity to have fun now."

"You're parenting me again," she said in a dull monotone, but then her voice continued to get louder, "which is creepy, so stop it! I hate when you boss me around. If I don't wanna go to the club, then I don't wanna go, San-tin-o!" She poked my chest with her finger for every syllable my name had.

Utterly dumbfounded, I was saved by a rapt knock. "Can I come in?" Mom smiled at us, peeking around the door.

"She's all yours," I whispered, leaving the room, all while I wondered what happened to that love stuff.

Maggie still looked like an angel, but she acted more like a demon.

The farther away from the room I got, I found it increasingly funny.

The whole ordeal had me in hysterics.

"Hey…" Dad hit my shoulder.

"Hi." I kept going toward the couch, surprised to see him here.

"I don't get a hug?" he asked.

"What?" I looked around us. "For…? Did'ju make a good score? What?"

He sucked his teeth. "Hug your daddy, man." My father almost tackled me to the ground.

"Yo…" It was weird to say the least. "You drunk?" I held him back.

Dad smacked my cheek, being playful with a beaming smile on his face. "We got bored…maybe I'm a little tipsy, but when I found out what was so important—"

"The prom…?" I raised a brow.

Dad's face fell for a second. "Exactly."

"The fuck do you care?" I found it hilarious. "The prom..." I had to lower my voice; I didn't want Maggie to hear me goofing about it.

"I _do_ care!" he chastised, waving a finger. "Don't ever think I don't." He hugged me again.

"What'd you drink? Absinthe?" I thought my father was trippin' balls right now.

"My baby boy…"

I stared to the ceiling, wondering if the world was playing a trick on me. "Yeah…I'm in a monkey suit. Big deal."

He let go of me to gasp and then he ran for Maggie. "You look so beautiful. You're glow—"

"Edward," Mom scolded. "Leave her alone!"

I shook my head, my eyes finding my brother. "What's that about…?" I just jerked a thumb to Dad.

Damion didn't say anything.

When his gaze flashed to mine, I swore I saw hate there. "You all right?" I asked.

He nodded, taking a peek at Jordan. She just sat there with Kylie and Peto, and none of them were really talking. Of course, Jordan never says a word to me ever, nor does she speak even if I'm _just_ in the room. I don't know what her problem is. She's weird, and whenever I speak to her, she starts stuttering, blushing. But she makes Dame happy, and we're all a little weird.

_Jordan fits right in with our odd cast of characters._

Maggie adores her for whatever reason, wants us to go on double dates, wants us to invite them over. My brother knows—our recently indifferent relationship aside—he's always welcome.

"Dude," I said to get Dame's attention.

"What?" He had an attitude.

I waved a hand, letting it go.

_It wasn't worth it._

"Okay…let's get some pictures!" Mom had the camera.

That was my cue to stand by the fireplace and hold my wife's waist. "You good?" I asked her.

"I wanna get outta here already."

"Can you make up your mind?" I hedged through a fake smile. "I thought we were having dinner."

"You're mad."

"I'm _not_ mad…" I was exasperated and held her tighter. "I love you." I kissed her hair. "We'll eat and—"

"Oh!" Maggie turned as soon as the flash blinded us. "We're already running late and I'm not hungry. Are you hungry?" She spoke so fast, confusing me even more.

"Um…" I twirled her in my arms, placing my lips to her neck. That made Maggie stop squirming—in one way—while it gave Mom a great photo-op. "We're done?"

Mom crinkled her brow. "With one picture?"

"No, take more," Dad said. "Look at Maggie..." He gestured to her. "How pretty..."

"Skip, please..." Maggie sounded whiny, and I love it when she calls my father "Skip". That's what he told her to call him, since she didn't take to calling him "Daddy", like Kylie and like he'd suggested.

_Fucking weirdo._

"Can you stop making a fuss?" Mom scolded my father again.

"But, look at her." Dad chuckled.

Speaking of, I looked down to Maggie and her beet red face.

"Can we get the show on the road?" I asked. "I'll order more than a dozen from the school," I promised, just as I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket; I ignored it.

"Well…" Mom bit her lip. "You're not thinking of cutting out already, are you? I invited the Sullivans—"

"What?" Maggie asked. "Why—"

"I'm sorry." My mother mouthed, and she meant that shit, too. "I was taking the garbage out and I saw your mom…She knew what today was."

"Helluva surprise," I commented.

"She said she'd bring your sister," Mom kept her tone low.

"My sister?" Maggie held her stomach, like she might be sick. "I just—"

"We'll leave right now," I said, since I knew how nervous Maggie was about getting in touch with her little sister, Mary Jo, again. Her parents were one thing. They've told her on numerous occasions how they wanted to keep Mary Jo away from her, how she's a bad influence, and then my mother goes and invites these people over?

"Whoa…relax," Dad protested.

Maggie turned to look up to me, and with a slight nod to her head, I knew what she wanted.

"Love youse all, but we're out!" I saluted my family before grasping Maggie's hand and heading for the door.

"Sonny!" my mother shouted.

I opened the door, staring at her. "You had no right to do that without asking first."

"Watch your tone," Dad scolded.

I didn't even bother to acknowledge him.

"I thought she was scared…she seems scared, but I thought…I thought she might need her mom." My mother was telling the truth, being sincere.

"No…" Maggie said, peeking around me. "Not today. Not now. _I'm_ sorry." She held her chest.

"Come here, you." Mom stole my wife to squeeze her.

"You're letting bugs in!" Dad made me close the door.

"Bella, you're amazing, and I love you," Maggie whispered.

"I love you, too, sweet girl." Mom fixed her hair. "Go have fun…I'll talk to your mom, tell her you guys…were going to be late." She flashed me an uneasy smile.

Once we were officially out the door, Maggie made a mad dash to the limo in her heels. Again, it had me chuckling behind her. She might drive me insane, but being married to her sure was fun—if nothing else.

"I'm so happy we're gone!" she let out a giggle. "The way they were looking at me…"

"You're beautiful." I closed the door after myself and told the driver, "Bishop Ford High School," before closing the glass partition. "I…honestly didn't think you'd get that upset…about seeing your family."

"Just…not today." She melted into my side.

"Wanna stop for pizza first?" There's a pizzeria across the street from the school, one I was most familiar with when I was a student. "Or…champagne? What would make you feel better?" I looked down to her.

She's my wife.

And before my mother brought up her parents, Maggie was nervous, and she's still anxious now. "I hate all those people at that fucking school…"

"What?" I smirked at my little devil, although she's got the world fooled.

"What's the point?" She sat up to stare at me. "It's a stupid dance, and—"

"It's your prom," I said. "That means something." I didn't want to touch her hair, but I did anyway, and Maggie didn't bitch about it.

"Someone's texting you." Maggie leaned away.

I sighed as I dug my phone out. It was Damion, saying that he'd meet us later at Twilight.

"Who's that?" she asked.

I let her read from the phone. "You can sleep all day tomorrow, but you have to have at least _one_ dance at your prom." I couldn't be a dick and insist, no matter how much I wanted us at that club. "Then…we can do whatever you want. If that's…being in bed by midnight, that's cool."

"You have something to do…You'll leave as soon as I fall asleep."

"No." I kissed her palm. "No way."

I saw a hint of guilt in her eyes. "Do you…have something to do?"

"It's not important…I was going to tell you all about it, but if we're not going—"

"Tell me." She curled into my side again.

"You trust me?"

"Of course," she whispered.

"Good…because I had to do something dishonest earlier, but it's not really dishonest because I'm telling you."

She leaned away to unleash that curious gaze on me, like she didn't know what was coming next.

"Relax." I palmed her cheek, needing to just spit it out already. "We've spoken about how Amelia called your phone?"

"Did you ever find out, like, what the purpose was?" She grasped my hand.

I nodded. "Before I got dressed, when I was outside? I'd called her. I just decided to be upfront since Aro couldn't get ahold of her father. So, I called to say what's up…" I shrugged, and this was where I didn't know how to phrase my words properly.

"She wants you…She flirted with you?" Maggie asked.

"Yes, but I had this idea . . . a stupid fucking idea. I thought we'd all be at the club, and Amelia could see how happy Dame is with Jordan. Then...I'd tell her to stay away from my family, or—" I stopped when Maggie shook her head. "Look, only bad thing is that…to get her there, I had to make her believe she had a shot."

"A shot? What, with you?" She pinched my chest and that shit fucking hurt.

"Stop!" I put my hands out to block her.

"I don't want you talking to her!" She pulled my hair.

"Maggie, you don't understand—"

She pushed me. "I understand perfectly, but that still doesn't erase the fact that I don't want you talking to her, I don't want her looking at you, or even thinking about you!"

"I'm trying to be 100% honest with you. If you can't handle the truth—"

"You're my husband!" she shouted.

"Exactly…which means I'm yours, will be leaving with you." I hugged her to my side. "It's something I gotta handle before others get involved, before she pulls some wild stunt, which may or may not include hurting you!"

She fought her way out of the embrace. "Threatening her is going to make that happen? Why don't you just sleep with her? At least then she'll get what she wants." She wiped under her eyes.

I groaned and stiffened. "Listen—"

"No…Santino, I may be young. I may be short. I may be quiet sometimes, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. All you're going to do is give her more ammo, while pointing Jordan out to her. Did you think of that?"

"You're worried about Jordan?" I snorted. "Nothing's going to happen to Jordan."

"You're placing a mark on Jordan's back," she cried.

Impressed, I stared at her. "Where'd you hear that expression?" I wondered which mafia-melodrama Kylie had her watching this week.

"You know that's what you're doing…" She shook her head.

"No," I disagreed. "I'll be ending it tonight. Get Amelia out of our lives for good. I'd never let something happen to Jordan—"

Maggie kept talking over me. "Even if Amelia doesn't obey your threat, she'll have a new target in mind…like a bait and switch."

"You know what? I honestly didn't think about it that way…but you're right. And, so what? Then it'd rightfully be my brother's problem." I bent low to meet her gaze. "Maggie, you're my wife, my responsibility, and even if it means doing some shady shit, I'm gonna do my best to take care of you and protect you."

"But that's so wrong." My beauty, her makeup was ruined.

"Nothing's going to happen to Jordan. Fuck." I pulled her in to hug her tight. "Maggie, my love…you like being able to go shopping, to the tanning salon, and to my parents' house, right?"

"Stop trying to scare me."

"I'm not trying to do anything but help you understand. Freedom isn't free, and you knew who I was when you married me—"

"This is America." She sounded so young.

"This is Brooklyn," I reminded her. "And you need to know that…the only way someone can hurt _me_? Is by hurting _you_. So, I need you to be easy, and as my wife…respect the decisions I make to help keep us safe."

"But—"

"No." I touched her lips with my knuckle. "This time, I need you to agree." My mouth went to her ear to whisper, "I know you hate Amelia, but do you hate her enough to want her gone? To disappear? 'Cause you're not giving me many options here." My wife didn't know how serious I was, but I loved her more than life itself, and I'd do anything to protect her.

Even if that meant icing Amelia Drasso, which would throw us right into a war with New Jersey . . .

_If_ Luke found out about it, anyway.

She quietly sobbed into her hands before looking at me. "Aro couldn't-couldn't call her father." We were now parked in front of the school. "What if he tries and gets ahold of him tomorrow?"

I shrugged a shoulder.

To be honest, I didn't know what my best course of action was anymore. But just like my father said earlier, Amelia isn't stupid.

If I explained her fate—if she stayed on this vengeful road—she will back off.

At the end of the day, she's a chick, I could play her like a fiddle…turn on the charm, get her alone and put the fear of God into her.

It's a sound fucking plan, and all of that shit with my brother . . .

My pressuring Dame was for nothing, because there's no way she feared Damion.

She'd seen him at his worst, his scariest, and she came out on the other side, but my brother could never—truly—hurt Amelia. It wouldn't be because he loved her at one point or feared her father. Most likely, it had to do with what was between her legs.

And I wouldn't think twice.

Not with this, not with what I'd stand to lose if that bitch threw out a wild card.

Maggie also needed understand how she could get played as well. Amelia has friends. I'm usually busy, and any one could easily meet up with Maggie at the supermarket, or the salon, or…anywhere.

How, in the long run, Maggie might wish she could go back and give me her blessing—tell me to take Amelia out.

"Are you upset that I'll actually be speaking to Amelia? Like jealous? Or are you scared?" I asked. "Be honest with me."

"A little bit of all three? We're just…Santino, everything is _finally_ coming together." She let out a short wail that broke my heart. "Why is this happening? Why are you involved?"

"She's not going to stop," I whispered. "She called you…stopped at the club, she's asking my friends about me—harassing them about my whereabouts? She's done more than enough. Maybe you can't see it. Maybe you don't think it's a big deal, but it will be…in the long run." I gently pecked her lips; they were salty.

"How—how can you be so cold? Talking about this stuff…I just…If I were you, you'd never let me go talk to some guy for your sake."

I grabbed a napkin from the small bar to clean her face. "You forget that you have…You talked Dame down from a ledge, the night he pulled the gun on me? That was for _me_, too. You knew that, made sure I didn't lose my temper and do something I'd regret."

"That's different…Damion…He's Damion. I don't know. He was hurting, more than I'd ever seen someone hurt in my life, so all that pain—he wanted to share it with you?" She shook her head. "You know he used to be creepy—"

"Baby, he's still the same person…only now…his interests have changed. He has a shiny new toy in Jordan." I never know what to believe when it comes to my brother. "Do you understand that?"

"You can see that he loves her," she said.

I nodded. "I never said he didn't. If he feels it and shows it, I believe _he believes_ he's in love." I let out a dry laugh. "Look at what he did when we first got together? All that, it was because I had you, which meant you were off-limits to him. No matter what I did or said, he wouldn't relent. He filled your head with garbage, started all this trouble and tried to tear us apart. We didn't talk for a long while, and then he meets Jordan. You and me are already married…and voilà…he backed off." I threw my hands in the air.

"But you're better than that…than the way you're being now." She dabbed under her nose with the tissue, and I helped her out a bit there.

The sight of her in tears had more torn up than anything.

"Maybe I do seem cold, when talking about this stuff, but I don't know what other way to be. This…making a move before anyone else can, baby, it's all I know." I grabbed her hand. "And I wish people weren't evil. I wish…others would back off. But, let's face it, people only put themselves first. They look out for their best interests and wants, so me protecting you, doesn't make me any worse than them. And if Damion gave a fuck? He would have handled it already."

I still don't know why I can't…

All I know is that, in the near future, I need to sit and think about my brother.

Really think...weigh the pros and cons, sick of all this bullshit already.

I have to truly forgive him for the past, or write him out of my life.

For the past year, he's been nothing but trouble, and our relationship was nothing like it used to be.

Maggie nodded, swallowing her remaining tears. "Then I'll be with you…I'll be there when you talk to her."

"No, I…" I groaned. "I don't want you hearing what I might say, or how I might say it. You can't see me that way. I don't—"

"I love you…"

"I know that." I wasn't going to budge on this. "I love you, too."

"You talk about honesty and…not shielding me from the truth to get me accustomed to this…lifestyle." She stopped to stare at me, and I knew that look.

"You knew _exactly_ who I was, Maggie. I told you. I was honest while I hoped and prayed you'd look past it." I had to turn my face away from her. "You wanna see your Santino turn into a monster? Sure, stay with me…confront Amelia with me." I gave in, turning back to her.

"You could never be a monster," she whispered. "I love you despite the decisions you make." She palmed my cheeks, making me look at her. "I love you so much, that no matter what...like if my brain says something is stupid…if my heart wants it? Even if everything else tells me to run away, I stay and do what my heart tells me…because I love you, because I wanna make you happy." Maggie lightly kissed my lips, resting them there for a second. "You didn't scare me away back in February…You're not scaring me away now."

"Okay." I cleared my throat, didn't know what to say, but her words filled that emptiness I previously had in my gut…when I doubted…everything for a minute there. "Thank you."

"God…" She stared up. "This is_ so_ not how I wanted this night to go."

Since the driver is getting paid for the night, I slouched down and gathered Maggie into my arms. "I'm sorry…Maybe I've been hasty in my decision making…I'm just scared, and I know tonight's your night, but actually dealing with that shit was going to take five minutes at best, while you danced and drank yourself silly. I knew I had to tell you; I also knew it wouldn't affect your special…night. Everything is perfectly planned…like when we first stayed there? I got the same suite."

That made her crack a grin. "And your dad came to get me…" She palmed her face.

"Yeah." I chuckled. "To be fair, we disappeared for nearly ten days."

"But it was the best ten days…ever."

I agreed. "Abso-fucking-lutely."

"How was everything more confusing and yet simpler back then?" she asked.

"We were just having a good time?" I smirked. "You didn't know me…You never asked me anything." I let out another laugh. "Why? Why didn't you—"

"I was afraid." She wrapped her arms around my middle again. "I just enjoyed you. I loved looking at you…naked."

"Oh." That surprised me. "Really?"

"I still do…enjoy the view."

"Ditto." I planted a smooch in her hair.

"I'd never seen a naked guy before, but…you know. You're beautiful, and you're mysterious and dreamy," she sighed, which made me smile wide—a genuine toothy grin. "You have a huge heart, and you're kind and sweet. And every time you'd touch me…_Still_, every time you touch me, which is why I was being weird before…when I smell you, feel you close…" She was giving me a hard-on without _touching_ me, and that's the beauty of marrying a writer of smutty fanfiction. "I forget my name, and I have to have you inside me…" I felt her nose on my neck. "I have to have your body on top of mine…because I need you. It's not about want…I physically ache for you."

"Me, too." I swallowed. "I try to show you…since I don't have the gift of words like you do."

"I feel it," she whispered, ghosting her lips up to my ear.

Out of breath, I tilted my head away from her. "We going to-to this prom or what?"

Her cheeks were pink, flushed again when she fell back to wave at her face. Maybe my predicament wasn't as noticeable, but my cock was so fucking stiff…and I was frustrated because of all the things I couldn't change.

Most of all, I hated that I made her cry, no matter what point I was trying to make. Bringing that shit up was stupid, trying to handle it tonight—which is_ her_ night—was dumb. I shouldn't have even made that plan. It just weighs on my mind and makes me sick to my stomach—the thought of someone trying to ruin what we have.

"Look, you're my little sexpot, all right? I love to be rollin' around the sheets with you, too, and—" I lost my train of thought when she stared at me wide-eyed. "I can be a dick, you know that I can. I'm sorry I ruined your night, but I promise…fucking graduation, I won't say a word. I'll leave my phone at home, and we'll do whatever you want." I nodded. "I know you're going to forgive me…and I don't know how many more times you _will_ forgive me, but I promise to try harder…not to be a dick."

"Thank you," she giggled. "But this is just a stupid school dance."

"Right," I agreed. "Maggie, but you're eighteen—"

"I know how old I am." Anything that has to do with her age hits a sore spot; the claws were suddenly out. "What I_ don't_ know is—"

"_Why_ I bring it up?" I hedged. "It's because…I've been eighteen. I've been twenty-one and twenty-five. I've been to my prom." I pointed to myself. "I'd give you the world if I could—"

"I don't want the world. I just want you." She placed her hand on my thigh.

My wife was acting like a Sour Patch Kid.

_First sour and then sweet._

"Did you drink?" I sniffed her immediate area just to see, but I didn't smell any booze. "Anyway, bottom line, there are going to be things in your life you won't experience because…you settled down young. Let me dance with you—one, two songs. We'll have some nasty punch—"

"You'll be a jerk to everyone but me?"

"If…that'll make you happy." I was confused.

"You're hotter when you're mean, obnoxious, like the way you act when you're working."

"Oh." I nodded, but I'd never tell her that she's impossibly sexier when she's angry. "You know…we also have to start planning a wedding, a real one."

"Maybe next year, not this summer."

"Whenever you want." I was going to appease her until she left the fucking car.

"You don't care? Why I wanna wait?" she asked, a wicked glint in her eyes.

"No…we're already married. I'd love to do it again and again, though." I smiled, going for those lips.

But while I thought my words—what I said—would score me points, she frowned.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**M**_aggie's prom didn't have a theme like mine did back in the day.

Unless a bunch of vapid, teenage girls staring with hatred in their eyes is considered a theme. The same shit happened…all those days ago, but I didn't want to compare, although I felt all eyes on me.

Once I had Maggie in my arms, and under that disco ball, she rested her head against my chest—finally felt relaxed in my arms.

And I was happy . . .

I didn't know how long we'd stay, but at least I could say I'd gone to her prom—I fulfilled my end of the bargain. "You're beautiful," I whispered.

"Can we…um," she giggled staring up at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh!" Sister Mary-whoever came over to break us apart.

Shocked and surprised by the movement, of a nun flying at me with a ruler in her hand, I held onto Maggie tighter. "Beat it, Sister."

"Leave room for the Holy Ghost," she insisted.

I showed her my wedding band. "He can take a powder—this is my wife."

The nun ran back to her flock, and Maggie continued to giggle in my arms. "You're the best."

"I'm doin' good…at being a jerk?" My hands snuck down to palm her ass.

"Most definitely. Now, I can't wait 'til graduation."

I smiled, counting my blessings as we swayed from side to side; we hardly moved our feet at all.

When the song ended, I didn't take my eyes off her, wanting to follow her lead. "We can go now." She made for the exit.

"Hold up!" I pulled her back.

Maggie looked happy, content, but something was still off. "Tonight was supposed to be special for you."

"It is," I said.

"No." She rolled her eyes. "I thought—" She paused, and, regardless of the fast-paced tune playing, I placed her arms around my neck. "Since this morning, I had this perfect fantasy…It played on a constant loop in my head all day."

"Tell me." I could still make it come true, I thought.

"We were going to take pictures…get here, but we'd be so overcome by passion, we couldn't stay. We'd run to the limo—"

I turned her chin, so she'd look at me. "And…?"

"We'd kiss and kiss until our lips hurt." She grinned.

"I still don't see a problem with that," I laughed.

"Then—when we got to the hotel—you'd slow us down." She wove her fingers into my hair. "You'd…pull out all the stops and be as romantic as you always are, sweet…You'd pour me a glass of champagne…"

I placed a kiss on her cheek. "And?"

Maggie stopped dancing to stare up at me. "I wouldn't drink it," she whispered. "But…you'd insist." She tore her eyes away. "But then you'd realize _why_ I couldn't drink…which would…take the pressure off me actually having to say the words—"

"What?" My heart skidded to a stop and then sped up, like I'd run a marathon. "You…what?" I pulled away, but my eyes locked to hers. "How…?" I knew exactly what she was hinting at. "W-what...?"

Maggie actually laughed. "I wish…you could see your face right now. But, wow." She blew out a breath. "I knew it'd be okay to tell you. I knew you'd be excited. It'd be a surprise—"

"Yeah…" I nodded, my mind kind of blank for the moment. "You're on birth control."

She shook her head. "No…you were so concerned about it, because you knew _what was best_ for me." Maggie did a piss-poor imitation of my voice. "I didn't do it for your family, or necessarily for you…although I hope you're happy—"

"Ecstatic but concerned," I admitted, refusing to cry at the _fucking_ prom. "Whoa…can we leave?" I asked, out of breath again.

"Yes." Maggie was giddy.

While we trailed toward the exit, I started laughing. "You told my mother and then she told everyone but me?" Everyone's odd behavior made perfect sense now.

"Pretty much." She nodded. "I love Bella, but…It was bad enough Kylie knew."

"When did you find out?" I wondered how long she'd kept it from me.

"That's another thing." She stopped from getting into the limo.

"Get in." My tone demanded, and she followed through. "What the fuck?" I asked, pulling her face toward me. "Fucking kiss me." I tried my best not to be overzealous while Maggie was trying to be tentative. "Talk to me—the Waldorf!" I shouted to the driver.

"My God, Santino…calm down. You want some champagne…?" She gestured to the bar.

"No…I want you to start talking—"

"You wanna know everything, but tell me you're really happy first?" She was nervous again.

"Are you kidding me?" I wiped the corners of my eyes. "Yes...I'm very, very fucking happy. Once again...I'm-I'm speechless." I was in shock, to be honest. "But please start talking."

She palmed her stomach. "It's early…like Baked-in-Bermuda early."

I placed my hand on top of hers. "Okay, but we were in Bermuda...almost two months ago. It's not _that_ early."

"I haven't been to a doctor…I just found out yesterday, and if it weren't for Kylie, I might not know today." She chuckled without humor.

"Explain that, too, please." My words were calm, which totally betrayed the feelings I had going on inside of me. I held Maggie in my arms, and I stiffened, trying to hold back a scream, one of joy, lunacy or whatever.

"I thought I might be, but I was…embarrassed to buy the test? They're like condoms and duct tape, just horribly awkward for the cashier and you…"

Hearing her say that snapped me back to the present. "Yeah, but that's when you tell your _husband_ to get his ass to Rite-Aid, not his sister," I barked out a laugh, still on cloud nine.

But then Maggie turned to face me, wearing this seriously grim expression. "Santino—" she gripped my hands tightly "—I-I didn't want you to get all happy when…I might not have been pregnant, and it's still early, so I'm _still_ scared, and you slept at Eclipse last night..." She trailed off in a whisper.

"I was working late," I explained. "Then I had shit to handle this morning, and I had all these plans for tonight to settle, which meant I needed to be in Manhattan. Catching a few hours sleep there made sense." I kissed her palm. "Maggie, I would have come straight home. I would have _rushed_ home." It broke my heart—even in this glorious moment—that she'd gone through it alone. "You took the test by yourself—"

"I didn't," she giggled. "I didn't do any of it by myself. Kylie and Gio came over last night…she picked up a test, and they were my moral support, so I was okay…until I woke up this morning." Her eyes widened. "I just felt so lonely—"

"Again...why didn't you call me?" I truly couldn't believe how fast I could feel like dog shit again. "I would'a dropped everything—would have came right home."

"I wanted your mom," she said so low. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay…but if you wanted me…I would have been there, too." I groaned, squeezing her to me. "Maggie, it could be anything. You know that. Whenever you need or want me home, all you have to do is call."

"I hate bothering you—"

"Bullshit." I chuckled. "Something's up, and I don't care what it is, I want you to call me."

She nodded, staring down at our hands. "I'm sorry...Bella was awesome, though. She got to our house quick, but I think Kylie couldn't keep a secret."

"My mother was probably waiting like a rabid dog for you to call her," I laughed. "_If_ she knew beforehand."

"She picked up her cell even faster. The first ring!"

"I bet…but now everyone knows?" I asked.

"I was...emotional this morning, but your mom was all, 'Let's go get your corsage and pick up your dress!' Like a maniac…because tonight had to be special, and then Kylie met up with us, which turned the morning into a shopping spree. It took my mind off it just a little. All day today, though. I've either been very happy or close to tears. I'm...I go from being crazy happy to scared. Bella says that's normal, but..." she sighed.

I nodded her along, rubbing her back now. "So, your mother doesn't know?"

Maggie smiled. "I think that's why your mother called my mom…but I freaked." Her eyes found me again. "I couldn't tell her, or let her be around all the people who know, when _you_ didn't even know yet . . . Just like Kylie told your mom, Gio told his father!" She grimaced. "All of which created this domino effect…but I think Aro held off from telling your father until you left the club. And then your father rushed home…He got there before you, you know?"

"What?" I laughed. "No, he wasn't." I put the glass partition down. "You mind if we stop back there?"

She shrugged. "Now that you know…the pressure's off."

"Dude, go back to my father's!" I shouted out, closing that window. "Finish telling me." I still wanted to know everything.

"Your dad came home shouting about it…while Kylie was doing my makeup, and then your mom hit him and made him hide downstairs until he could shut up about it…But every time he sees me, he looks at me like I'm about to give birth."

I started cracking up.

"Then you got there…and I waved while you ran to take a shower and get dressed…What else?" She tapped her chin, which is just an adorable Maggie trait. "Jordan knew before Damion; meanwhile, she asked about my birth plan…which…I ignored her." Maggie waved a hand. "Damion told me about some clinic near NYU, how my life didn't have to be over, talking about abortion, which got me upset…and then I ran to put my dress on, and you know the rest. And you have the worst timing in the world to drop your bombs on me. And your family only keeps secrets if it's illegal . . . Santino, I'm exhausted. Between last night, hardly getting any sleep, and then this morning...and getting ready for the prom, everyone knowing and then being afraid them telling you before I could...I'm really tired, like, mentally and physically." Her head came to rest on my shoulder.

"I'm…sorry. That sounds stressful. I'm exhausted just hearing all about it." I wore a smile and twirled my finger around a lock of her hair. "Fuck the hotel. We'll just go home, I'll run you a bath, and you can relax."

"Okay," she actually agreed to that, but not before we stopped at my parents' house.

"I cannot believe those motherfuckers kept that from me!"

"I asked them to!" she shouted. "They were…well, they didn't respect _all_ my wishes, but they didn't put a sign on the lawn either...That one…getting to tell you? You'd wanna hear it from someone else?"

"No one else," I whispered. "But…I do wish you'd told me last night, before you even took the test. This is a good thing—a great-fucking-thing. I can't imagine why I wouldn't be the first person you shared it with. I share the bad with you. I try to be as honest as I can—"

"It got out of hand," she admitted. "I didn't want to get your hopes up, and I only planned on your mother knowing…and Kylie."

"And Gio, which means they all know over there, and if Aro knows that means he told my uncle." I snorted. "But I don't give a fuck who knows, you know? Are you happy? Are you okay?" I appraised her, a million different thoughts and worries running through my mind.

"I'm fine—nervous yet excited. I'm more tired than usual, and I was eating like a hog. That's why I thought it was PMS, with me gobbling the comfort foods. I was crying my eyes out because Nemo's mom and siblings died?"

I furrowed my brow. "He lives in the neighborhood? That pizzeria on Fifth?"

"No, the fish…in _Finding Nemo_?"

I didn't have a reply, so I just smiled.

"Kylie pieced it together, but not as PMS. She shouted, 'Dude, you're fucking pregnant!' But before that, I didn't think anything," she giggled. "I was actually disappointed. My period, which I was supposed to start getting last month again, never came. And I thought it was coming this month, that all my efforts were for nothing because I was PMSing," she sighed as we'd pulled up to my parents' house.

"You don't mind?" I jerked my thumb out the window, as I had this overwhelming need to speak to my father, to be around my family, because I found myself emotional, too.

"Not at all. Santino, I was…fine. I just needed to tell you. I _am_ fine with this._ I_ wanted this. I wanted this so much; I prayed every night…to God, the moon," she started crying. "I even wished on a star."

"Please…" My own eyes pricked with tears. "You're wonderful, and I love you, and I hope our baby looks like you." I crashed my lips to hers to cry into her mouth. "This is the greatest gift, the best thing...I love you." Once more, words failed me, but I was so happy.

"I knew you wouldn't be mad." She wiped my tears away.

"Fuck, no." I kissed her gently. "I'm so far from mad." I opened the car door. "Mad…" I spat, like my wife was crazy. "Come on." I helped her out.

We smiled and laughed all the way up the walk, only for my father to tear the door open before we got there.

"You know," he said.

I beamed. "I do."

"You-_fucking_-know!" He jumped into the air and lunged at me. "You're going to be a father, and I hope you have ten little fuckers just like you!" Dad started placing kisses on my cheeks, while I heard Maggie giggling close by.

I laughed as if someone was tickling me because I couldn't remember a time where I was happier. "All right…All right!" We were on the grass, and while I was in the best mood, this bordered on gay…

"Get off him!" Mom kicked Dad in the ass. "Come here!" When she widened her arms, she let the highest-pitched screech I ever fucking heard. It hurt my ears. "It was so hard not to tell you!"

I looked back at Maggie and stole her hand. "I…" I didn't know what to say to my parents, either.

They already knew, and yet I had to come back here.

Mom wiped her eyes—'cause she was crying, again, and said, "Get in the house…before we don't _have to_ tell the Sullivans."

Dad winced, taking a wary glance up the block. "You're a little thing…big sweaters, you know? It'll buy you months," he told my wife and then placed his arm around her. "Did Bella ever tell you? She had all sections…all our children had big heads…" He rambled on and on, whisking Maggie into the house.

"Santino!" she called for me.

"I'm here," I promised, shutting the outside world away—closing the door.

Then I turned just in time to see Kylie. "Mom…don't show her that."

We were all in the foyer, my mother slightly pulling her pants down to show Maggie her scar. "Please," I pleaded.

"Dad said she wanted to see it." She shrugged.

"No, she didn't." I knew that wasn't true.

If Mom got into telling her own pregnancy stories…how they were the best days of her life, and yet nightmarish...

I didn't want to think about what would happen. Maggie would get scared, more so than she already is, and I found myself acting a little superstitious.

"You okay?" I asked Maggie.

She nodded. "I'm fine," she whispered. "You forget. I'm around them more than you these days." She hopped up to try and kiss me, but I helped her out by slouching. "I didn't say that to make you feel bad. I'm just used to...the crazy," she laughed.

"Whatever way…it's okay." I didn't care about that. "They _are_ crazy…but no family could love you more." That was suddenly abundantly clear.

"I know," she said. "This baby's gonna be lucky."

"Fuck, yeah." I squashed her to me again. "Everything's gonna be great. You'll see, so don't be nervous about anything." I'd be nervous for the both of us.

"Come inside!" Dad shouted.

"We're inside," I laughed, although we were still by the front door. "No matter what, we'll be okay…so we _can_ be happy. I want us to be happy."

She blew out a shaky breath. "Okay…and we'll be okay if…?" I knew what she was asking.

"Of course," I swore on my life; I'd make sure everything worked out. "We'll make a doctor's appointment right away. I'll make sure they see you first thing Monday, and I'll…go to lunch with your father this week—"

"No…this," she held her stomach, "I don't want to hide behind this. As long as you know, and we're okay, I don't care about them." She wrapped her arms around me.

"Good." I found what she said to be a great thing. "Then…I'll make dinner and we'll invite everyone over? Like last time?"

"Not like last time," she giggled.

"Youse gonna come and eat or what?" Dad shouted.

We joined my family at the table. They'd already started eating, but Dad raised a toast to us, and then Kylie got emotional. All of which made Dad end his speech by explaining to Kylie that pregnancy was as contagious as the chicken pox…

He told her to stay away from Maggie.

"You're so ignorant sometimes, but…God, I love you." Mom landed a loud smooch right on his lips, and I whistled at that.

_It was cute._

The room felt emptier than usual, since there were quite a few faces missing from the crowd—my grandfather, my uncle, my aunt, and all my cousins; even fucking Aro was missing—yet it didn't matter.

I was on top of the world; however, I kept glancing over to my brother who hadn't uttered a word to me. And it fucking irked me, that he couldn't be happy for me, just this once. It was disappointing, and I kept burying my nose in Maggie's hair. She ate, while I couldn't eat a bite, because I kept wondering what horrific circumstance would rip this from me—this happiness I felt.

When dinner was through, I hardly let my mother lift a finger. I was antsy, couldn't sit still, but I kept a smile on my face.

"You'll be fine." Dad took a pastry box out of the fridge. "You think I knew what I was doing? You were a week old, and I was taking pictures of you while you were in tracksuits. I'd put the guinea gold around your neck, and you'd look like a little wise guy with a cigarette hanging from your mouth…Granted, it wasn't lit, but you get it." He rolled his eyes.

"Thanks," I said, closing the dishwasher.

"You were fun as a kid…you always talked back." He winked. "And I gave you wine this one time…and you threw up all in the hallway of the old house. Do you remember that?"

I nodded, since I remembered clear as day. It was actually harder to forget.

"Look, you're going to stress over everything—every-little-thing, but it doesn't matter," he laughed.

"What?" I wanted him to elaborate.

"Like…when you were born, Mom worried about Huggies vs. Pampers, but by the time Kylie was born, baby girl rocked the Walmart brand. And things are going to happen that are outta your control. Most times? You'll be winging it. And if you can remember all the way back…then you probably remember helping Mom with your sister."

"I do." I nodded. "I had to…so she had…help some nights."

The things I remember would probably shock my parents. I'd never tell them. Especially since I don't resent them for any of it.

My whole life I helped take care of someone. I used to talk a hyper Damion down when he was on one of his Dad kicks. Our father wasn't around, and my brother had all these questions, because he knew we had a dad, but…Dad wasn't around. He was locked up, and no one told us anything, except that he was sick.

Our mother was very sad, and always tired, during that time. I'd make sure Dame had clean clothes, that we got to the bus on time, that he had his PB&J because he wouldn't eat anything else…

Truth be told...I had a lot of ill feelings toward my father when he came home. I didn't understand anything, blinded by being kept in the dark, but looking back with all the knowledge I have now...

I can't imagine what my mother must have been going through; however, she could have maybe held it together better. I don't know. Regardless of where Dad was, she still had two kids to look after.

And my mother shut down.

She'd do what she could, and I knew that. Even back then, I knew that, so I did whatever I had to help her.

When Kylie was born...Once again, I'd do whatever I could to help Mom, which included caring for Dame as well.

Dad was at his height during that time.

I know that now, but when you're a little kid, and you see your mother running ragged after three children…and every single time your father is home, you'd see your parents fighting.

They used to argue over the same issues. I'd always agree with Mom since I constantly wondered why work was more important than us, and then there were nights when he didn't come home at all.

As the oldest you step up. Sacrifices are made, and while—I was still a kid, so being a brat was inevitable—I tried not to whine too much.

And I grew up a lot faster than any of my friends.

"_Mos_t nights." He looked into my eyes. "I wasn't perfect. I missed a lot, but you should learn from my mistakes…if you can't_ forgive_ them." He shrugged. "Ed was a horrible father." He shook his head. "My mother was gone, and I was sent to live with Nanny…I never had a father. But your mother wouldn't let me get away with…anything like that, like being too-too horrible." He chuckled. "I don't know what I'm trying to say here . . . I've loved you, your brother, and Kylie since the minutes youse were born. I wanted to be _better_ for you guys…" He turned away from me.

"Dad…" I reached for his shoulder, and he leaned back into my hand. "I…have no problems with the way I was raised. I'm not damaged. I _was_ a loudmouth, whiny kid, who hated when you'd ride me. Fuck, you were always on my ass." I chuckled. "You're _still_ riding my tail, but I don't really hate you for it…I know you want what's best for me and that's the reason why…you do what you do. You want us all happy and safe, and…secure, and the three of us are…different, so you try to give each of us what we need. All of which I can only_ hope_ to provide my child."

"That was beautiful…"

I turned to see Mom crying just outside the kitchen. "That's the truth," I mumbled.

Dad nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." But I wasn't truly troubled about the parenting aspect of having a baby. I wanted to scoop Maggie up into my arms and hide her in some remote corner of the earth. Just so nothing could ever bother us.

"You'll learn to deal as things come your way," Dad said. "Don't worry about the future that's far from right now. Focus on getting through the pregnancy, and everything that comes with that. 'Cause if you can't make it through the preliminaries, you're fucked!"

I smiled but stopped just as fast when Dame entered, yet Dad kept talking.

"It seems…more real than when you thought Katie was..." Dad winced.

"You're right," I admitted. "With Katie, I was in the room waiting for her push, and…" It didn't seem as real as this, as exciting; meanwhile, my father was correct. Maggie and I have a long way to go. "Maybe it was because…I don't know." It was definitely hard to explain.

Dad grinned. "I get it. Can't explain it, but I get it. It's probably because I see Maggie every day…and she's gonna be a momma..."

"What's up?" Dame sighed, grabbing a cookie from the pastry box.

He stood right next to me, and I had all these questions for him, but I didn't say anything. I bit my tongue, hoping he'll come around when he's ready, and that's all I can really hope for when it comes to Dame.

"You'll be a good father," Dame whispered.

"You think I ruined her life." It wasn't a question.

"Ruined?" Dad asked.

Dame looked up to the ceiling. "Marriage is one thing, but now you and Maggie will be tied together forever. You'll have her—"

"That's the problem?" I snorted. "Aren't we past this?" Regardless of how much I wanted to ring his neck, just for being a prick, I kept my voice down.

"She'll have _you_, too. You know? You're going to have your own family…" Damion was getting stuck, choking on his words.

Dad pinched his cheek. "Don't worry. You'll always be Sonny's firstborn..." His tone was humorous, yet I could tell Dad was uncomfortable—upset over something. "But last I checked you were _my_ son."

Damion didn't reply. He just stuffed another cookie into his full mouth.

I laughed. "Remember when Kylie was born, and Dame was so jealous, he'd climb into the crib with her—pretend to be a baby?" I looked to Dad.

"Oh!" he shouted. "I don't know if you remember, but I remember having a talk—a very weird…conversation about why Kylie could breast-feed and Damion couldn't."

I winced. "Yeah…that was…" I was embarrassed for my brother, but it was only us. "Relax." I squeezed his shoulder.

"Fucking…naked wrestling!" Dad hollered.

"Naked wrestling!" I slapped my hand to his while we both cracked up.

"It's…still my favorite sport," Dame said.

"Fuck…us, too." I shook my head.

Dad placed his arm around Dame. "You were a weird kid, man, but the cutest little fucking thing…" He kissed Damion's cheek.

Damion wiped at his face, his expression kind of stoic. "Yeah, well…We're gonna take off. I guess your plans for later are canceled?"

I nodded. "That's the furthest thing from my mind." But it really wasn't.

"You guys had plans?" Dad asked.

"Drinks," I sighed. "That's it. I wanted to party with Maggie, but…"

"Oh, your partying days are over!" Dad punched my shoulder.

"Your partying days didn't stop when you had kids." Dame stared at him.

"But…Sonny's going to be better than me. He'll learn from my mistakes," he told him but locked eyes with me. "Since I know, I've already explained that…he won't want to miss a thing. From the baby's first smile, to the first steps, to…fucking Kindergarten—all of that is more important than the biggest, greatest party ever."

"I've done enough…partying." That was the fucking truth. "I won't miss anything."

"Eh…you might, but don't beat yourself up over it." Dad winked. "Like I said, no matter what you do, you're going to make mistakes. You just have to take them as they are, learn from them, and when you have your second and third kid…you'll already know. All that matters is if your child is happy."

Damion kept looking from Dad to me. "You never know, though…With your track record, your kid might be born with slanted eyes like the Korean down the block." He guffawed. "Christ…Imagine?"

"'The fuck's the matter with you?" Dad slapped the back of his head.

"It was a joke!" Dame exclaimed, rubbing his hair down.

I knew my brother was teasing, but that was hitting below the belt, along with everything else he's done . . .

"Can I talk to you outside a second?" I asked, antsy and angry, frustrated, because I just wanted to shake him and ask him what his deal truly was.

"No," Dad said. "Dame, go say goodbye to Mom and—"

"Two minutes." I cut him off, staring at my brother.

Dame scoffed. "What? You wanna hit me?" He stepped closer to me. "Because of a stupid joke? Why's everyone in this family so petty? Sonny, you wanna hit me? Go—" His eyes had fallen away from me when I bopped him in his jaw. "Fuck—" But I wasn't done, and I got him in the eye before Dad managed to pull me back.

"Jesus…" My father squeezed my biceps. "Can't you see? He's scared...probably scared of losing you," he whispered, and my gaze fell to Dame, and then I kicked his foot.

"Get up," I said.

"You…knocked him good." Dad's voice was frantic as he kneeled next to Dame. "Wake up…" He slapped his cheek.

"Fuck!" Dame held his head.

Dad let out a breath while my chest was still heaving. "Thank God…get up," he said.

"You probably gave me a concussion!" Dame kicked at my legs, but I stepped back.

Dad yanked Dame to his feet. "Stop whining."

"No, he thinks he can just—"

"I'll fucking do it again," I promised. "Step off, because I don't need your negative energy or your jealousy, or whatever the fuck else your problem is," I ranted. "We're happy, and we're going to have a baby, and there's nothing you can say or do to change that!"

"Everything okay?" Mom asked, and when I turned, I saw that they were all in the doorway, just watching.

"He just—" Dame started but stopped when Dad pinched his side. "Oww…nothing."

Mom made eye contact with all three of us before ushering Maggie, my sister, Peto, and Jordan away from the kitchen. "Kill each other tomorrow. Not today," she scolded.

Dame scoffed. "I'm gonna have a black eye…my face is gonna balloon up!" His expression was painful, which filled me with glee.

"Why?" Mom asked, had caught that.

"He fell," Dad said. "It's just a little bump…"

When my mother left the room, we all relaxed as much as we would again.

"You just always gotta hit somebody to knock them down. I hope you don't beat your kids," Damion started laughing.

"Both of youse…knock it off." Dad was exasperated. "You were outta line, and I would'a bopped you one, too. And you…" he stared at me "—be easy. I don't know. He doesn't mean half the shit he says…thinks it's funny. I don't know. Sonny, you know youse two are gonna meet for lunch two days from now, and youse'll laugh about this."

"Maybe not _two_ _days_ from now…" Dame trailed off. "Whatever…congratulations. I meant what I said, about you being a good dad. I don't know how much my words are worth to you or _why_ you care—"

"You're my fucking brother. I do care!" I didn't know why that was so hard for him to believe. "And…no matter how many kids we do have, your status isn't going to change. But I need you to stop fighting me…stop pushing my buttons and stop fucking with me every chance you get, just because of the way _you_ feel. Just be happy for me!"

"I am." His reply was short, and I waited expectantly for him to say more.

He didn't.

"You wanna do me a favor?" I didn't care if Dad was right here.

"What…?" Dame winced, feeling around his cheekbone.

"Tonight…at like one, Amelia's going to be at Twilight—"

"Whoa!" Dad put his hands up, and I pushed them down.

"Let him settle this," I said.

Dame scrunched his nose. "Why is she going to be there?" He blinked. "I think I lost a contact. That sucks." He looked by his feet.

I sighed. "I invited her…She accepted since…all the shit she's doing is to get closer to me for whatever reason. Handle that, please."

"I don't approve," Dad said.

I grinned. "I'm asking Dame, not you…I have all the pieces in place. Nothing will happen to Dame."

"I can take care of myself," my brother laughed.

"You'll be facing—what's now technically a part of your past—and I know how hard that is for you." I waited to see a reaction, but he didn't agree with or deny my words.

"We'll go," Dad replied. "Your mother and I…she could get outta this house, have a drink to celebrate. Mom'll talk to her."

"Mom?" Dame laughed. "Mommy?"

"No, Bella, _my wife_…yes, Mommy." Dad rolled his eyes. "Your mother can be a scary bitch when she wants to be. You two go—take your loves, go home and relax. I'll handle it." He pursed his lips. "Some…bullshit."

"No…" Dame shook his head. "I'll go, and I promise to settle it."

"She doesn't fear you," I said.

"She will." He nodded.

"She'll fuck with your head," Dad whispered. "I don't want you—"

"Sonny's right," Dame admitted. "I'm a man…you know? Let me…handle this, please."

As hard as it was for my father, he let Damion go—technically and metaphorically speaking.

He left with Jordan about ten minutes later, and I convinced myself we'd be fine.

And it killed me that no matter what he did or what he does…I couldn't hate him. My brother's gotten away with a lot—fucking murder, too—but just like Dad, I couldn't hold a grudge against him. I want so many things for my brother, and learning to clean his own messes is one of them.

But why does Damion continue to try and hurt me?

Why does he lie all-the-fucking time?

Every time we talk—for this or that reason—all I hear are excuses.

He's jealous of my unborn child now?

Nothing made sense, and all I wanted was my brother back. I wanted us to be the way we used to be—no secrets, we used to actually hang out, and we had each others backs.

But now . . .

He was there for Maggie and me when I had the coke problem. I know he was truly there for my wife, but at least he showed up, did me a solid.

I've been looking out for him my whole life, but now it all means nothing?

I just don't understand.

While I was ecstatic about the baby, I was terribly heartbroken over Dame.

"You were right about a lot of things today." Dad sipped his scotch. "Personal, matters of the heart, actually get us into a lot more trouble than money, or any-fucking-other-thing," he laughed. "Love, too…It has a lot to do with pride, you know? Passionate fuckers like us are ready to die for pride, honor, and love…most of all, loyalty. I'd like to say, 'keep it all separated,' but you can't, no matter how hard you try."

"Yeah…I just don't want to go to the mattresses for this. You taught me a long, long time ago about picking battles. This isn't one of them." I poked the counter. "I respect that you're not worried about it, and in a sense I'm not that concerned either. But…for the past two months, I've been fighting tooth and nail…trying to make up for that shit, the coke?"

"You shouldn't. Now, addiction is a battle in itself. You need to focus on that, having your head, doing right by Maggie…" He wouldn't look at me. "I never want to see you hurt. When you were shot, that was my hell—the worst possible thing imaginable to me. So, throwing you that beating…I know we never truly talked about it—"

"You did the right thing," I admitted. "I would have done the same."

"For whatever reason, you respond to a fist more than words, and your hands say more than your mouth. You're my bruiser." He smiled and hit my shoulder. "And I knew…from when you were a kid that you'd respond to that. Your mother would punish you for the same shit constantly. Once I raised my hand…and I hated having to do that, but you pushed my buttons more than Damion and Kylie…and I know why." He smirked at me. "Now you're…amazing, an amazing man, a smart man—"

"Dad…" He was going to make me cry, and I swallowed my tears.

"Always so tough." He pushed me. "I've made mistakes with all of youse. You know? Dame acted out this year, and I pray to God it's over, but he was a really good child. You gave me hell, and now? I hardly worry about you. You know who you are because I spent years telling you, making sure you acted right. Damion needs me now…he needs me to be understanding. And I need to make up for not protecting him…when he needed it the most."

"I get it." I cleared my throat. "I totally do."

"I'm glad…I mean, we're not so different. I was the little brother once, but your uncle," he sighed, "he's always been just a little bit of an asshole. These days, he has no steam left. He's seen the bigger picture, but back in the day? The mountains of shit I had to dig him out of…and—" he lowered his voice "—I can't tell you how many times I almost killed him. Because if anyone was going to clip him, it was going to be me…on my terms, and before anyone else could . . . But I never did. I'd think about being a teen and how he stepped up, and then he went through some shit. You know the stories."

"But he's your brother and you love him, and you'd never hurt him—"

"No," Dad laughed. "I do love him—always have and always will—exactly like you and Dame. But…everybody needs a beating sometimes."

"_GoodFellas_." I chuckled.

"Oh, shit…yeah." He nodded.

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts. **_


	46. Stay the Same

**Stephenie**** Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd**** by ****HollettLA****.**

**Oh, poor MISUNDERSTOOD Dame...I hope this chapter clears up a few things for you guys. I mean, I couldn't JUST S.P.E.L.L it out for you guys...although I did try...but here's hoping it's all plain as day for everyone! LOL. **

**Also, many of you misunderstood when I said we'd be approaching a Dame/Sonny arc. Sorry for the lack of Skip/Bebella. I promise to deliver them in spades SOON enough. We're coming to the end of Riders, but we still have quite a few chaps to go. **

**Thank you for reading and leaving your kind words. **

**Enjoy!**

***Immediately follows CH45***

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Forty-Six: Stay the Same**

**Damion POV**

_**W**_hen Jordan and I left my parents' house, I was in a sour mood and my vision was blurry in my left eye—having lost a contact when Sonny decked me.

_That prick._

Still, as we walked up the avenues toward the subway, I had this nagging feeling in my gut.

I had more to say . . . to Sonny.

I had this rage that I needed to get out . . . to Sonny.

"Are you hungry?" I asked Jordan, tightening my grasp on her hand before bringing it to my lips for a lingering kiss.

"Are you kidding?" she laughed. "With all the food we just ate—"

"How 'bout…dessert and coffee?" I hedged, wanting to avoid heading back to Manhattan.

She stopped us from walking. "I've been quiet long enough—trying not pry. But what's going on?" She gestured to my face, grimacing. "You're bruising already and…acting weird." Her gaze fell away from me. "You can…talk to me. I noticed that you acted this way the last time we visited. Is it me? Is it—"

"It's not you," I said, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Never you…" I didn't exactly know what I was feeling to be honest.

Confusion—not making any sense of my emotions—has always been a problem of mine.

"Can we go to the diner and just talk? You're not hungry; we'll have coffee." Heaving a heavy sigh, I hoped she'd agree. It's not too late in the evening, and sitting somewhere for a little while would help me get myself in check.

"Of course." She nodded, leaning in to wrap her arms around me.

I placed my lips to her hair, only knowing one thing.

There was only one thing I knew for sure. "You know I love you, right?"

"I—"

"Relax." I rubbed her back roughly to get her to calm down, _if_ she was nervous.

She looked up to me with confusion coloring her expression. "I know…I lo—"

"Good." I grinned, letting out a breath.

Jordan placed her hand on my cheek. "I wish I could just take a peek at your brain or something—know what's up."

I turned, keeping her hand in mine while I started to pull her toward Third Avenue. "Let's go to the diner."

"Are you gonna talk? Or, just stare at me and drink coffee? 'Cause, for that, we can head back to campus." She poked my side.

It made me smile. "We'll see."

"What, we'll see?" she shouted.

"Shut up." I chuckled.

"You're gonna make me?" She pinched my ass and ran away.

A smile stayed on my face as I sprinted after her. She'd stopped at the corner, and I squeezed her as tight as I could.

"Uncle!" she rasped. "Can't breathe!"

I eased up, just a little bit. "If you're not hungry, there's the park?" I thought about pushing her on the swings. The sun had recently set but the weather was mild, nice.

She giggled. "You can be such a little boy sometimes…"

I let go of her because her words were like a kick in the balls. "Yeah…I never grew up."

"Cullen, I was kidding."

"But you're right." I took her hand again to cross the street.

"You know what's weird? Trying to get used to calling you Damion. If I call you Cullen, like ten people will look my way." She was trying to lighten the mood—which is something she always does—and it's greatly appreciated.

"Call me whatever you want," I said, opening the door to the diner. A hostess greeted us, and I held up two fingers. She led us to a booth in the corner before dropping the menus and taking off toward the front.

"This is nice…" Jordan looked around.

"It's…just a diner." I shrugged.

"You know what I don't understand about you?"

"Here we go…" I slouched back, laughing. "What you don't understand could probably fill a book, but go ahead and lay it on me." I knew it was coming, as it seems _all_ women have to try and analyze me at one point or another.

She blinked twice and her mouth was stuck in this 'o' shape. "What the fuck, bro?"

I didn't reply. A waitress had stopped at our table. "Two coffees…half & half. That's it for now."

When she walked away, Jordan said, "I wanted tea." She didn't wait for my reply. "I'm kidding…fucking lighten up already. My God. We left your parents' house, so you don't have to be all…defense mechanism-ed out. You know? And what I was gonna say before...?"

"What?" I asked.

"I was going to tell you that you're gorgeous—impossibly beautiful for a man. You're practically a fucking genius, okay? Your family has money, which means you probably don't know a thing about what it's like to struggle…They seem like great people, who love you a lot." She grabbed my hand.

"I don't—" I stopped talking when the server brought the coffees, but when she left, our beverages were easily forgotten. "I—" I was stuck for an answer; I didn't expect her to say what she did.

Jordan traced her fingertips along the back of my hand, waiting patiently for me. "You can also be incredibly sweet and kind," she whispered. "And you're loads of fun to be with. You're hilarious—"

"Not everyone gets my humor," was my dry reply.

"I do…" She smiled. "But…tell me what's so wrong…tell me what happened that made you this…like, wad of insecurity and self-loathing? I don't understand that. You have a great life—great opportunities at your disposal. You say you love me, but…you hate yourself." Jordan let go of my hand to fix our coffees. "You want sugar?"

"Yeah…" I pushed my sleeves up. "Um, look, I could tell you my life story…I could bitch and moan about the things that've happened. But I don't want to. When I'm with you…I know this is going to sound cheesy, but it feels like anything's possible? You see me the way you do, and I don't want to change that. But…I'll tell you what's wrong right now…if that's all right?" I sat up straight to hold her hand again.

She pushed a mug toward me. "Whatever you wanna say…I'm listening."

I nodded. "You know Maggie?"

She grinned. "The baby having the baby…sorry." She rolled her eyes.

"Don't apologize," I laughed.

"Babies are awesome and exciting, though, right?" she asked. "The way they smell, they make my ovaries do jumping jacks—"

"You want kids?" I scrunched my nose, having always thought Jordan's first love was medicine.

"Well, I'd like to have_ a_ child…when the time's right. I don't know about having more than one." She shook her head. "_You_ don't want kids." It wasn't a question.

"It's not something I've ever given much thought."

"That's a bullshit answer. Everyone gives it a_ little_ thought," she giggled. "I bet you'll be an awesome uncle…and then that might sway you _this_ way or_ that_ way." She sipped her coffee. "If you're not around them, how can you know?"

"I've been around babies…" I waved a hand. "My brother loves kids. If Maggie lets him, they might just have a bunch," I laughed.

"What's—" she paused, unsure "—what's Santino like?"

I furrowed my brow. "He's…a regular dude. Why you wanna know?" If she tells me how handsome, how tall, or nice he is—

"He kept staring at you…despite his smile, he'd stare hardcore like you'd skinned his dog. And you'd look at him the same way, so I was just wondering what happened there."

"He was?" I asked as hearing that surprised me. "He was fine. He's always fine." I widened my arms. "He's got his wife now. He's going to have a baby in their mansion by the water . . ."

"He'll always have you, too…You're his brother. I heard him say that," she whispered. "I heard him say a few things. Your voices carried, which is why…I asked about your brother."

"What'd you hear?" I asked.

"A lot."

"I was a jerk," I said.

"You were…you were acting like an asshole to all of them, except me, and yet they _accepted_ that behavior from you." She squeezed my hand. "And none of them stopped trying to include you or stopped trying to reach you, talk to you. It happened last time, too. Why do you hate them so much?"

"I don't." I couldn't believe how much she saw—or what she thought she saw. It baffled me. "I don't hate any of them. I just…since a few months ago, I decided to only visit them when necessary. It works well for me." Although lately I've been feeling more and more like a piece-of-shit brother/son. "Well, it works around my schedule and I'm not enmeshed in any of their drama…and it's incredibly difficult. You won't understand—what it's like, trying to be two different people. It's exhausting."

"What?" She crinkled her brow. "You lost me."

"I knew I would." I sipped my coffee; it was burnt. "There are other layers to my family that you'll never see," I whispered. "It's all nice while you're there—catered dinners, laughter, and wine. You know? It may even seem glamorous—the money, the nightclubs, and the cars—to an outsider looking in. And . . . Jordan, it'd be so easy for me to . . . drop out of school, move back to Brooklyn, and be _just like_ them." I hoped she understood what I said while not comprehending my underlying meaning. But that was the best way I could describe it.

Her face kind of fell, which sort of gave me an answer.

"Baby…there's an old me inside of me that…I fight off daily with a stick, and the longer I'm at school, keeping to myself…the easier and all the more confusing it gets."

"Like an identity crisis?"

"Sure." I nodded. "Because…I can be the Cullen you know, and then chill with them and be their Dame."

"What's the difference?" she asked.

"I can't tell you that," I whispered. "I wish I could, but that…I can't. And as of late, I don't know who I am to them, or how to be."

"Oh…" She looked around the diner. "I hope…one day you'll trust me enough—"

"It has nothing to do with that," I laughed. "Who would you tell? You're gonna run to the Feds and turn me in?"

She grinned. "You'd kill me first."

I snorted.

"Well, how…is there a way that it can be less confusing for you?" She raised a brow. "So, maybe you'll know which side of yourself you lean more toward?"

"Sonny knows me," I admitted. "He knows each and every side there is to me, and I don't have to think—worry about a thing—when we're together. And as more time goes by, we hang out a lot less. He thinks you balance me out, but he has no idea that…he keeps me grounded. I'm happy with you, so fucking happy. But—" I paused to laugh at myself. "This is gonna sound bad. OK?"

"Go on," she encouraged.

"I'd…rather Sonny think…I wanna fuck his wife than…than to admit the truth." I chanced a glance at her. "Before you ask, I see Maggie as my sister-in-law and nothing more. I care about her…and she's beautiful, but I don't wanna fuck her."

For the first time ever, I spoke the God's honest truth about Maggie, and a weight had been lifted. Sure, I honestly do think she's beautiful, and she's an amazing listener. Maggie can be a great friend to whoever needs one, and she has a huge heart.

And I saw her as an angel that one night, the night we'd met, since I was so confused and on the warpath, and Maggie had calmed me down.

I was attracted to her, but even _before_ she met and fell in love with Sonny...before Amelia..._just before_, when I had a shot with her? I never took it. For one, I realized how young she was, how I didn't want to pollute her by being associated with me.

I truly never wanted her, never wanted to be with her.

After all, if I had, I would have taken the opportunity when I had it.

When Sonny was going to leave with her on Halloween—the night _they_ met—I acted the way I did because I thought he'd hurt Maggie.

Maggie, who I thought had the purest soul—who was still childlike in many ways—regardless of her body that matched a woman's.

Sonny's track record—when it came to any female who wasn't Katie—was no good. He'd use women to warm his bed and then move on.

I didn't want that for Maggie, so I stood up for her, while everyone else thought I was jealous.

I wasn't...not _that_ night, and not in _the way_ they thought I was.

When they became an actual couple, I still had ill feelings toward my brother, because I felt he'd destroy her—steal her youth.

But then I realized just how much Sonny loved her.

My brother was ready to cut me out of his life...for her.

Me?

Truth be told, when Sonny was chasing Katie and then when they tried to make it work...I wasn't threatened. I bet it's because I knew they'd never make it as a couple—not with how different they are now.

My brother had truly been chasing a dream all of his adult life and then he found Maggie, which was so much better than what his original dream was.

Because of all that...

Because of the way I'd acted...

Because I can be a blind asshole at times...

I lost my brother, my best friend, since he thinks I want his wife in some way.

It's not true.

All I wanted was my brother back.

"I believe you." She looked very sad.

"I don't," I repeated. "I talk a lot about being confused…but I was really confused months ago. But now I know the truth behind a few things? I mapped out my emotions and behaviors regarding a few issues. It's a startling realization." I started to laugh again.

"Don't make fun of yourself, act like your words aren't important." She urged.

"Sonny's not perfect, but it's so fucking easy to hate him because . . . I've spent my entire life trying to match him, trying to be just like him while also trying to impress him and be the person he wants me to be…All while loving and trusting him so much that when..." I blew out a gust of breath.

"Jordan...I schitzed out when Sonny _truly_ fell in love," I whispered that part. "I was angry and irrational, and I flipped it…made it seem like I hated him because…I harbored feelings for Maggie. It was easier to try and hurt him than to admit that _I_ was hurting." I shrugged. "Jordan, after a while and _for_ a while,_ I_ even started to believe I wanted Maggie. I didn't know what was up or down…And during that time, while it was all going down, I was with Amelia, which had to be the most volatile relationship ever…I was manipulative, I was mean to her, I used her . . . She played me well, but now I see why…I deserved it. I made promises that I never intended to keep. I was—I was a total asshole to her. She was a nice girl, and I _destroyed_ her…and then…you and me started hanging out."

She finished off her coffee, listening intently.

And I felt compelled to continue, because I didn't think she'd leave me, break up with me, or anything like that if I did. Jordan genuinely wanted to help me, and I needed to get the truth out.

"With you…you were the greatest escape. I was able to be…me," I said. "I was able to leave all the bullshit in Brooklyn and be this…brand new guy."

"I think…" she blew out a breath "—you need to come clean with Santino. No matter how embarrassing. If he believes what you say isn't true…he's probably harboring a lot more bad feelings than you are. But you're not saying you are." She shook her head. "You made it all up to fight with him. You have no problems with Santino."

"None," I laughed. "He is who he is. And me trying to impress him, me being jealous and trying to sabotage any other real connection he's had…it's all juvenile. It's…my problem, not his." I nodded.

"Whoa…" She shook her head slowly again. "I don't know what to say besides that you need to be honest with him. You also need to see a bright side in your life. Your family, Santino included—regardless of what you've done—they seem forgiving, show you love. And I…haven't met them that many times," she giggled. "But if_ I_ can see that, why can't _you_? If you come clean, it'll just clear the air. It won't change anything but your outlook—your conscience."

I smiled at her, although I didn't know what to say or if she needed a reply. She gave sound advice, but the thought of laying it all out there . . .

"Sonny got hurt when we were kids." I decided to keep talking since it seemed so easy in this moment. "He…got shot and almost died. He almost bled out. The bullet went though his arm, had hit the axillary artery; he had the contused lung, and then a lengthy surgery. I was there when it happened. We were just picking out a new car with my dad, and the next thing I knew…"

"That's terrible." Her chin wrinkled.

"Oh…stop." I thought it was cute.

"How old were you?" She tried not to cry.

"Eight…He was in the car with my sister. Kylie was still in diapers, but she loved her Bunny," I laughed. "She couldn't say Sonny so…and she called me Mame or Mameon. But it was horrible. I didn't know what was going on. I heard these quick, loud bangs and then I was being dragged away by my father…I got, like, road burn on my hand from the gravel, but we made it to the car…I don't know."

"And Santino was hurt?" she asked.

"Yeah, they got him…and just a couple of hours later, I was sent to…California with my sister and cousins, and my aunt—but it was before she _was_ my aunt." I wasn't going to speak about Alex. "That wasn't the first time we were sent away, though. Sonny and I were always, like, carted off to this stupid two-roomed house in the middle of nowhere. I fucking hated that house—the way it looked, the smell—everything about it."

_Fucking Plattsburgh will haunt me forever._

"Sonny understood a lot more than I did, and…I don't know how he's not in therapy, to be honest," I laughed. "My parents never told us anything—never gave us answers. I…didn't even _meet_ my father until I was like five or so. He'd gone away after I was born—was in and out of prison, and then he did actual time. When he got out, he was_ still_ never around and then Kylie came. And I love my parents. I respect them _as_ my parents—"

"But Sonny's sort of like your real parent, since he was always there?"

"Yeah, I think so." I nodded. "That particular fact isn't a secret or lost to my family either. Sonny protects me even to this day. He can't get legit mad at me, and I…I guess I take advantage of that. But I can't tell you why I hurt him...I wish I knew why." I took out my wallet to dig a bill out for the coffee.

"Ready to go?"

"Can we stop somewhere first?" I left the booth, reaching for her hand. "I need to be Dame for a few minutes, and Sonny should be home by now."

"Sure." She cuddled into my side, holding my one hand with both of hers while we left the diner.

We'd just crossed the street again when she said, "Tell me more. You goof, act like you had this normal upbringing, but we both know you didn't. I couldn't imagine…going through what you just said. You must not have even _had_ a childhood."

"No…I did." I chuckled. "Would you believe me if I said that Sonny made it easy for me _not_ to…have to grow up?" I felt her nod as we walked toward Shore Road.

"Cullen, we're training to be doctors," she giggled, staring up at me. "All I've ever known was school, and I know that it shows…Not knowing how to have any relationships, or how to even form them, feeling awkward in public…We'll learn how to be doctors and carry ourselves professionally around all kinds of people. But the personal stuff? I'd be in my room right now reading journals…You're my escape, too, and…you've shown me how to have fun." She stopped to stare at me.

"You'll help me grow up?" I placed my hand on her cheek. "Show me how to be an adult?" I gently kissed her lips.

She winced. "I'm still learning, but I've got you doing your own laundry already."

"That was a feat." I wrapped my arms around her waist, and we were in the street, and it didn't matter. "You're amazing. You know that?"

"Um…" Her hands crept up my neck. "This guy…he's about six-feet tall, brownish hair, brown eyes. He's a total babe and wears glasses, like Clark Kent. But when the glasses come off, he's like Superman…Well, he tells me I'm amazing all the time. It's quite the love story, and if you wanna hear it…I'll tell you." She winked.

"You better be talking about me." I raised a stern brow.

"Of course!"

I hummed, closing the distance between our mouths to explore hers. She tasted like sweet coffee and Jordan, and my hands wandered to all my favorite places until she pulled away.

"It's dark and quiet." She looked around us.

"You're safe…this can arguably be the safest and most dangerous neighborhood in Brooklyn, depending on your outlook," I laughed, ushering her down the block. "One, my father's King Crook, so no other fuckers wanna be here. Two…my father _does_ live here."

She sucked her teeth. "Is he really that, that dangerous?"

"No." I shook my head. "He only plays the bad guy on TV."

If she only knew, I thought.

The smiling man, my father, who she sees at family dinners . . .

There are so many facets to my father that I can hardly describe him.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "One day you'll tell me . . . I think it's kind of cool."

I groaned. "Don't say that." It surprised that after everything I said, she thought it was cool?

"Hey…we are who we are. You can either accept it, or spend your life running away from it."

I stopped to stare at her. "Say that again?"

Jordan looked at me like I had three heads, but she repeated herself for me.

"So…" I placed my arm around her again as we walked down Sonny's street. "If I decided one day I didn't want to be a doctor—if I went into the family business, you'd still be with me?"

She laughed. "How did I know that question was coming?"

"You're psychic." I slapped her ass. "But please…answer me."

"I—I think you're going to be an amazing physician one day. I don't suggest you drop out of school, but if I fell in love with a plumber…at the end of the day he'd still be a plumber. My family's blue-collar. I'm here on scholarship. Being with someone is new to me, but I'd never look at someone's occupation as defining."

I chuckled. "Yes or no?"

"I'd _want_ to," she whispered. "I'd want to stay with you no matter what, but I don't know what…being a mobster's girlfriend entails."

"You'd suck." I kissed her cheek. "You'd have to be very compliant, as in do what I'd say, trust my every move . . . and you'd have to have a lot of faith in me." I stopped us from going too far since Sonny's house was one over.

"Well, we're a decent team now…as we are."

"As we are," I agreed. "I've tried both—medicine and the family business—and I don't have that one important key element…That drive, that greed for every penny in the world," I laughed. "Sometimes, enough is enough. I don't know. There were odd jobs I excelled at…that meant nothing to me. I could go in, do what I had to do, and not think twice about it. Christ. It was so easy—"

"What? Like robbing people?" she whispered.

"Something like that." Like robbing people of their lives. "They were all bad people, though."

"Like a superhero!" She nodded, her face lighting up. "Righter of wrongs."

I laughed and kissed those lips once more.

"Cullen…I get the feeling you're trying to tell me something, like you're a bad person, but all I see is good. So…stop." She caressed my cheek with the back of her hand. "You're so tentative and kind to all our patients, regardless of what you think on the inside. I know you can be a sarcastic, cynic of an ass, but I find it charming."

"Good," I whispered. "And you know I love you."

She beamed. "Yes."

"And you're okay with that?" I raised a brow. "You'll let me love you."

"As long as you let me love you..."

I scoffed, pulling away, but I was only teasing.

"Too cheesy?" she asked.

I sighed. "It was perfect…just the right amount of cheese."

"Cool." She looked around us again. "Which one—"

"This one." I jerked my chin behind her.

"I love it when you do that." She jerked her chin, too.

I grinned. "Wait here."

"On the sidewalk?" She stepped closer to me.

"I'll be a minute."

"But you have a lot to tell him. I'll chill on his couch. I'm not waiting outside—" She seemed frightened.

"Trust me?" I asked.

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, turning away to go lean on a parked car.

Feeling lighter than I had in a long time…I mean, I unloaded a lot on Jordan, although it doesn't seem like my words were a burden to her. I was honest, spoke the absolute truth, and I came to a conclusion.

No matter where I am, or where I go, I'm always going to be Damion Cullen.

But being a Cullen doesn't define me.

My family will see me as Dame. They'll know my mistakes and forgive me for them, and I've always known that they were there if I needed them.

In the past, I tried to make my way in the world…to be a man and be an adult, but it just wasn't the right world—the correct path. However, I'm lucky in that Dad pulled me out, pushed me out. I still don't know how I was able to do the things that I've done without thinking. Those contracts do not weigh on my conscience.

But now? Now that I'm…older, wiser, and quite possibly a little more mature…and because I fight tooth and nail, and I hit the books to diagnose a fucker—to save and cure people daily—I have a lot more compassion and respect for people, and their lives.

And being the hero is so much more satisfying…

And I'm good at being a doctor.

And no one ever did life in prison for breaking ground on a _medical_ trial . . .

I had to let go of yesterday, and the only way to do that was to face my past.

That's the only way I can get to the future.

I turned to wink at Jordan while I rang Sonny's bell.

Noah, that stupid little teacup dog Sonny got Maggie two weeks back, yapped up a storm. It was barely a bark. All the dogs we had as kids were massive. They were awesome, and this thing looks like a rat.

And who names a dog Noah?

_Christ. _

What the fuck were they going to name their kids?

I shook my head of the thought when I heard someone approach the door. "Who is it?" It was Maggie.

"It's me...Damion."

"Oh…" She opened the door, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. Maggie looked terrible in one of Sonny's shirts.

_Some prom night_, I thought.

"Youse were sleeping?" I asked.

"Um…yeah. Just literally fell out. I knew you'd come back to talk to him," Maggie giggled.

"Yeah, well..." I didn't really come back to converse with my brother. "Where—"

"Upstairs." Maggie walked away from the door, leaving it open for me, but I hadn't thought about entering.

That wasn't part of the plan.

"Come on," I called Jordan inside while I turned.

In my periphery, I'd seen a handgun on a table in their foyer—what Maggie probably answered the door with.

Quickly, and before Jordan could peep it, I covered it with a stack of mail that also sat there.

At the same time, Jordan rapidly came to me, and then I closed the door behind us.

I faced her, keeping my finger to my lips, indicating she be quiet. "Stay by the door, and when I—"

"Do you want something to drink?" Maggie asked.

"No…Where's my brother again?" I gently pushed Jordan toward the door.

"I told you...he's asleep." Maggie smirked, which meant she probably fucked him into a coma already. "He's upstairs." She plopped down onto the couch. "But you should know not to poke the bear..."

I pursed my lips, 'cause I could work with that. Especially if he was out cold due to pussy. Sonny's probably sound asleep. In a very deep sleep. "I'm gonna go wake him up," I said.

"Sure...he's better now. You can wake him." Maggie nodded. "He's also off tonight, so..."

That was the cardinal rule while Sonny was all coked up. He'd flip his shit if someone woke him up, if you breathed wrong around him, or made a lot of noise while he was trying his hardest to rest. I know he's better now, has his head.

Maggie looked to Jordan. "Please, sit…I know it's a mess." She grabbed some shit off the sofa so my girl could sit down.

And I had no idea how Sonny could live like this.

I mean, I'm a slob, and so the condition in which this house was in didn't bother me.

My brother, however, has always been a neat freak, and his house was a fucking wreck—like a tornado hit it.

On the outside, it's a mansion, and he has landscapers who help to make the small yard in front look perfect.

On the inside . . . Sonny needed a housekeeper, or maybe Maggie needs to learn how to clean. They have beautiful, classy, and expensive furniture with a closet-worth of clothes hanging over every surface along with other random shit.

It'd been a while since I'd visited, but I know this shit must eat at my brother—his house being a pigsty.

When Jordan and Maggie finally settled down and were facing the television, I made like I was going upstairs, but I didn't.

I went into the kitchen, which—to my surprise—wasn't as messy.

_Probably because Maggie doesn't cook either..._

If my brother was looking for some trophy wife—like I thought—if he was looking for someone to solely warm his bed, have his babies, and clean his house...

Seeing his place like this further solidified how _wrong_ I was about him.

Because . . .

Despite the fact that Maggie doesn't do those wifely things, he loves the fuck out of her.

I was wrong, thinking what I did, not having faith in my brother.

I've known how wrong I'd been for a long while now . . .

But that didn't matter.

It was time for pay back...pay back for the knock to the face I received earlier.

Then, while I racked my brain for a stellar revenge plot, I searched the fridge for chocolate syrup or anything that could make a mess . . . or a marker.

But then Noah entered the kitchen, and my attention went to him.

_All right, so he is cute, small, and fits in your hands._

I took out a package of cold cuts and gave him a piece of ham.

He gobbled it right up and started licking my fingers when the light in my dimly lit brain shined bright.

"You're coming with me," I whispered, placing the dog under my armpit, fucking piece of ham in my hand.

Jordan caught me. She smiled and made to get up, but I shook my head no so she'd stay. Maggie was mid-speech, complaining about some reality show, and I quickly ran up the remaining steps.

Their bedroom was dark, and my brother was sprawled on the bed in his boxers.

"I'm sorry." I mouthed to Noah before approaching the bed.

Carefully, not too carefully—because any man who lives with a woman is used to being touched while in bed—I peeled my brother's boxers down and placed Noah on his stomach. He must lie on Sonny a lot since he just sat there, comfortable, and I bet my brother didn't even feel him. That thing probably weighed a pound at best.

"Mag…stop." He scratched his shoulder.

But then came the tricky part, placing the coldish ham on his cock…

I paused, rethinking my plan…

When I rang the bell, I expected Sonny to answer, and I was going to bop him in the nose and then run away.

But hitting Sonny, _actually_ inflicting physical harm, never sits right with me.

Especially since…I won't lie. My brother's a monster of a dude. He'd slay me in a brawl.

But that motherfucker_ did_ punch me in the face…

So, I laid the ham on him.

And then Noah went for the ham.

And then I thought I was going to die in hysterics because Sonny didn't wake up.

_He. _

_Didn't. _

_Wake. _

_Up._

It gave me time to take out my phone and start recording the hilarious display in front of me.

That slice of ham was almost as long as Noah, but he was going to finish it.

I saw trepidation in his gaze.

Little dude was determined.

And then he started to lick Sonny when it was gone; his head was halfway in Sonny's boxers.

That's when the screaming started.

Sonny just opened his eyes and started screaming, staring down at his dick and the movement in his boxers. He wasn't in pain, more like, scared or mortified.

But then Noah popped his head out to stare at Sonny curiously with those big, black eyes...licking his chops now.

"Fucking dog…" He pushed it away to shudder like a girl, and I got it all on camera. "Maggie!" he shouted, and I backed away from the door, slowly going down the steps.

"What?" Maggie appeared at the landing, and I was still on the stairs.

"Your dog…it was on the bed!" His voice was much higher in pitch than normal.

_Yeah, Sonny was mortified as he left his bedroom. _

"So…?" Maggie asked.

"Dame?" Sonny stopped and stared at me, composing himself.

I waved. "Hey…" I wanted to laugh so badly.

"How long you been here?" He pushed his hair back, trying to play it cool, nonchalant.

"Just now—"

"Fifteen minutes—" Maggie and I spoke over each other.

He looked from me to her, suspicious now, because he still believes all the lies I've told him…which is sad. "Which one is it?"

"Fifteen minutes," I agreed with his wife. "Jordan's here," I said to ease his mind from jump. "But I stopped at the bathroom…all that pasta." I patted my stomach.

"You're full of shit," Sonny said, stomping his foot. "You let Noah in...you, you—"

"No." I tried to deny it, taking two more quick steps closer to the exit.

However, by the look on his face…he knew _exactly_ what I'd done. "You sick motherfucker!"

I cackled as I ran past Maggie.

And Jordan's so curious, she'd already risen to what was the matter.

When we'd almost bumped into each other in the foyer, I grabbed her bicep and pulled her out of the house, and then we ran up the block.

We successfully made it to the corner, and I stopped us to catch our breath. But then looking behind us, Sonny was still fucking running.

"Shit!" I pulled Jordan toward my parents' house.

"What happened?" Jordan was frantic, running like her life depended on it.

I was still trying not to laugh while trying to run as fast as I could, which isn't easy.

When we made it to my parents' door, I quickly dug my keys from my pocket.

It was like part of a scary movie—the monster gaining and every second counts.

"Open it!" Jordan actually banged on the door.

"Go!" I pushed her inside once it was open, and that's when Sonny's body came crashing into it. "Help me!"

Jordan and I managed to get it closed and locked, and I barked out a laugh.

"Damion!" Sonny hollered. "Let me in!"

"Or, what? You'll blow the house down?" I chuckled, out of breath.

"Dame…!" He had that tone.

"Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!"

"Fucker!" It sounded like he kicked the door.

I turned to Jordan. "In the end, how'd the pigs get rid of the wolf?"

She shook her head, dumbfounded. "Um, what…? Uh, I don't think you wanna splash boiling water on your brother. What happened?"

I placed my finger to my lips.

And there was no sound.

Sonny must have backed away from the door, and my eyes trailed around our immediate area.

"The back door," I whispered.

"What?" Jordan was whispering, too.

I laughed and kissed her lips, and that's when Dad came from around the corner—nine in hand.

Jordan gasped.

"What the fuck, Dame?" Dad was in boxers, too.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to listen. "Sonny's gonna try and break in the back door."

"He's got keys." Dad used his gun to scratch his head. "Hey, hon…how you doin'?" He threw a chin jerk at Jordan.

"I'm okay." She stared at the floor.

"He doesn't have his keys," I explained. "He ran here barefoot in underwear, chasing us!" I almost pissed myself.

Dad looked confused, and that's when I heard it—the lock being jimmied. Sonny must be like fucking MacGyver. What'd he use to get it open?

"Fuck." Once again, I pulled Jordan upstairs, past Dad, and I didn't stop until we got to my room.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" she nearly shouted.

"Dame?" That was Mom. "Everything okay?"

"Peachy," I said, keeping my back pressed against my door.

"Sonny?" Mom sounded surprised. "What—"

"What the fuck did he do?" I heard Dad.

"You don't wanna know!" And the banging started at my door this time. "Come out here, Dame, or I swear to Christ!" I'd heard that before.

"We're even!" I shouted.

"What…?" Sonny spat. "We're _so_ not even," he started laughing, but his chuckles kept fading, like he was backing down the hall.

"You can't leave like that. You'll get pinched or some shit. Go get some clothes!" Dad grumbled as he'd passed my door.

"Pinched?" Jordan asked.

"Arrested." I felt relaxed now. "Thanks for running with me."

She was still nervous. "What'd you do?" she whispered.

"Stupid prank." I shrugged. "He's a sore hothead, but fucking with a dude's dick _is_ hitting below the belt..." I mused.

"Dick?" Now Jordan looked mortified.

"I didn't touch him…just shoved ham down his drawers—"

"You, what?" Mom was spying, listening outside in the hall.

I opened my door. "I put…it was a stupid prank."

"But why would you put ham in his underwear?" Mom asked.

"So . . ." I let out another laugh, "so that Noah could have a snack."

"Oh!" Mom jumped back. "That's horrible!"

"What's horrible?" Dad joined us again.

"Oh, Dame-y bear," Mom was giggling. "That was—and Sonny's just a little bit homophobic already." She palmed her forehead.

"What?" Dad was confused.

I took my phone out. "Look…" I pressed play, and they watched. Mom had wide eyes, trying not to laugh while Dad _did_ laugh, but Jordan kept her mouth covered with her hand. She was smiling, though.

"Oh my God!" Dad guffawed. "I'm gonna have to put you and Noah into the Skip protection program. You know he's gonna try to get you back?"

I cringed. "He punched me in the face. We should be square now."

"Not when you fuck with a dude's dick." Dad admonished. "I feel worse for the dog!"

"He was fine," I said. "Where's Kylie?"

"Aro's…where else?" Dad didn't sound happy. "At least I know she's safe…not chillin' on some corner with friends, or…you know."

"Right." I nodded, although Sonny and I had more freedom and we never chilled on street corners. I didn't get his concern. "Kylie's not a hooker—"

"Watch your mouth!" Dad shouted.

I just shook my head.

"Are you guys staying over? Vito can drive you back in the morning. I'll call him now." Mom went to walk away.

I stopped her. "We might be safer at the dorms."

"Sonny's not going to do anything to hurt you. Relax."

"Tell that to my shiner." I joked, pointing to my eye.

"You're hardheaded. He did no damage." Dad shook his head.

"No…we should go. Sonny really left?" I looked around us again, paranoid.

"He left," Dad said. "But if I was him, I'd be waiting behind the hedge for you…just waiting. That's probably where he is. Want me to check?"

"Would you?" I grinned.

Dad just walked away and toward the front door.

"Jordan…it's not usually this exciting around here." Mom chatted her up.

"It's…okay." She waved a hand. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course." Mom paved the way for her. Once Jordan disappeared, my mother sidled up to me. "I haven't had a minute to be with you…by yourself." She rested her head on my arm. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too…but it's better if I'm not coming back here all the time."

"I know that," Mom whispered. "Does Jordan think we're crazy?"

I chuckled. "No. She likes you guys."

"Good. I hope you bring her around more often—"

"That motherfucker!" Dad stomped into the house. He was soaking wet. "He thought I was you! Was in the-the fucking bush with the hose!"

I stiffened. "Sorry."

"For a sound sleeper, that boy shouldn't be punkin' people, man!" My father was so loud, I felt his words in my bones.

"Edward…relax. It's just water—"

"He thinks he's so fucking slick—wants to fuck with me? _Me_?" He was beside himself. "I'mma sneak in while he's asleep and Krazy Glue his hand to his dick!" He let out a maniacal laugh.

"Don't you dare!" Mom scolded. "He sprayed you with the hose, what's the big deal? Go get a towel."

"Okay." Dad nodded, had calmed down, but I could tell he was placating my mother. "All right…"

"Where'd Sonny go?" I asked.

"I chased him to the curb. And when he saw it was me, he hauled ass around the corner. You're good—can go." He stiffened, letting out a groan.

"It…is only water," I said.

Dad snorted. "Yeah." He disappeared into his bedroom.

I furrowed my brow, wondering how long it was going to take Jordan. "Hey…" I knocked once.

"Leave her alone," Mom whispered. "What if she's pooping?"

"I'm not!" Jordan shouted and poked her head out. "I just…didn't know." She looked up and down the hall.

"You'll make sure Dad doesn't kill Sonny?" I smiled down to my mother.

"Dad won't care by tomorrow…" She shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"The way he holds a grudge?" I laughed.

"Don't worry about it." She pulled me down to her, and I hugged her tight. "I love you, and be careful."

"I love you, too, and I will." I kissed her hair.

A minute later, Dad came out in dry clothes to say goodbye. I promised to stop by more often, like I always do, but I actually meant it. I had such a good time tonight, so much fun.

Although the misfortune of others isn't supposed to be funny or amusing…

"It's almost eleven…" Jordan was hyperaware as we walked the streets. "Are the trains going to come on time?"

"Probably not," I said. "We'll take a cab."

"That'll cost a mint!" she exclaimed.

"And worth every penny," I mumbled through a yawn. "Fuck…what time did the alarm go off this morning?"

"4:30," she sighed. "I thought…we were going to your brother's so you could apologize, be sincere and get somewhere."

I laughed. "We…have a special relationship. I dunno. We'll be fine."

"Okay," she hummed.

We caught a cab by the subway and headed back to campus. The ride was quiet, but my hand kept creeping over to squeeze her thigh. I love those fucking things…

"We're so not having sex tonight. If we get back by one, we'll have three hours to sleep?" She let out a moan and rested back against me.

"Sleep is overrated," I commented, trying to sneak my hand down her jeans.

She smacked my paw away.

"You deny me now…" I pursed my lips to stare out the window at my neighborhood passing by. "Let's call out tomorrow. It's fucking Sunday—bullshit rounds."

"What?" She spat like a curse word. "Are you insane? _You_ might have the teaching liaison by the balls—can take days off—but I can't."

"You haven't missed a day in the last—almost four years."

"True," she said. "I always had perfect attendance, but no. I just want my bed."

"Okay," I agreed, rubbing her back. "I…have to step out again after we get back."

"What do you mean?"

I clamped my eyes shut, wanting to put past problems to bed, knowing Amelia was going to be at Twilight in about an hour. "That's why I thought we could take off tomorrow," I explained. "Because…Sonny asked me to do something a while back, and I've yet to do it."

"What? Add cheese to the ham?"

"No…to talk to Amelia." After I said that, silence filled the cab.

"Um…I don't know why you'd have to speak to her in person."

"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered. "It's not like that."

"I know," she said. "But from what you said earlier…I think just telling her how sorry you are might go a long way."

I quirked a brow, but Jordan's version wasn't how I saw it going. "I'll…I'll try calling her."

"And if she gets nasty, I'll talk to her."

"No." I shook my head, thinking she was cute.

"I'm not scared of her…She's like really fucking tiny," Jordan giggled.

I didn't comment as I scrolled through my phone for her name. It was at the top with the A's, but I hadn't used it for a long while. "Shhh." I placed the phone to my ear and a kiss to Jordan's head.

Amelia picked up on the third ring, and I could tell she might already be at Twilight, or possibly outside. "Hello…?"

"Hey," I said, nonchalantly. Meanwhile, I'd been dreading the thought of hearing her voice or seeing her, because I didn't know how it'd pan out—how I'd feel. "Sonny won't be there." But I felt nothing.

Amelia was quiet.

"You there?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm…at Twilight." She sounded disappointed.

"What are you doing?" I had a different tone, one which inquired about a whole lot more than her current actions or whereabouts.

"Santino's not going to show up? Is he at Eclipse?"

"Don't worry about him or where he is. He's already suspicious—knows you're up to something." I shrugged. "You see where I'm going with this…?" I hoped she got my hint. "My brother's married, very happily-so . . . you're not going to get the reaction you want, and you're starting a whole mess of trouble. If you're doing it to get back at me, I applaud your efforts—"

"I fucking hate you!" It sounded like she was crying.

"I'm sorry, Amelia…I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted. You have no idea how sorry I am about the whole situation." I let out a breath, and Jordan nodded next to me. She rubbed my back and was so supportive. "But…you're better than trying to get back at me by being my brother's whore—"

"Fuck you!" she shouted. "What happens between Santino and me is none of your business."

"Right…" I bit my lip. "Humor me now, though. Do yourself the favor. Go find Pietro and have him bring you home—"

"He's…dead."

"Oh…I'm sorry to hear that." I had no idea what to say. "Go to your car—"

"I don't have one," she said. "I…dyed my hair red, and I've been living in SoHo…with a few friends."

I grimaced and pulled the phone away to look at it. "And the Bohemian lifestyle suits you now?"

"I still have access to my father's credit, if that's what you're asking." She sounded better. "Believe it or not, hiding in plain sight in New York is the safest place for me. I refused to go to my aunt's."

"What's going on?" I asked.

Amelia chuckled. "If you don't know, then_ you're_ not supposed to. Are you still frontin' like some preppy poindexter?"

"Apparently…yes." This call had suddenly become amusing.

"So, you're still living outta Daddy's pockets, too?"

"Yes…you're doing better in life than me." I thought that'd make her happy, even if I was lying.

"Oh…I have to go."

"We cool? You're going to keep your distance?" I asked. "Stay away from my family?"

"I'll definitely be staying away from you—"

"Amelia." My tone was flat.

"Listen to me, you little shit," she hissed into the phone. "This goes beyond you—so far beyond, I can barely touch the surface. My family's dying—"

"What?" I sat up in the seat.

"My father's holding his own, but it's a struggle. He's too proud to ask for help, so yes. I've been looking to confer with your brother," she ranted through a whisper. "He thinks I just wanna sleep with him?" She laughed. "Unlike you, I'm loyal to my family. I'm doing what I think is best, and…"

"You're going about it wrong," I sighed. "And I am loyal to my family…" And I wanted to say that's why I didn't marry her, but I didn't. It hurt to bite my tongue.

"Well, luckily, I know not to play my best hand first . . . I gotta go. Your uncle's here." She hung up on me.

"Ho-ly shit!" I stared at my cell phone.

"What happened?" Jordan asked.

I laughed. "Nothing like that, has nothing to do with me."

"Oh." She furrowed her brow as the car pulled up to our building.

As quick as I could, I paid our fare and called my father.

He wasn't answering his cell.

I groaned, dialing the house. "I'll be right in," I told Jordan.

"You're not going anywhere?"

I showed her the cigarette while my mom answered the phone. "I need to talk to Dad."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Just…guy stuff." I rolled my eyes, lighting my bone.

"Are you still smoking?" Mom asked. "I didn't smell it on you earlier—"

I pulled the phone away to exhale. "No."

"Here…it's Dame . . . Hello?" Dad answered.

"I called Amelia."

"Yeah, and?" he asked.

"What's going on in Jersey?"

My father hung up on me, and I kicked the step. Then I was about to call him back, when a number unknown to me came up on my screen. "Go to a pay phone, and then call me back on this number...but don't use the dorm pay phone." He ended the call again.

I groaned to the sky before making my way to the chicken spot two blocks away.

Since I fear Jordan at times, I called her to say I was picking up a two-piece and a biscuit.

"Hello?" I held the receiver with my shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Nothing you need to be concerned about."

"I walked two blocks to hear that?" I snorted. "Are you kidding? Are we…is there…with New Jersey?" I didn't know any cool slang that _couldn't_ be deciphered.

"Nope. Not us. If there was you'd know about it."

"'Cause I'd be at some remote cabin with Mom and Kylie...the collateral damage that we are," I grumbled.

"I'd let you take Jordan with you."

"Funny." I shook my head. "I was talking to…A about leaving S alone, and she said that C was meeting her…at sundown." I repeated that sentence to myself.

"I know," Dad said. "He wasn't answering her calls until I told him to…That was about an hour ago or so." He yawned. "C was dangerous back in the day, but he's a suave older dude now." He started laughing.

"You don't think that's a conflict of interest on your part…? Should…Does S know why she's really trying to contact him?"

"Well, S and I are…in untouchable-mode, so probably not." He kept his voice down. "S has bigger fish to fry, although he's worried about this crap…but only for the Ball-and-Chain's sake. You feel me? He didn't give a fuck about the father or what he could do…"

"He was worried about A wrecking his marriage?"

"Yup…that's it. Other than that…I mean, there's nothing going on," he said. "We're not extending a hand—"

"But who are they…against?" I was curious.

"Uh…Betsy Ross?"

"What?" I thought I misunderstood him.

Dad laughed. "This is fun…Betsy Ross. You figure out where she's from, you call me back."

Philadelphia, I thought. "I already know where she's from."

"Then…you have your answer." There was amusement in his tone. "Look, no one's on the line." He chuckled. "No one's listening, but that was fun."

"Tell me more then."

"Less is more." He yawned again. "But it…has nothing to do with us. If or when we're pulled into the mud, you'll know."

"When…?" I hedged. "Is this inevitable?"

"No…for the right price, I might hold a sit-down—end it all. We'll see who has the bigger number."

I was confused. "Okay…"

"Under special circumstances, a boss from another family can mediate a sit-down between two others. Understand?"

I laughed. "And you won't do it unless you benefit in some way?"

"It's my God-given right. I'm only obligated to pay taxes and die, so yes. I'll do what I want," he said; meanwhile, I know during tax-time he does some shady shit so he doesn't get audited.

"Right," I agreed, laughing. "Do you even_ pay_ taxes?"

"Yes...And you should go to bed…you gotta be up in a couple hours."

I nodded even if he couldn't see.

"Sweet dreams, baby boy. I love you."

"Love you, too." I hung up the phone to place my hands in my pockets.

Then I walked as fast as I could back to the dorms.

Without a nine, I felt naked and exposed.

Dad didn't exactly say we had _nothing_ to worry about.

He said, "when we get pulled in," or something like that.

Sonny and his possible pranks didn't sound so scary, not in comparison to what _could_ happen if New York got into a scuffle…

And I didn't want to think about uprooting my life at this point—leaving school to hide out, leaving Jordan because I doubt she'd come away with me.

I wasn't one of Dad's soldiers.

I wouldn't be able to stay in New York.

If something happened, I wouldn't be privy to _any_ information, just stored away with Mom and Kylie like the liabilities we are.

But maybe I had nothing to worry about.

I called Sonny to make sure; he'd tell me the truth and ease my fears. "You got balls calling me!" He was still upset.

"Be serious for a second," I said.

"What's up?" he asked.

I lit another cigarette and sat on the front steps. "Do…I have something to worry about?"

"Yeah…_me_!" he spat.

"From…across the bay." I reiterated.

"No, no way, bro. That doesn't concern us," he laughed. "It's like mass hysteria. No facts to back up a damn thing and everybody's worried—whatever."

"But Dad said something about…sitting down with one from each." Again, I didn't know what I could or couldn't say.

"He's not going to; I promise you that. The objective is…for them to cancel each other out while we watch."

"That's kind of brutal…Aren't…the families close? Like, go back years despite having beef?" I was trying to understand all angles. "Luke—"

"Will…probably be taken off the board, and then Dad'll replace him with someone else…There's a few ways it could play out, but if there was anything to worry about, I'd have my wife on a plane already."

"True." I knew he was being honest with me, and not placating. "You know Amelia didn't wanna have an affair with you, right?"

"Doesn't matter," he said. "She's sneaky and conniving, and she wants to get you back; meanwhile, she burned you. I know she's someone to watch. Especially because she's poking her beak where it don't belong—asking people where I am. Drawing attention to me is almost as bad as a bullet."

I rolled my eyes. "You're so important."

Sonny had no reply.

"It was a joke…"

"I know. I just didn't find the humor in it," he said. "And…you should start showing me some respect, not for nothing."

"I respect you." I chuckled.

"You don't…but you will. Look, lemme let you go—"

"Just talk to me." I flicked my cigarette butt into the street.

"I don't get you anymore, dude. You're being a prick. You come over here and fuck with Noah—"

"You punched me in the face!" I shouted.

"You were out of line," he replied. "I try my hardest to look past a lot of shit. You've done and said some shady shit to me." Damn. I do need to clear the air with him. "But, no matter how hard I try…Look, you're being petty, and you couldn't even be happy for me. What is that?"

"I am…happy for you," I sighed. "I'm ecstatic for you, and you have my support…for whatever that's worth."

"It means a lot. I had all these happy faces around me except yours, and…yours was the only one I was looking for," he whispered, and I felt really bad about the ham suddenly…I felt horrible about it all, putting Sonny through hell.

"I was just—"

"Jealous? I know you—"

"Not in the way you think," I admitted.

"I know _the way_ you think, Dame, and I told you before. You're my brother. That's not changing—nothing's really gonna change," he laughed. "You're so scared of change…but nothing's changing."

I shook my head, because I felt it, that everything was going to be changing soon—that nothing would ever be the same, especially our relationship.

Once upon a time…he'd take me everywhere. Sonny would never leave me behind. I'd roll with him, and we were legit best friends.

Now…?

"Yeah…shit'll change."

In a few years, he might just be the Don of New York, and I'll be doing my residency. By then, I'll be so far removed from it all, we'll barely have a thing to even speak about since everything is so enmeshed.

"Even if it does, who says that has to be a bad thing?" he asked.

I didn't answer him. "I should go in…I'm still outside."

"All right…and if I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open."

"Love you, too." I hung up on him to heave my ass off the step.

Jordan was up in her room, so I took the elevator up to the fifth floor, and then I used my key to get into her room. "Hey." I kicked off my shoes.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Did you…go to that club?"

I shook my head. "I was gone twenty minutes at best."

"Then…where's the chicken?" she asked.

"No! I went down the block to use the pay phone _by_ the chicken place, and then I was just talking to Sonny on the steps." I unbuttoned my pants and stepped out of them while I waited for Jordan to move over. "Move…"

She scooted back to let me get in. "I don't get it…From dirty looks to a punch in the face…to…the ham, chasing us, and now you were just on the phone with him? I don't understand," she laughed.

I placed a kiss on her wrist. "You don't have to…understand."

"Well," she sighed, getting in her nook, "I don't have siblings . . . You and Santino seem to be codependent but in different ways."

"Maybe we are." I nipped those lips. "Maybe…I don't have to have all the answers yet, you know?" Having all of that weigh on my mind would drive me insane—thinking about the future.

"No one ever has all the answers," she whispered.

"You usually do." I smiled as my finger trailed down the slope of her neck and to her chest, and then I stuck it between her boobs. "There's no point in going to sleep now. We should just fuck, which will put us in better spirits."

She giggled, sitting up. "Is that your officially diagnosis, Dr. Cullen?" she moved to straddle my lap.

"Yeah…" I pulled her top up and over her head.

* * *

_**Sonny is up next AGAIN!**_

_**I promise to deliver Skip/Bebella soon. **_

_**And in CH47 there will be a month time jump. **_

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts.**_


	47. Empire

**Stephenie**** Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd**** by ****HollettLA****.**

****TAKES PLACE A MONTH after CH46**

**** Time gap (one month) between CH46 and CH47**

**Again, this is a Dame/Sonny arc. Those who miss Edward and Bella, please sit tight, and be patient. I'll deliver them soon enough. **

**Those of you waiting for Tribute to update, I apologize for the wait. It'll be updating some time this week. **

**Lastly, I have a new story in the works, although I won't be publishing it until it's complete. Put me on author alert...It's a fun story :-) I'm crazy excited about it. **

**Oh! Happy Birthday to my love, HollettLA, my beta! XOXOXO**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Forty-Seven: Empire**

**Sonny POV**

**_I_** was giddy, smiling like a loon behind my desk as Aro, Uncle Carlisle, and Jasper spoke amongst themselves.

Quite a few things had to be discussed, and in the back of my mind, I was listening to every word they said.

But texting Maggie was more important.

_How about Joshua for a boy? –Mag_

_Sophia Grace for a girl? –Mag _

Everything was going so well, and I count my blessings every-single-day.

The day I found out Maggie was pregnant, my father told me many things. What sticks out most was when he told me that Maggie was my true partner in crime, my partner in life, my wife. He broke shit down, told me how much easier it'd be if I just kept things from her. But then he admitted that never worked well for him with Mom. Basically, I can't leave Maggie in the dark, but she doesn't have to know _everything_...business-wise.

In regards to separating it all, dealing with _work_ stresses, he said, _"Trying to be sweet and attentive, no matter what's going on with work, it isn't hard when you want to be, especially for the right person."_ He said my mother is his only person, so it was a no-brainer. _"You should remember to put your wife and family above it all, no matter what oath we've both taken."_

During a button ceremony, us wise guys who wanna be made have to swear that the organization comes first. But my father didn't have to tell me differently.

Sure, I'm no rat. I know the rules. I know what my "job" entails, but he didn't have to tell me that Maggie should come before that.

I already knew.

Being this new me wasn't going to be difficult at all. I just had to keep the same objective in mind all the time.

Maggie and my real family come first.

Our marriage was great before, but it all got even better when I kept my word, was a gentleman and shut my phone off on graduation night. I turned the outside world off, devoted myself to my wife, and I didn't give a fuck what else was going on.

The night Maggie graduated was like…a prom night do over. We had a quiet dinner in our suite at the Waldorf—where it all pretty much started..._since I wasn't bringing my pregnant wife to Midnight Sun. _

And we had a fantastic evening.

We were able to get back to being Sonny and Maggie again, like we did while we were at The Reefs—our surprise mid-winter holiday getaway.

Coming home from Bermuda, and with Dad on the low, I was thrown back into reality. I was given many liberties, was acting Skip, and I made a lot of moves. I was crazy busy and I stayed away from the coke.

So, for us to have the chance to refocus was refreshing and needed, and it didn't stop the morning after graduation.

The days and weeks following and 'til today, we've been even happier.

For the past month and change, it's been nothing short of fantastic.

Granted, my brother and I still aren't on the best of terms. We've barely spoken. Well, we haven't spoken since he called me late that one night—when I put my bullshit aside and eased his fears, but I was truly pissed at him.

I still am, kind of.

It was a nasty prank, plus all that other shit he's done...

My aggravation toppled over and I'm actually holding a grudge against him, when I never had before.

And he hasn't called, I haven't called, there have been no lunch meetings between us.

The whole situation breaks my heart, as I wish we could go back to how we used to be, but...

A small part of me thinks that writing him out of my life is why I've been stress-free.

Dame's fine. If he wasn't, I'd know, and I know he's keeping his distance from everyone because _he wants_ it that way.

All of which is how I've been able to devote myself to _my_ wife...who's carrying _my_ baby.

_Overall, life is amazing..._

I won't lie. When it comes to Maggie, I'm even more protective now than I was.

Maggie refused to let me hire a housekeeper and swore she'd keep our home clean. But I didn't want her doing anything. Even if I'm a neat freak—come home from work just to straighten up, and now we have the dog, who's so small I can't believe he sheds—I didn't care about it, let it go.

She was worried about that at first, wondering how she'd be able to keep a house and go to school. And I'd said we'd both clean up after ourselves, but…Maggie can be sloppy.

No one has any comments when they come over, except my father, who says our house is like a pigpen.

Meanwhile, Maggie, my sister, and Peto—the only people who _truly_ get to enjoy _my_ crib, have been spending most of their days there—don't mind sitting in filth. Our living room is always a disaster area—books on the couch and floor, despite us having a nice shelf, random articles of clothing because Maggie doesn't believe in hampers, fucking drinking glasses and sometimes plates everywhere.

It's messy, but not really dirty, and it grates on my nerves.

I'm out all day, working more now so I have more time later, and then during the first twenty minutes I'm home, I'm cleaning. And I'm tired, and having to clean up after all of them gets me frustrated.

But I'm not old school, one of those guineas who married someone just so they'd keep house and spread their legs.

No.

My mother taught me better, and I've just always kept a neat place.

We spoke about it, and Maggie felt terrible—swore she'd shape up or whatever because she didn't want a housekeeper.

Anyway, I didn't even want her doing menial tasks like that; I didn't want her doing anything.

I was afraid of…everything and anything hindering our shot at happily ever after.

Dad talked me off that ledge; he told me, _"Homegirl can sweep and mop. She's healthy, and if she can muster enough strength to be a wild cat in the sack, she can clean your home."_ He also suggested she take shifts at the tanning salon again.

Mom still does the books, but Maggie and Kylie work most days.

Again, it's summer, so business isn't booming at Bay Ridge Tan. The both of them together can't be good for business either. I can't count how many times those two have closed early just to go chill by our pool, or Dad's pool, or fucking Aro's pool. They switch it up, don't wanna get caught by Mom.

Besides Maggie's driver and Vito—who looks after Kylie—Peto is usually always with them.

I knew my wife had protection, and that those around would never let anything happen to her.

I just wish I could be there 24/7.

_No. Not Joshua. Santino Anthony Cullen Jr. for a boy—Mag _

I grinned down to my phone, because naming our kid after me will earn Maggie a nice, long pussy licking.

Eh, if Maggie wanted to name our kid Fred, I'd still give her the tongue action.

_It's one of my favorite things to do. _

I laughed at my own thoughts, and I nodded to agree with myself, my thumbs typing away to text her back.

"You agree…?" Jasper asked. "Sonny?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry. Say that again?"

My uncle groaned. "Santino, put the fuckin' phone down."

I stared at him, thinking he had some pair for raising his voice to me in front of them.

"You talk to him or I will," Aro told my uncle.

Carlisle pursed his lips. "Both of youse…step outside a minute." He jerked his thumb, indicating Aro and Jasper take a hike.

I widened my arms. "I answered a text. What?"

Aro chuckled while placing his hand on Jasper's shoulder. "Let's get another drink."

Cousin Jasper didn't look like he gave a fuck and left my office with him.

Carlisle was fast to close the door. "What's going on?" he asked.

"What?"

"Did you hear _anything_ we've said?" he laughed.

"Yeah…" I nodded, thinking a few things over. "I just don't know what it has to do with me. Helping Luke with his little problem…C, that's not _my_ call." I pointed to myself. "No matter how much I want us to stay out of it…if Dad _wants_ to extend a hand, we'll be getting involved." That's why I was more concerned with texting Maggie. It was better than anything the Unholy Trinity—Dad, Carlisle, and Aro—had to say.

Although my father isn't here at the moment…

For the first time—in fucking forever—my parents went on a real vacation. It was sudden; they left abruptly. Dad said it was a whim, and Kylie's been staying with us...mostly Aro's because she'd rather spend her nights with Peto, and I don't care, as long as she's safe.

My parents are only to be gone a week…They went to some Hawaiian island and shit, which surprised me because it's practically a world away, and my father hates long plane rides.

But with all the shit _they_ were just talking about, maybe it's more than a vacation for my parents?

If so—in case of anything—I can't imagine they'd travel so far away.

And…I was a little antsy, knowing that if shit was about to get hot, I'd have to do something with Maggie and my siblings; send them away, since Dad's not here at the moment. Like, if something popped off while he was gone.

"Where-the-_fuck_ are you?!" Unc slapped the back of my head, and I nearly jumped out of my chair.

"Watch it," I warned.

"We're here…bum-rushed _your_ office to have an emergency sit-down. Edward—the Skip, your father—told us to confer with you. This is_ your_ call! If he wanted Aro and me to handle it, he would'a said so…but he didn't."

I pushed my hair back.

"Sonny—" he held my shoulder "—your father didn't talk to you before he left?"

Snorting, I shook my head no. "He said he was going to fuck my mother a million ways to Sunday and drink like a fish—I told him to have a good time and bring Maggie back a t-shirt."

"Fucking Edward…" Carlisle kicked my trash can.

"Take it easy!" I chuckled.

Carlisle smirked at me. "This is another test. You realize that, right?"

I groaned, clamping my eyes shut and sitting back. "So…it_ is_ my call?"

"Yup," my uncle sighed, leaning his ass to my desk. "Alex is taking all the kids to Disney—including Hanna and Carli. Ant wants to stick around, and he rightfully can as a made man…no matter how much I want him to go."

I disagreed. "If it's _my_ call—" I pointed to myself "—then…you call Luke and tell him I'll broker the sit-down with him and Mike, from Philly."

It was the only plan that made sense to me, _if _we were going back on original plans.

By right—despite past qualms, but because of a recent alliance—we have had Jersey's back from jump. We should have intervened when Philly was starting to make moves against them. Meanwhile, that shit happened with Amelia and Dame, Luke pissed my father off, and so…since my father already felt betrayed, Dad made more trouble for Luke—had a few heist-men rob Luke blind but left a Philly calling card to make Luke believe Philly did it.

_Pride…is the downfall of many._

Again, by right, if Luke had sought my father out—after it happened—Dad would have no choice. That's what my father thought would happen, and he banked on that.

But Luke didn't do that...had too much pride to ask for help.

What my father basically did was send a "fuck you" to him in the form of, _"You think you're tough shit? Now it's time to sink or swim."_

I understood it all.

I'll squash the beef between New Jersey and Philly—what my father didn't truly start but made worse—but what I won't do is send a fleet to Dirty Jerz to help wipe the Philadelphia family off the map.

My father wouldn't do that either.

In fact, at this point, I think he'd be more inclined to help take Luke out—out of frustration and whatnot.

There's always casualties on both sides, which would be unnecessary. Even if our numbers and pockets wouldn't truly take a hit, I wanted to avoid more conflict.

It has nothing to do with the size of my balls.

It has to do with bad business.

We essentially have no personal stake in this, but what's right is right. If we don't help Jersey—have their backs during wartime or help to end their conflict—other families we have alliances with might start to look at us differently.

They'd stop giving us their tribute—protection money—and might ultimately team up against us.

There'd be beefs across the board; we'd look like snakes or pussies, pocketing their money but not willing to lend a hand.

But Luke has yet to ask for help…

My father knew our stepping in was inevitable…

While I see it clearly now, he could have said something from the get-go.

"Okay." Carlisle smiled. "I hear ya…but you never know what's going to happen. I still plan to get my wife and kids outta Dodge. You feel me?"

"I hear you," I said. "But…if everyone is suddenly on vacation, the Feds'll start sniffing around more."

"Your father's out of…Brooklyn. They've been following Aro, watching him like a hawk, but it's only one car. I heard from my connection, they really don't give a fuck about this conflict…Truth be told, they're doing nothing to try and stop them from killing each other. But what they are doing is trying to dig up as much info as possible while the families are at their weakest. It's been quiet around here," he sighed. "All of which is…why most of our capos are aching to go across the bay. They may not like Luke, but for whatever reason…I mean, your generation hasn't seen a war, or what it can do—"

"Are you kidding?" I asked him, finding what he said amusing. "I remember all that shit from back when Luke's brother ran Jersey…I've seen war and what it can do."

"Right!" Carlisle was enthusiastic. "And that's why you're going to put an end to it. Other young dudes like you…they don't know. They're eager for a fight, the opportunity to expand, be a tough guy, and fill their pockets. I'll call Luke. Shit. After talking to Amelia, I'm happy to do it. I felt terrible for the poor girl."

I rolled my eyes. "Right."

"I didn't place a hand on her." He kicked my chair. "All we did was talk…and she begged us to do something."

I put my hands up. "Unc, I honestly wouldn't give a fuck if you did." It was the truth. "I'm more surprised you _didn't_ fuck her, but _believe_ her sob story."

"Old habits die hard, but no…She was so desperate, I think she _would_ have if that was my asking price; however, I'm a happily married man. She's a nice girl…" he said, and I couldn't believe _he_ believed that. "Look, shit didn't work out between her and Dame. She…fucked with his head, so I understand her putting a bad taste in your mouth—she kinda hurt our family—but your brother is partly to blame for what happened, too."

"No, he's not," I laughed. "She tried to trap him—was all kinds of manipulative. I begged Dame to play the field after Julie broke up with him. After being with someone for all those years—he had no business trying to settle down so quickly. He wasn't ready, was trying to…I don't know." I rubbed my temple. "Find himself? I know my brother does things in his own time. You know? He's like…emotionally delayed?" I quirked a brow.

"Both of them were under pressure…from Ed and Luke." He massaged his forehead. "And I know,_ from personal experience_, how fucked-up that can be and what it can do to a person. That shit could be why Dame started acting out in the first place. He was fucked mentally after Julie, rushed into things with Amelia…all while everyone was putting the screws to him."

I nodded. "He…was going through some other shit, too—dealing with some shit from his past, which is why…_I_ can't fault him. But Amelia knew, and instead of being there for him, she put him through hell."

My heart sank, thinking about my little brother…when he _was_ little. Dad was right; Damion was an amazing kid. Some shit happened that my father had no control over, which made Dame stronger although colder—I think—since he was always so sweet, naïve, and…just young for whatever age he was.

Logically, if an older woman had propositioned me at fourteen, I'd have found it a godsend. But at fourteen, Dame probably had the mind of…a nine-year-old, despite what his physical body might have been capable of.

Maybe I couldn't see it, needed time to process it, but that _was_ abuse—he was raped by someone he considered his aunt, a family friend.

So, almost a year ago . . . my brother—who's already emotionally stunted, confused, and generally fucked-up—is hurt once again. He doesn't know how to speak up or ask for help, and so he goes after Aunt Alex . . .

The only adult female—besides Mom—who's always been there for him.

Now that I know all the facts . . .

Well, most of them…

In a roundabout way, it made a lot of sense.

Regardless of anything he was doing to me at the time, placing a bullet in Lauren's head was, like, the least I could do to make up for not having his back. Like Dad, I felt it should have never happened; we should have protected him better.

And he saw Maggie as . . . a child, something I was trying to covet.

I think_ he_ was trying to protect her; meanwhile, my brother went about it so-fucking-wrong.

But I digress…

Dame opened up to Amelia, and I firmly believe he was trying to make their relationship work, and she betrayed him.

If Amelia never told Mom…

I'll give her that much, help save her father's life because of that—because we would still be in the dark—but in my eyes she fucked with Dame's head.

Amelia did the right thing with telling Mom, but Dame couldn't trust her after that, and rightfully so.

Hey, had _she_ not been sneaky, they _could_ be married by now.

_Maybe not. _

Dame was losing interest, was too busy sticking his nose in my relationship than focusing on his own.

Or, he was using Maggie as an excuse.

I want to have faith in my brother. I mean, I trust the kid with my life, and I love the fuck outta him, but he can be a ball-busting prick sometimes.

_The shit he did to Noah…that poor little puppy._ That was evil, and not to mention how…It was disgusting, waking up with my dog damn-near licking my cock.

I shuddered at the thought.

But it was a good one, a good prank.

The shit with Maggie, though…

He's given me a multitude of excuses, reasons as to why he did what he did to keep us apart—from expressing how he saw her first, fighting me, to giving me the silent treatment, and _all the way_ to flipping out, to saying he wanted to protect her from me.

While I want to believe he had the best intentions, feel it in my gut that he'd never cross that line—betray me like that—the whole thing with Damion and Maggie is laced with too many shades of grey.

She's my wife, pregnant with my child and tied to me in every way, and_ I_ trust her.

But I won't lie.

I know they care for each other, have a connection since they understand each other a lot better than either one will admit. My wife understands him in ways that I can't; I know that from talking to them separately.

But their bond—whatever it is—isn't romantic.

Before we got married, Damion did everything he could to keep us apart, and then, a few months ago, he did everything he could to hold us together when…when I lost _my_ mind.

For the past year—overall—he's been a lot better than he used to be, don't get me wrong. Damion used to keep it all inside, bottle it up, but with opening his mouth came many other traits I didn't like about him.

Maggie says he was hurting, and I knew that. Also, I know that when I'm hurting, I sometimes hurt others…

It was a clusterfuck and a half, but I just wish he'd be straight with me.

Whatever he did and for whatever reason, he's been forgiven, but these days he_ hides_ behind Jordan.

"I'm surprised you and Dame don't get along better," I said. "Youse could'a bonded over…arranged marriage, whatever."

He barked out a laugh. "After what he did? Hey, I put the past to rest, but that doesn't mean I don't wanna yoke Dame up when I see him—going after and scaring the fuck outta my wife. I have no problems being the bigger man. Especially since he's my nephew—he's young, stupid, he fucked up—you know? But I'm also a human being, and…others would have put a bullet between his eyes."

Finding his words amusing, I smiled. "You'd never do that to Dame."

He shrugged. "If it was anybody else…"

I scoffed. "Yeah…fuckin' Dame, man—"

"Sonny, you need to let shit go, too. He's been on his best behavior."

"Because he's not around," I said. "But he got his act together." I couldn't deny that. "He did right by me…was there for Maggie when I was…you know. He just needs to grow up. Dad—"

Carlisle laughed. "Stop placing all the blame on your father!" He stared at me. "You're _just_ as guilty. You know that if Skip didn't jump to help Dame outta a jam, you'd hop to it quick. I'm just sayin'." He put his hands up. "You've fought your brother's battles since he was born, and there's nothing wrong with that, but he's an adult now. Your father will never stop looking out for the best interest of his children…but you're not Dame's father, so you should start letting Skip take over in that department."

"Dame's chill now." I shrugged. "We…I'm pissed at him, at the moment—"

"The ham?" He chuckled. "That video was hilarious. You're talkin' 'bout the shit with the dog, right?"

I didn't answer that.

"Sonny, that was like a month ago!"

"I'm not a good prankster, and I'm actually glad Dad hasn't gotten me back for the hose…Unless him going away with Mom will…I mean, will him being away now blow up in my face?" I actually narrowed my eyes at my uncle. "This some kind of setup?"

"Shut up!" he shouted. "A prank is…dumping cold water on someone while they're in a hot shower. This, what's going on now, will most likely be the biggest opportunity you'll get to prove yourself."

I nodded. "I love and trust Dad. It's just—like Dame—my father can be a sadistic fuck." I put my palms up, laying it out there. "I said it."

"And you're not lying," he laughed.

It became quiet for a few minutes while my mind reeled. "Prove myself?" I thought about that for another couple seconds. "For what? Lately, Dad's been conferring with me a lot, but he hasn't said dick about why he's doing so…and you're talking about him testing me." I munched on my lip.

"Who counsels you?" he asked.

"Counsels?" I grinned. "You, Dad…sometimes I blow up Maggie's ear, but she's clueless most times. My wife's not exactly a criminal mastermind." I laughed. "I…I mostly…when coming to my own conclusions, think them out myself. When I was younger, I always thought it'd be Dame because…he'd never wanna run a crew, and the kid doesn't give a fuck about money. He's not the best logical thinker and he's immature, but he'd take my secrets to his grave."

"Of course he would—just like your dad and I would. Our silence is golden, but your _consigliere_ should be a lawyer—solid confidentiality clause and all that," he said.

"My _consigliere_?" I stared at him, wanting him to say it. "Are you telling me I need one? Need to pick one?"

When he sipped his drink and got quiet, I continued, "Why not tell me? He wants me to be ready, but how can I be when I don't know what he's really up to? Dad's really looking to, to retire?"

_The thought was actually unimaginable. _

"And he really wants _me_ taking over?" I shook my head in disbelief.

My father told me that one day everything he had would be mine.

He'd give me the keys to the castle, but I never really took his words to heart.

Dad's the best at what he does. He fucking enjoys it, too—starts trouble just to scheme and make more money, along with having his hand in every-fucking-thing. Maybe others do for him, like they do me. But I know that having other players allows you to do more. He's always got a lot going on.

Even if he likes getting his hands dirty, he can't . . . and he doesn't have to.

"Or…would I just be the figurehead to get the heat off him with the Feds?" I asked.

"How can you be so smart _and_ so fucking stupid?" Carlisle cracked up, laughing. "That shit I just said? Your father used to ask me that all the time."

"Listen, I just wanna get to the bottom of things…would like you to spell it out," I acquiesced.

In truth, I was still trying to process the fact that Dad's stepping back . . .

Carlisle stepped closer to me and looked behind himself. "Aro's been your father's scapegoat for years…and I hear Andino's not looking to go anywhere. He'll be your front…keep the Feds in the dark." He shrugged. "But…with how confused you seem…" he trailed off, his voice taking a somber tone. "I never thought…I never thought we'd make it this far, Sonny."

I furrowed my brow. "What do you mean?"

"All the shit Edward and I'd been through…There were times I thought he'd pop me himself," he laughed. "But with history lessons, your father and I both know our lives could have taken completely different turns. Even if we've been dragged through the mud a few times, even if we'd had our hearts broken because we've been hurt—we've truly been blessed."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You know as well as I do that _most_ bosses don't get to retire . . ." He paused, staring up to the ceiling. "When Misone ran shit…New York was _maybe_ as big as Jersey is now, and that was big for an organization during that time. Wait, lemme go back. Tell you some shit you might not know," he laughed.

"Back in the 80s, organized crime—the five families—were wiped out by wars and a crackdown that sent dozens of people to the can. But—" he held up a finger "—those who were still around would meet in secret with the only boss leftover—Volturi. However, no one was making money. With technology getting better, the Feds putting a stop to the only ways guys like us would make paper, and fucking street gangs trying to move in and do their thing, there was an upheaval. _Your_ grandfather—_my_ father and Marcus Misone—thought things could be run differently. My dad was a driver, was in law school, and his friend had all these ideas on how to make more money while also covering their asses…you know? Then RICO came about, and everyone needed to be more careful. Your father and I were thrown into it at the height of that, which is why you know all those crafty little ways to thwart the F.B.I." His face lit up. "Your father made that a fucking art form."

I nodded, listening intently while my phone vibrated on the desk; I didn't dare look at it.

"They were doing hits, robbing fuckers, running books, fucking with the others who thought they could just come in and take it . . . Everyone was making money, and Misone . . . He pretty much groomed your father to be what he is, but…this thing and that thing happened…" He massaged his forehead again, his face falling. "Actually, the same year you were born, was the same year it was Misone's time to go. You feel me?"

I gestured for him to continue since I'd heard the story before. In my father's version, Misone was shady, was only looking out for himself and shit; he wanted Dad out after he'd brought him in.

"But even so—no matter what Misone's beef was—time had passed yet again, which meant _everything _would essentially change. Out with the old and in with the new...and it was Misone's turn to be stubborn, like those before him. He didn't want to expand at all. He wouldn't build alliances wit' others. He wouldn't listen to your father's ideas, guys were getting lazy, and…it was basically time for a new boss anyway. . . Long story short, _your father_ built this empire." He widened his arms.

"No one's ever done that shit before, kid. You have some big shoes to fill, and…I don't know who in their right minds would be envious—want your crown—but I know my brother. If he thought you couldn't handle it…" He shrugged. "He'd never, _never ever_. He'd bust his ass to keep it all going if he thought _for a second_ his kingdom would be burnt to the ground."

I won't lie; his words had me feeling emotional. "He thinks I can do it?" I whispered.

"He knows you can. He's just been reluctant to tell you, wanted you to be ready in your own time…didn't want you getting antsy or greedy, whatever."

I laughed. "He thinks I'd pop him for the throne?" Maybe my father and I didn't know each other as well as I thought we did.

"No," he said. "But you might have started doing things to prove yourself…This way, your father could control it, while also letting you come into your own by yourself. I get it as it's plain as day. Do you?"

"Yeah…" I cleared my throat.

"Good."

"He's retiring? For real?" I asked.

Carlisle smiled. "I know he wants to slow down, and he wants you to handle this shit right here. When he comes back...Edward will be the Skip until Edward says otherwise."

I nodded.

"Now get your head out of your ass and start making some decisions." He squeezed my shoulder.

We both had a chuckle at his words.

"I should send them away?" He knew who I meant by _them_.

"Your father would, just for the weekend, and then play it by ear. You don't know what's going to happen at that sit-down. You could try to mediate, and one won't wanna settle. As soon as one of them goes against what you say? We're in it, Sonny . . . I know Luke will appreciate you coming through. Luke'll back whatever you say, and he'll do whatever you want, especially if you reinstate the treaty. We've never had problems with Mike or Philly ever before. I can't see problems starting now. They're a smaller organization than Jersey, but you don't know the end result."

"Yeah," I agreed, grabbing my phone to send Dame a text.

_Come to Eclipse ASAP—S_

"But what do I get outta this?" I asked. "Philly has nothing I want."

"Luke?"

I scrunched my nose. "He has nothing I want either." I pursed my lips, thinking. "Luke's gonna want the alliance reinstated." Only thing I truly knew about Luke was that he's scared shitless of my father. "I'll make Luke do whatever to squash their beef. I'll tell Luke the alliance is reinstated, and he can have our help if he needs it.

Carlisle lit a cigarette. "Reinstating the treaty is on the table, but what is he gonna give up for it?"

I racked my brain, trying to think on that. "I want a house down on the shore, a place I can bring Maggie in the summer."

"Sounds good." He nodded. "Those could go for a few mil easy."

"A weekend away…It's summer and whatnot, it'll be good for Maggie and Kylie," I said, wondering where they could go. "We have Maggie's twelve-week ultra sound at five." I looked to the time, seeing how early in the day it still was. "Maybe we can move it up, or…cancel." My face fell, disappointment filling me.

"Relax…They can leave tomorrow, you have dinner with Luke and Mike on Saturday, and then we'll know what's up." He shrugged.

Something didn't sit right with me, though. "Knowing we could be dragged into this war…Dad just…whisks Mom away to Hawaii…in the summer?" I raised a brow, wondering how much fucking hotter it'd be there in the middle of June. I know not to travel south of the equator or out west to Vegas—unless I wanna be miserable—in the summer months.

Carlisle grinned down at me. "They're in fucking Plattsburgh, you moron."

"Why lie to me, of all people?" I shouted as my phone went off.

Dame had texted me back.

_I'll be there in twenty—D _

"Because…Edward doesn't want anyone to know he's stateside, let alone still in New York…for obvious reasons. So…he lied, but I just told you now, and your siblings are to continue to believe they're in Hawaii. And no, your father would never do some shit like that…legit leave you, his family, and his organization high and dry. Fuck. He might not even retire. The way he is…He'll do part-time, maybe run a crew again." He winked. "I'm kidding…But while you'll have the title, while you'll run things the way _you_ see fit…Sonny, we're not going anywhere."

"Right." I'd never admit how elated I was to hear that.

Again, I just couldn't imagine running things without Dad, without Carlisle's logic, and Aro's compassion.

The three of them all bring something different to the table, and I've learned a lot from them—like to think I've gained my attributes from them. I know how to listen, how to compromise, how and when to show mercy, and I know when a firm hand is needed.

At the end of the day, though . . .

And I could see it now, when I didn't before.

All that riding my ass Dad has been doing…Was he truly grooming me from day one? From the day I was born?

Because he actually has a very different parenting style when it comes to Damion and Kylie.

And I wanted to hug that fucker so badly in this moment, while I was also a bit pissed he wasn't here—didn't want to spell it out himself.

Still, the confidence I had at hearing everything…

"Call Aro and Jasper back in here." I jerked my chin to the door.

Carlisle clapped. "Okay." He nodded. "Did you hear what they were saying, though, before?"

I nodded. "Yeah, capos are split—between wanting to put shit to rest and then those wanting to line up to fight." I shrugged. "But the general consensus is that we have to do something—no question."

"And you want to settle it?"

"Absolutely," I said.

"Excellent." He winked at me before he left the office, and I picked up my phone.

I paused, not sure how to reply to Maggie, and I wasn't sure what I could and should say to Dame.

I highly doubted any of them would go quietly and without question.

Luckily, not a minute had passed and they entered the office again.

Aro wore a bright smile. "Santino…" He widened his arms and came over to kiss my cheeks.

Surprised by the sentiment, I laughed.

"It's a great thing," he whispered.

I patted his back, and he went to have a seat.

"You came to a conclusion?" Jasper sipped his drink. "Guys are dicking our balls about this." He gestured between Aro and himself. "They want answers—not to pressure you." My cousin showed me a lot more respect than he has in the past—having always ridden me hard like my father, contesting the things I did.

"I have," I said, rocking back in my chair. "I plan to invite Luke and Mike to dinner. The three of you will also be there—" Carlisle slightly shook his head "—I mean," I felt like such a dumbass "It's probably better Carlisle and I go at this alone. You know?"

My uncle smiled while Aro and Jasper nodded me along.

"Because—" Aro raised a brow "—I'll also be holding my own dinner party…in honor of the Feds," he chuckled, "where I plan to relay your message to the capos."

"Right." I blew out a breath. "I hope to put this shit to bed. In the event that doesn't happen . . . I have it on good authority that Luke will be more than happy to sit with me. But if Mike doesn't, or he doesn't agree to resolve matters…then…we'll meet again and devise a strategy on how to end it. Even if it means taking Philly out." I pursed my lips, my eyes looking to each of them. "Fuck it. We can only be balls-in or balls-out."

I expected that at least one of them would argue with me—have something different in mind—but they didn't.

"Do you…agree?" I asked.

My uncle gave me that little shake to his head again, but I knew it _wasn't_ because he didn't agree.

As acting boss, or whatever I am, I had to be 100% confident of my own words.

I'm just used to developing plans WITH them, not necessarily bossing those two—Carlisle and Aro.

'Cause, fuck…Even if I've always loved to bust Aro's balls, especially when it came to plowing his daughter, I was a low-man on his crew.

That's where I started.

"Yes," Aro answered. "We agree." He looked to my uncle. "Remember when this little fucker was in diapers?"

"I do." Carlisle looked to his watch. "While they're fine memories…they make me feel like the fucking crypt keeper—old and shit."

I smiled, about to conclude this with my father's words. "Anything else I should know?"

Jasper finished his drink. "Not from me. My crew's meeting me in an hour. Youse are good?" He looked to us all.

"Yeah." I stood up to shake his hand. "Thanks for coming through."

He patted my bicep. "Always. You need anything, you call."

"Thanks." I nodded, respecting that immensely, because in the past…there have always been pissing matches between us. He was never as bad as Caius, but just as annoying. However, if my father always kept Jasper at arm's length, I guess he's had a reason. "I'll remember that." I walked him to the door.

In the hall, I saw Momo making his way toward me. "Sonny!"

"What's up?" I asked over the music. It was crazy early. But those who were very eager for me to make a decision littered Eclipse, just waiting. I thought they were waiting on us—as a group—because Aro, Carlisle, and Jasper were here.

"Your brother's here, but Skip—"

"It's okay. Send him back," I said.

"Okay." He nodded, walking off.

"Baby Skip." Aro put his arm around me. "We'll be at the bar…having a drink for you. You come over before you take off." He poked my chest, looking so happy for me, it was weird.

"Definitely," I agreed.

My uncle patted my back before leaving the office with him. They paused to greet Dame while I waited for my brother in the doorway. By his demeanor alone, I could tell he was nervous.

Christ.

If _I_ wanted to avoid war . . .

Damion was almost frantic when he called me that night asking questions. I wanted to tell him to fuck off so bad, still sour about that Noah shit, but I couldn't.

"What's up?" Damion entered.

I closed the door after him. "Have a seat…was it hard for you to get away?"

He sat in the chair opposite my desk. "I said I had a family emergency…Jordan asked questions I couldn't answer. Will I be able to answer her?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He blew out a breath. "What happened? When's Dad coming back? What's—"

"Slow down." I poured him a shot of Jack. "Drink that."

He chuckled, holding his forehead. "I'm fine…just hungry, no _starving_ for information."

I smirked. "You sound like the rabid dogs out on the floor."

"Well…" He shrugged.

"Last I heard, you didn't want to be involved." I wasn't going to burden him with an abundance of information he might not truly want. If I had to guess, he was worried about one of us getting hurt—safety.

"Hey, I may not have my button…but there's nothing anyone can do. I'm still a Cullen. I'll always be a Cullen, and…you need anything…I'm here." His gaze fell to the floor. "I'm doing my own thing, but…"

"Thank you." I pushed the shot he hadn't drunk toward him. "Drink."

He rolled his eyes and downed the Jack. "Happy?" He showed me his tongue.

I smiled wide. "Everything you just said…that's called loyalty, respect. I'm sure Dad would love to hear that."

Dame stared at me head on. "But I'm telling you…I'm sorry for punking you, but hitting you back never sits right with me—legit hurting you—and that shit was funny."

I sighed, waving a hand.

"Sonny…" He paused, leaning toward me. "We haven't spoken in a while…I know something must be up—for you to have called me—but I've, I've actually had some shit to tell you. I've needed to talk to you for a while now. Guess I just...didn't have the balls."

"Are you okay?" I was concerned.

"_I'm_ fine." He grinned. "I'm_ finally_ fine…and…I wanted to apologize. You did _everything_ to help me, and I—"

"Don't," I said. "I don't want an apology. You were going through some shit—"

"I lied to you…so many fucking times and for all the wrong reasons." He looked away again.

I nodded, accepting that because I've known that for a while. All of which…confused me even more. "I know…Look…" I laughed, sitting back. "If you wanna tell me, tell me. We'll put everything out on the table and we'll clear the air. But if you don't, I respect that, too."

I sipped the Jack Daniels. "I'd like to, if it's okay with you—" I wanted to lead by example. If Carlisle could be the bigger man, then so could I. "Move on…I want my brother back…Dame, I begrudge you nothing. I just wish I could have helped you. Dad's the same, just wants to be there. All we want is…for you to let us."

Dame stared at the ceiling, his eyes a bit watery. "I'm such a pussy."

"You're not…You just said…you're Damion Cullen." I held out the bottle of whiskey.

"Thanks." He sipped it. "Thank you…I'd like that…to have a clean slate with you."

"Cool." I was relieved and so happy to hear that. "You essentially have dick to prove to me. You know? But…I need you to step up again, Dame. I need your help."

He furrowed his brow. "Can I smoke in here?" He dug his pack from his pocket.

"Yeah."

"Here." He threw one at me.

I smiled, getting the ashtray out my desk drawer. "I don't know what's going to happen—what'll be the end result." I lit my smoke while he did the same. "But I gotta meet with Luke and Mike this weekend, Mike from Philly."

"Why you?" He grimaced. "Why isn't Dad here?"

"He…asked that I take care of it," I said. "But since I don't know what's up, or what'll happen, I'm going to get you a whip, give you some cash…and you're going to take Maggie and Kylie away this weekend."

He scratched his eyebrow. "Fuck me, man."

"You're probably worried about Jordan…I don't think you have anything to worry about. If she can't or won't leave…If shit goes sour and you're still away but concerned, I'll have her on the first flight to you or back to the farm—wherever she's from." I shrugged. "You have my word, but…Jordan's pretty far removed. She can stay right where she is, but Dad would kick my ass if I didn't get you and Kylie outta the city."

"Yeah." He blew his smoke into the air. "What do I even tell her?"

"She's not your wife, but...do you trust her?" I asked.

"I do…" He looked contemplative.

"Look, youse ain't married. You wanna talk to her, you trust her...I ask you keep all family biz to a minimum." I didn't know what else to say, knowing he was in a shitty position, while also knowing he had to tell her something. I wouldn't do that, forbid him from at least trying to explain. "Jordan will be fine. We've got nothing to worry about, but you, as the Skip's son, need to get outta town." I had to say it again, so it'd sink into his brain. "Honestly, I don't care what you tell her. Tell her you need to go on a trip this weekend. She can come or stay, but _you_ have to go."

"You don't understand our program, or how dedicated she is, or…how I can't even get her to play hooky for one fucking day!" he ranted.

"You know I'll get youse any documentation you'll need to excuse your absences. I'm more than confident that it'll only be for this weekend." I put the cigarette out; I didn't even want it. "I'm sure nothing will come from it—that it'll be resolved and there won't be any beef, but I don't know for sure. I do, however, know that if she _doesn't_ leave with you guys—"

"Dude, you don't have to worry about Maggie, or me being a pig."

I continued like he hadn't said that. "If Jordan doesn't go with you guys, your mind will always be on her. You might slip and disclose your location—God forbid if anyone's listening—with calling her every few hours. I need you to step up and be on point. So, you decide what you wanna tell her, bro."

"I'll lay it out there without laying it out." He nodded along. "If she doesn't want to leave…it's only a weekend." His face fell. "But what about you? I'll go to the meeting with you, have your back…We can send Kylie and Maggie away with, with…whoever else is going to lam it for the weekend." He shrugged, smiling widely. "Get me a fucking nine and we'll do this. You and me, like old times...rolling together!"

I laughed, and he'd never know how much I'd truly want that—him riding with me.

Despite the fact that I'd be sitting with two bosses—that they'd never say dick in front of someone of Dame's status, I chose not to say that. "You wanna have my back? You wanna help me the best you can? I trust you…I trust you to protect Kylie and my wife to the best of your ability—better than anyone else can. Help clear my mind—help keep it clear and on point."

Dame sat back in the chair. "You really…think that? Trust me?"

"Of course I do!" I nearly shouted.

"Okay," he agreed. "I…." His voice was shaky and emotional as he stared away from me.

"What's up, Dame? Talk to me," I pleaded, as I hadn't seen _this_ side to my brother in a long time.

"Nothing…just…thank you for the clean slate, this chance. I'll keep them safe, I'll do whatever it takes, but you better fucking call me—lemme know what's up, so I don't go insane."

"All right." I could agree to that. "Figure out where you wanna go. I bet Peto'll be riding along, too."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to fucking Platts. That place makes me sick."

"No…you're not," I laughed, but them running into our parents would be ideal. "Go wherever. Handle it. I'll give you cash and shit, but…" I hated to cut such a great visit short. "You should go, talk to Jordan…I have to leave in a few anyway, but be at my crib tonight. Spend the night and youse leave before sun up."

"Okay." He guzzled some more Jack down before blowing out a breath and standing there, expectant.

I rose from my chair to walk him out. "This seriously takes a load off my mind—" I stumbled back when he jumped to hug me tight. "Damion…talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Why does shit get hot and I feel like I'm eight again? What the fuck is wrong with me?" he rambled out.

"You're an adult now, Damion...you're a man." I pulled away to palm his cheeks. "And no matter what I say that might ease your fears…you're still going to worry…because that's all we know how to do. I mean…" I let go of him to smile. "Certain things will always flash you back to this memory or that. It's normal, but you're going to be fine. We're all going to be fine. I swear. This is just a precaution."

"Yeah…" He nodded. "But where the fuck is Dad?!" Dame shouted. "He's just leaving you with all this shit…"

"He's not leaving me with anything, Dame. Dad's doing nothing wrong. Just like I'm asking you to step up," I poked his chest, "he also asked the same of me." I didn't know if I should tell him all that my uncle had told me, not until my father truly confirms it. "I was asked to handle this...things this weekend."

"He's in Hawaii fucking Mom while you're—"

I shook my head to stop him, to stop him from jumping to conclusions. No matter how much I wanted to tell him that Dad was hours away instead of thousands of miles, I didn't.

Above certain things, I knew I had to shield the truth to shield others.

"Look, if Dad actually thought something would happen…he'd be here. Okay?" I placed my arm around him and ushered him to the door. "We're good…Trust me."

"I do…trust you," he said.

"Good." I ruffled his hair, feeling so much better about everything. "Be at my crib by like seven or eight tonight. All right?" I gave him a fist pound.

"I'll be there…but send a car for me, so I don't gotta take the subway."

I laughed. "Can we get you your own whip this year?"

"We'll see." He chuckled, turning from me.

Once he was gone, I grabbed my things, a duffle full of cash, and I made the few arrangements I had to—got Dame a minivan for this weekend.

When I was about to go join my uncle and Aro at the bar, they met me at the door.

"I spoke to Luke," Carlisle said. "It's on. He appreciates your help, and he'll meet wherever you call the sit-down."

"On my terms?" I cocked a brow.

"It has to be neutral ground—somewhere there's no beef for them both," he replied. "They're hiding…will only pop their heads out if it's safe."

"Midnight Sun," Aro said. "They'll come with their entourages, but…we'll make sure we got our heads waiting in the wings. I'll set it up so I'm not too far with our cappys. Capisce?"

I shook my head. "All of us meeting like that…in close quarters…Luke and Mike will be clocked into the city. They'll bring more Feds _to_ us. I want my crew—a few knockaround guys around the club, and we'll meet at Twilight. They'll expect Midnight Sun or Eclipse." I shrugged.

"I'm waiting on Mike to call me back," Carlisle said. "He knew who I was…was grateful for the call, but the Feds are watching him. He's gonna call back when he knows he's got a clean line—when he can get to a pay phone. And he sounded desperate. I think…Jersey's doin' a lot better than we expected."

That didn't sit right with me for whatever reason. But since an alliance had already been made, I was to look out for Luke's best interest over Mike's. "Set it up…call me when you know or stop by my house later."

"You ready to go? They're bringing my car around." Aro was to leave minutes before me, so the F.B.I. would follow him now that Dad was away, and so that I could leave while remaining under the radar.

"You don't get tired of…giving them the runaround?" I laughed.

"Nope…It's fun." He smiled. "And what am I doing? I'm going home to chillax with Lisa. They can chill curbside and wait for some wild shit to pop off." He widened his eyes. "Clueless fuckers."

I nodded, happy with that. "Yeah…I'm ready to go. My car's in back."

"You need anything?" Carlisle asked.

I shook my head because…I had money, I had a car ready for them. When Dad left he gave me Kylie's and Damion's alias paperwork, and I already have one for Maggie… "Can you talk to my wife for me?" I whispered.

Carlisle laughed. "Fuck, no. That's all on you—she's young, emo, and pregnant." He shuddered. "I did _my_ time…"

"I'm sayin'." Aro gave Carlisle a fist pound. "Between _our_ wives…_your_ mother…always tryin'a look out and soothe this one or that one…It's your time."

"Yeah…" I nodded. "I could always be a dick and not give her a choice—put my foot down."

"Ha!" Aro shouted. "I'm out…but you lemme know how _that_ works for you." He hit my shoulder and took off for the exit.

I sighed, looking to my watch so he'd have a ten-minute head start.

"Look, your father told me that your mother tells Maggie a lot more than she has to. I know B coached Alex back in the day. I'm sure Maggie knows that, if you need her to bounce, it's for her best interest," Carlisle explained.

I snorted. "Yeah…your mouth to God's ears."

**/=/=/=/=/**

_**A**_lthough I had no fucking clue about how I'd break it down for my wife and then my sister, I was fine—not that nervous.

I was more anxious for us to get to Maggie's doctor's appointment.

When I walked through the door, I was surprised to smell bleach, a lemony-pine scent, and other chemicals.

Noah ran to bite my pant leg, and I gently kicked him away. "Yo…?" I called out.

The foyer floor actually shined, and when I looked into the living room, that was spotless, too.

"I'm just finishing up, was cleaning!" Maggie emerged from the kitchen wearing very loose, yet heavy clothing, a pair of yellow gloves, and a mask.

"Uh…" I shook my head.

She took off the mask and gloves. "Take off your shoes."

I smiled at her while I kicked them away. "Okay."

"Kylie and Gio just had a pizza delivered—they're by the pool." She fanned her t-shirt. "I gotta hurry and get dressed. I hoped to be ready before you got home—"

"Did you eat?" I walked over to kiss her happy lips. "Hmmm. I can taste the pizza." It made me hungry.

She giggled through her nose yet into my mouth. "What's in the bag?"

"Stuff." I placed it down behind Maggie before gathering her into my arms. "You excited for the doctor?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I can't wait to see…I know we won't see much, but…I wanna hear the heartbeat, so I know it's okay."

I grinned. "You're twelve weeks, baby." My hand went to her stomach.

She blew out a breath. "You just gave me butterflies." She held me there.

"That means the baby did a black flip," I laughed. "And you're officially in the second trimester." She knows I'd previously read shit about pregnancy because of Katie.

"I'm getting solid, but I hope I start showing soon—"

"And then we'll tell your parents?" I hedged, because she's been avoiding them like the plague.

"Yeah…" She swayed a bit. "I gotta go shower. Care to join me?" Maggie rose to her toes to bite my chin and palm my junk.

And I was a fool to deny her, but if we were going to make it to the appointment on time . . .

And I hoped these fuck-me-all-the-time hormones extend through the rest of her pregnancy…

"We have like…a half-hour to get there. You shouldn't even shower. Just change your clothes," I explained, anxious to get there already.

"It's only a few blocks away, and we can be quick," she sighed. "But I get it. Are you home for the night?" Maggie trailed toward the stairs.

I nodded. "All night…we gotta talk, too."

She pouted. "Fuck…I hate when you say that, but I knew it was coming."

"You did?" I asked as I tried not to grin at her. "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah…" She grumbled her way to the bathroom.

Hopeful that our conversation would go well, I went outside to say hello and grab some pizza.

Unfortunately, Kylie was straddling Peto in a beach chair.

I cleared my throat.

"Shit." Peto nearly pushed her into me.

I caught Kylie. "Fucking relax." This kid is so fucking jumpy around me. "I'm not my father…" I always liked Peto, but if Dad saw that, he'd probably lose his shit.

Kylie was trying to catch her breath. "Why you home early?"

"Maggie and I are going to the doctor."

"Oh…I thought we were taking her." Kylie gestured to Peto.

"No…" I laughed, grabbing a slice. "I appreciate it. Thanks." Starving, I was quick to take a huge bite of pizza.

"Sonny…my favorite big brother." Kylie batted her eyelashes.

I furrowed my brow, chewing and taking another bite. "What do you want?"

She grimaced, wiping spittle off her forearms.

"Sorry." I still had a mouthful.

Kylie flashed me a toothy grin. "Can you get Gio and me into Midnight Sun tonight? Please!"

I threw the half-a-slice back into the box. "No," I said, and before she could continue, I said, "While we're gone, you're not to leave. Do you understand that?" I stared at Peto. "You don't leave this house. We'll be back in like an hour, and then I gotta talk to youse."

"We're nineteen—"

"I'm not asking you. I'm _telling_ you, and if youse leave?" I looked to Peto and then to Kylie again. "I'll kick his ass while you watch."

"Sonny!" Kylie hit me.

"I just want you to know how serious I am." I wiped my hands clean.

"I'm calling Dame, or Mom, because—"

I stole her phone away. "You wanna call your dad?" I raised a brow to Peto. "Be my guest. But I need to talk to you guys…make plans for this weekend, unless…you'd like to spend the weekend separated."

Kylie gasped and turned to her boyfriend.

"Bro, you got my word." Peto rose to shake my hand. "We'll be here."

"I wanna know everything." Kylie sounded scared. "Are Mom and Dad coming home…?"

I shook my head as I palmed her cheek. "You gotta trust me, Kylie Cat."

Her lip quivered. "This stuff scares me."

"Because it's scary." I nodded. "Wherever you go, Gio, Maggie, and Dame'll be going with you."

"What about you?" she asked. "We'll all go…or none of us go."

I grinned despite myself. "Come on…A weekend away with Dame calling the shots?" I raised a brow. "You know he don't care as long as you're safe."

"Stop..." She wiped under her eyes. "Why isn't Dad here?"

I sighed, wondering how many times I'd be asked that. "It's not the apocalypse. It's not anything but a weekend trip," I laughed. "I'm not scared." I pointed to myself.

"You can't exactly tell us what's going on to ease our fears either," she cried. "I want Mom…" She hugged me, much like Damion did earlier.

"Shhh." I kissed her wet hair. "You have to relax." I started to sway us. "I told you. It's nothing serious…I'm not worried, so don't you be. But I do need you to trust me. I need you to be…brave because I won't be there for Maggie, and I need you not to give Dame a hard time."

"What's going on?" Maggie was behind me.

Turning to face her, I saw that she was dressed and ready to go.

My gaze whipped back to my sister. "Can you do that?" I asked Kylie.

"Yeah," she whispered, backing up to join Gio on the chair again.

"Everything will be fine…just don't leave this house."

"We won't," Gio assured me. "But...I should call my father?"

I nodded.

Then I went to Maggie to usher us into the house and out the front door. She started to ask questions while I scooped my shoes back on, but I gave her a quick and sloppy kiss instead of answering.

We were running late already.

She kept her curious eyes on me until we entered the car.

And I didn't know where to start.

"What'd you hear?"

"Just…from you not being here this weekend." She grabbed my hand.

I stopped at a light. "I'll be here…but you guys won't be here."

"I—"

"Listen, we've established that I can be a dick, but if I have to send you away and put my foot down…I'll do it. I don't want to do that. I'll answer any and all questions you have to…try and ease your fears. But then…again, you can't tell Kylie what I tell you." I picked her hand up to kiss it. "I've said this before…the only way someone could hurt me is by hurting you."

And it killed me that I couldn't break shit down for everybody.

Because it truly wasn't a big deal.

Them going away was a precaution and that's it.

I was confident all problems would be settled by Sunday, when everyone could come home.

"Santino…we haven't spent a whole weekend apart…since before we even met." She started to cry.

"Shhh." I pinched her cheek. "It's three days, four at the most…We'll talk quite a few times a day. You know I'm going to miss you, too."

She shook her head. "I'm-I'm not going to fight you." Now she was full-on sobbing. "I'm-I'm just gonna miss you-uu... I think it's the hormones…or I love you too much."

I laughed. "Probably both…" My hand found her thigh, and I gave it a squeeze. "Come on, baby. Stop crying. Youse going away is an extreme—extreme precaution. Everything will be fine…so, be sad 'cause you'll _miss_ me, but that's it." I shrugged, pulling into the parking lot.

"Okay." She wiped under her eyes.

Once I placed the car in park, I leaned over the center console. "C'mere."

She kissed me, let me explore her mouth, but I pulled away when I noticed her hair was a knotted mess. "We were running late…I barely washed."

I grinned. "You smell good, though…" A grunt escaped me as I sniffed her neck, quickly nibbling on her earlobe.

"It's the shampoo…but I didn't use conditioner," she sighed. "I'm sorry you married a slob."

"Stop!" I shook my head, always hating when she puts herself down, while I left the car. "You're not a slob. You're beautiful."

She looked down in the dumps as she plucked her t-shirt. "I'm just..."

"You're gorgeous!" I nearly shouted. "Get that other shit out your head, all right? I don't wanna hear you putting yourself down no more." My chest actually felt tight. That's how much I hate it. Maggie can't wait until she starts showing actual belly, a baby bump, because she thinks she's just gaining weight, feels gross. But she's blind. She doesn't see what I see. "You wanna feel how hard my cock is right now?"

She giggled and kept walking.

"C'mere, baby. Come feel it." I chased her while she continued to laugh.

After grabbing her, we walked into the office.

Then I rubbed my dick against her while we stood at reception. We gained a few old glances, but I didn't give a fuck.

It kept my Maggie smiling.

The lobby was practically empty, so I hoped we'd get to the sonogram part soon.

"Santino..." Maggie whined, squirming in her seat.

I stopped kissing her neck. "I can't help it. You're too beautiful." I turned her chin back to me. "You know you are."

She grinned. "You made your point." Maggie kept her tone low. "But I'm going to explode if you keep..." She huffed, licking her lips. "You don't know what it's like...wanting to fuck you all the time."

I barked out a laugh.

"I'm serious," she said.

"Baby..." I just stared into her eyes because I knew exactly what she was saying. "You know...I'm a horny fucker."

Her brow furrowed, and her chest was heaving. "I just wanna get in bed," she leaned toward me, "spread my legs...and you fuck me. I need you to have me...take me."

I inhaled deeply through my nose, reaching to massage her neck. When she shuddered, I took my hand back. "I-I can do that." I nodded while my mouth watered at the thought alone. "I promise." I went to steal another kiss, but Maggie jumped at me to stick her tongue down my throat.

I fucking went with it, palming that ass, not giving a fuck if we were in public.

_Because that's what she does to me. _

My love...

"Cullen?" someone asked. "Margaret Cullen?"

"We're here!" Maggie hopped back.

And I had the only fucking hard on.

While we followed that broad into the back, I had Maggie walk directly in front of me.

What I didn't expect was for my wife to reach behind herself and palm my dick.

"Stop," I hissed, hoping my erection would die down.

Before she could do it again, we were escorted to an exam room, and then I helped Maggie into a paper gown.

After all the shit we'd been doing, I barely looked at her.

I didn't even want to see a tit, although I knew I'd be seeing everything regardless.

We behaved.

The doctor came to knock not five minutes later. Usually, we have to wait another fifteen to twenty minutes for him. I was surprised.

The last time we were here, they took blood from Maggie for some testing, and we asked about that first.

The screening, or whatever it's called, came back negative. Maggie's blood was perfect, all of her levels are normal, and we both sighed in relief. All week, while we've been excited for the ultrasound, which is also a part of this screening, but Maggie's been nervous. She's been worrying about birth defects. I've been trying my best to ease her fears, telling her we shouldn't worry until we're given a reason.

"Everything okay?" I asked, holding Maggie's hand.

The doctor was feeling around down there and on her stomach while he stared at the wall. "So far, so good." He smiled at us and then took off his gloves—to bring that machine over. He got it ready, and then put another pair of gloves on…

The room was too quiet, and Maggie kept her eyes closed.

"It's picture time," he announced, bringing the wand-like thing over to her abdomen.

We heard static, but then… "Holy shit!" I shouted, bending low to kiss Maggie; meanwhile, my eyes didn't leave the screen—where we saw our baby for the first time. I didn't need medical training to decipher much. It just looked like a very teeny, tiny baby. I saw the outline of the head, the entire body—arms and legs—and the heartbeat was crazy fast and loud. "You hear that?"

Maggie hiccupped. "Yeah…" She was crying again.

"Come on, Momma. Smile for me." I looked away to look at her, and I had butterflies in my stomach—my breath caught in my throat, and then I felt my lip quiver.

Maggie smiled at me while _I_ started crying.

That was when the doc decided to talk. "Heart rate is perfect—as are the ratios."

"What's that mean?" I wiped under my nose.

"The baby's okay, healthy," Maggie whispered.

I nodded, blowing out a breath. "He…or she's…going to stay that way." The smile returned to my lips.

The doctor proceeded to print some pictures for us. I wanted like ten of those fuckers, so I'd be able to give one to Mom, Dad, and anyone who'd want one.

We racked up on Baby Cullen photos because Poppa Cullen shelled out some cash . . . I had to pay for the extras.

But everything was great.

Maggie and the baby were in perfect shape, and I thanked God.

"I knew something was up with this weekend," she admitted, once we'd reentered the car.

I pulled out of the spot, still wearing a smile as we headed home. "How?"

"Your Mom…and Alex." She blew out a breath. "They couldn't tell me everything but that everyone would be going away again…Wherever they'd go."

"I'm glad they warned you…Did Mom talk to Kylie at all?"

She shook her head and then yawned. "I'm so tired…But, no, not that I know of. I didn't know anything, really, and I've been waiting for you to spit it out…since your mom left for upstate—I mean—away."

I chuckled. "She told you to keep that a secret, huh?"

"She didn't want me to worry and, thus, miscarry under stress, which only had me more stressed." And she was crying again. "Who says that? Like I'm not already scared!"

"Shhh." I actually wore a smile, curious to know how Dame will fare with them this weekend. "You're fine. The baby is fine, and we're going to be fine."

"I know," she whispered.

"So, stop crying." My tone was still soothing. "You'll be back home Monday—Tuesday the latest. Okay?"

"You'll answer all my texts and calls?" She sounded fine now; she shut those tears off, which she's getting better at.

"If, for whatever reason, I can't have my phone on…I'll get you a number where I can be reached." I pulled into our driveway.

"Okay…" She still looked so sad, though.

"Maggie." I took my keys out of the ignition. "These pictures—whenever you miss me or feel sad, I want you to look at these pictures and smile."

"Yeah." Her glassy eyes betrayed her smile. "But you have to swear you'll be okay."

"I'll be fine…as long as you're okay, I'm fine."

"All right." She crashed her lips to mine. "We-we have to make love before—"

"Fuck, yeah, we are!" I chuckled, holding her cheek. "Yo..." My eyes trailed lower, drinking in the sight of my gorgeous wife. "I hope you're not too tired."

Maggie turned from me to run out of the car.

I laughed as I watched her scramble to the house, fumbling with her keys.

"Now!" she hollered.

"Yes, ma'am!" I nodded, closing the car door, and I still wore a smile.

Maggie was flushed as she disappeared into the house.

Pausing in the foyer, I counted my blessings once more.

"Santino!"

"I'm coming!" I ran up the stairs.

* * *

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts.**_

_**See ya next week! **_


	48. Crawl to Montauk

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA. **

****NOTE** This is a long one, so get a comfortable chair.**

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Forty-Eight: Crawl to Montauk**

**Damion POV**

"Like…mob guys are gonna come after me?" Jordan shouted.

"Shhh…Fuck, no!" I snapped.

She spoke over me. "That's crap. What do _I_ have to do with anything? I don't believe you." She chuckled, like this was all a fucking joke.

_Jordan has no idea. _

"No…Jesus. Nobody's gonna hurt you." We were in the stairwell, as I had to sneak back in, or risk being put back to work. "Baby…I'm not saying that." I'd previously broken shit down for her—but I truly didn't say much—and I asked her to come away with me.

"I'm safe…but you and your sister are, like, a liability?" she asked.

"Something like that," I answered.

I wanted to say so much more…

I wanted to ease her fears—_if she had any—_but I also wanted her to come with me.

So, no, I really didn't want to ease _all_ her fears.

If Jordan wouldn't leave just to be with me—I didn't care—I'd scare her into coming with me.

But . . . I couldn't do that either.

"I'm not involved in all that, which you know. All of which means I don't have all the answers. But I do know that if I'm told to leave, there's a reason, and I want you with me...just in case. Please…we'll get the days excused." I wrapped my arms around her. "God forbid something—"

"I just…I just won't leave the hospital. It's only for a weekend. We'll text…I'll be safe…I'll put myself on-call." She nodded.

"No." I squeezed her tight. "Just—"

"Cullen…I've worked too hard to get this far! I knew what I was signing up for—the long hours, all the studying. I didn't sign up for a boyfriend, nor did I plan on falling for you, but . . . No, maybe _you _can take the weekend off, but_ I_ can't—"

"You can. You just won't." I let go of her; I was fucking pissed. "In my world, this is a test of loyalty…As my woman, if you won't go…come and be with me, you must just not give a fuck!"

"In your world?" she asked, her tone sarcastic. "Cullen, there's only one world, and it's just a weekend apart. Why are you being like this?"

I laughed, but I couldn't look at her. "If you _love_ me, truly love me—"

"Don't do that." She had tears in her eyes. "Don't give me an ultimatum because of something that has nothing to do with me! You can't even tell me the whole truth!"

"Lower your fuckin' voice!" I spat.

Jordan stepped away from me. "Who are you?"

I ignored that question, staring down as I thought out my next words. "I would tell you everything if I could. I've…already shared everything with you that I could. But I'm frightened…because…I don't know what's going to happen, and I'll be so worried about you…" I gritted my teeth, trying to let go of my anger.

"Look, times like these, they were the scariest growing up. They're scary because we're left in the dark. We have no idea what's happening, and this shit is just as…frightening now." I shrugged. "And I wish I could just stay…I wanna stay put so badly, no matter what, so that I know you're safe, so that I'm informed, so that I can be here for my brother . . ."

I shook my head. "Jordan, I love you…and no matter where, I wanna weather the storm _with_ you. I can't change my family or who I am, or certain circumstances, but we_ can_ stay together—I _can_ protect you…since just you _being with me..._us being involved, you being my girlfriend, even if you don't know a thing, puts you at risk, too…slight risk." I didn't know what else to say. "It's small, but it's still a risk...one I don't wanna take, which is why I need us to stay together. I'm sorry."

"I do love you." She wrapped her arms around me. "But if you're in danger, even slight danger, I want you to go…I'll be here. I'll stay right here—"

I groaned, pushing her away to scream into my palms. "Why are you making this so fucking difficult?" I reached out to grasp her jaw, make her look at me. "You gotta be thrown in a trunk to make it seem real, what?"

Jordan pushed my hand, and I let go. "You're just trying to scare me…" She backed farther away.

I snorted. "Right…I know your first love—over me—is medicine. I've accepted that."

"That's…that's not true."

I spoke over her. "I know how dedicated you are. But if this is some kind of test...You telling me to go but you _really_ want me to stay—"

She grabbed my hand. "I_ want_ you to go. You gave your brother your word—you have a responsibility to your family, and I understand. I wouldn't want you choosing me over them." Tears filled her eyes.

"Jordan, for fuck's sake—" I pulled her into my arms, hugging her tight.

"Let go," she whispered, but I refused. I didn't want to let her go. "You're hurting me—"

My body stiffened, and I turned to kick the wall.

"You're scaring me, too."

I laughed, pushing my hair back. "Scaring you?" I cocked a brow. "I didn't think you had any fears."

"I'm…petrified to run…even with you, because…I don't wanna run forever," she whispered.

"What the fuck are you saying?" My stomach tied in knots. "Down the line, we get married, you no longer have a fucking choice! You'll either go where I go, or where I tell you!" I was losing my temper, too, at this point. "Innocent people get hurt all the time. Some shit pops off, we need to go on the lam—"

"Pops off? Lam? Cullen, I don't even know what you mean." She shook her head, going toward the exit. "Who are you right now? You're really—"

"Scaring you. I know," I laughed but nothing was funny. "There's no escaping this…" I widened my arms, and now I was weepy. I gently pulled her away from the door. "Baby…I love you enough to let you go, but I don't want to. Especially not because of this. It's_ just_ a weekend vacation...a two day trip, and there's no danger."

I pushed her hair behind her ear, gazing into her eyes. "Jordan, we'll be back by Monday." I was scared she'd break up with me; I was feeling desperate now. "We don't even have to do our residencies here in New York. We can get away. We can go wherever to ensure this doesn't happen again—" I stopped talking.

If we did that, I'd essentially be leaving my family. Maybe I didn't mind before, but now that my head's out of my ass, I wanted to stay put—do my residency in New York, where Jordan also received an offer—and be where I'm needed most.

But saying that…that's how much I didn't want to lose her.

"This…this is all too much," she whispered. "I-I have to get back." She gestured to the door.

"Are you kidding me?" I swore I was losing my mind, and my heart was breaking.

Even if she didn't fully understand the possible threat—if she loved me, she'd want to be with me, no matter what—whether it'd be us taking a small trip someplace safer, or if we had to _brave_ some shit together.

We'd be together . . . if she loved me.

Other women I know would risk life and limb just to be by their man's side—through hell or high water.

The men I know would never let their women do that if there was a possibility of any-damn-thing, though.

They'd get their woman somewhere safe, put their foot down.

But those women would still put up a fight.

They'd at least shed a fucking tear.

And Jordan won't even put shit off to the side for one weekend . . . to spend two days with me.

"It's too much." She repeated herself. "Go be with your family. Take the weekend. I hope you have fun," she said. "Text me, and when you come back, come find me."

As angry as I was, I put my hand out. "Gimme your phone."

She handed it to me and leaned over to peck my lips. "I'm sorry."

I ignored that. "This is my brother's emergency number." I placed it in her phone book. "You get spooked, something's not right…don't call me. You call him because I won't be here."

"Okay." She grabbed my hand again.

I wanted to let it go. I wanted to tell her to go kick rocks because…

Shouldn't her love for me conquer all?

"Couples spend weekends apart all the time," she said, giving me a hint of a smile.

"I really thought—" I was disappointed.

"My dinner break is over." She looked at her watch.

"You're so cold and…clinical sometimes—"

"And you're not?" she asked. "In regards to this weekend…I'm just thinking logically. You say our lives aren't in danger…"

"Your dinner break is over," I said because I had nothing else to say.

"Don't be an ass—"

I shrugged, at a total fucking loss. "I'll text you."

"Can you kiss me?" she asked. "Can you promise me you'll be back Monday?"

I nodded, closing the distance between us. "I love you." Gently, I nipped her lips and deepened the kiss, fucking kissing her like I'd never see her again. I was on edge, and I was torn—between wanting to stay in New York and have Sonny's back and wanting to hit the fucking road already. "Yeah, stay here at the hospital, so my mind's not all crazy." It'd be safer for her here than any other place. "My brother's almost 100% positive that us leaving is an extreme precaution. He's not worried."

"Good." She gazed up into my eyes. "I love you…and don't forget that."

"I'll—" I wanted to keep talking because I didn't want her to go. It was like, while I knew what was best, I wanted to stay longer in hopes she'd change her mind.

"I'll text you." I turned for the stairs.

_**/=/=/=/**_

_**B**_y the time I got back to my room, Vito was already parked at the curb waiting for me.

It took me five minutes at best to pack a bunch of shit and leave the building.

"What's up?" I asked, placing my bag in the backseat.

"Nothing," he said.

I hummed, getting in the passenger side. "Thanks for the lift."

"No problem." He drove away. "You watch my girl this weekend." Vito gave me a fleeting glance.

I smiled; he was talking about Kylie. "Of course."

"Good." He nodded. "Us old timers stick together like you youths…I'll be with your grandfather Saturday, keeping a watchful eye. At our age, what have we got to lose?" he laughed.

I shrugged, staring out to the scenery passing us by.

And I was scared shitless of losing Jordan.

Realizing she never gave me a straight answer to that question…

_If I decided to drop out of med school, get involved in the family business, would you still be with me?_

It had me feeling even worse, although I don't plan on doing that.

I'll always be just a little bit involved in my family's business.

All I could hope for is that Jordan grows to accept that, wants to ride along with me.

Because I didn't want to let her go.

I will if I have to.

But I don't want to.

When we arrived at my brother's, I said goodbye to Vito and paused before ringing Sonny's bell.

After taking several calming breaths, I was ready—okay.

Essentially, I had a job to do this weekend, and I couldn't disappoint. I had to put my personal problems away.

"Hey…" Kylie pulled me inside to hug me tightly.

"You okay?" I looked around for Sonny.

"No…I hate not feeling safe." She had no idea how much I agreed with her. "But I know I am safe because Sonny's here, Gio's here," she sighed. "Now…you're here, but I miss Daddy…'cause—"

"Shhh." I squeezed her tighter. "You need to relax. Nothing's wrong."

"That's not what Aro said. Aro brought Gio a bag of clothes, said Gio had to leave with us. If _he_ says—"

"It's a precaution because they're all drama queens." I tried to sound lighthearted, and I _was_ sort of speaking the truth. They get totally paranoid. They may not know how bad shit will get.

However, any little thing, and they're ready to hide us ASAP—their families—but I understood it.

From what I do know, I don't think _any_ of us are in danger.

It seems like everyone's overreacting about a lot of things—myself included.

"That's what I keep telling her." Peto left the kitchen with a beer. "It's one weekend, and we're not legit hiding out." He rolled his eyes.

"I'm being silly…" Kylie didn't sound as emotional.

"We're gonna have an awesome time. Where do you wanna go?" I looked down to see that little dude wagging his tail at me. "Do we have to take Noah?"

"He has an ark, I mean, a crate…we call it his ark." Kylie relaxed, smiling down at him. "Isn't he awesome?"

I nodded. "Yeah…Where's Sonny?"

She giggled, pointing up. "They're…going at it like beasts, like they'll never see each other again...been up there for a while."

I smiled. "Right…You should figure out where you wanna go." I walked into the living room to put my bag down, and I was shocked to see the place looking clean. "Did you clean?"

Kylie laughed. "Dude, this isn't my house. Maggie did—" She gasped. "Stay right here. Don't move." She ran away from me.

I looked to Peto. "What's up?"

He shook his head, settling down on the couch, and he really is a spitting image of his father.

"What's…AJ up to?" I asked.

"He's gonna spend the weekend with Katie and the baby," he whispered. "I don't talk about it because…everyone around here hates my sister now." He shrugged.

"But if you didn't love _my_ sister, you'd be with them…in a heartbeat?" I asked.

He nodded, solemnly. "There's no way…After all the time we've spent apart? Katie's been living in the burbs these past few months…She's settled and I know they'll be fine. My father gave me this earlier." He lifted his shirt to reveal a gun tucked in his waist. "He dropped off a bag of clothes, too; meanwhile, I had a choice: stay with Kylie or go stay with Katie. It's just…like mass hysteria, you know? Wise guys get nervous and hide their families…"

I raised a brow. "You were too little, but…my God. They took a lot of huge hits when _I_ was a kid, which is why…they overreact now. I get it."

"Look!" Kylie jumped back into the room. "This one is yours—for you since they have copies."

It was a sonogram picture of a teeny baby…Baby Cullen. "I can keep this?"

Kylie sighed. "We're gonna have a baby soon."

"Yeah." I honestly thought the picture was adorable, awesome.

She squealed. "I can't wait to babysit."

"You? Babysitting?" I threw my head back to laugh. "We don't even leave you alone yet."

"Shut up." She flicked my ear. "Are you hungry? There's pizza." Kylie offered.

"Yeah, heat me up a slice." I left the couch. "I'll be in Sonny's office." That's where he has a fully-stocked bar.

It's the only adult room in, like, a kiddie funhouse.

I poured myself a drink and then I looked through all the drawers.

And I wasn't apologetic.

Nor was I looking to steal from him.

I sipped my Jack and looked for coke since I know Sonny's gotta be stressed out.

And my father used to hide his coke in his office…

But I didn't find anything, so I racked up the balls on the pool table. "Peto!" I shouted, wondering if he wanted to play.

"His name is Gio." Kylie came in with the pizza. "And you can't eat in here. Sonny says."

"'Sup?" Peto came into the room. "Oh…you can't eat in here."

I chuckled, leaving the room with my whiskey and pizza.

They followed me, and Noah followed them.

If I would have stopped short, Kylie would have bumped into my back.

It was cute. "Can I eat in here?" Since the living room is party city, I figured I could.

"Of course!" Kylie nodded, plopping down next to me; our thighs were touching, and she rested her head on my shoulder. "I missed my Dame-y Bear."

My brows rose as I started eating.

"Can we go down to the shore house?" Kylie asked.

I shook my head.

"Yeah…Dad said I could spend the summer there, but…and he doesn't tell me anything…" And she rambled on and fucking on until her random-ass gasped and turned to Peto. "We should go skinny-dipping…since it's dark!"

I disagreed. "I think…we should all stay inside because, besides Peto, _none_ of us wanna see you naked." I pursed my lips, thinking there'd be nothing worse.

My sister's face fell. "Yeah…I wouldn't wanna see you naked either."

"Exactly," I said.

"Can we get some weed to take with us?" she asked.

I quirked a brow, shrugging. "I wouldn't mind…if we had some bud."

"I'll ask Sonny." She looked pleased, but I bet he turns her down.

"Try to think of a place you wanna go—busy yourself with that. Please, 'cause we'll be leaving real early," I said.

"I'll split the driving with you…My dad's supposed to come back with a van soon," Peto explained. "He was pissed before...had to talk to Sonny." He glanced at the ceiling.

"Cool." I finished my slice and checked my cell phone.

I had no new texts.

"When…I mean, is Jordan coming with us?" Kylie asked.

I shook my head, hoping she didn't want me to elaborate.

"I'm sorry." She squeezed my hand.

I sighed, leaving the couch with my plate.

"Oh my God!" There was a scream, and I'm pretty sure it was Maggie since it came from upstairs.

Kylie stared at the ceiling. "They're not done yet, but…" She turned to me, eyes wide. "They're so not as bad as Mom and Dad these days. They got Sonny and Maggie beat! That's why I'm either here or at Gio's…It's so gross." She shuddered. "They have no shame…none whatsoever. Mom and Dad are disgusting...perverts."

"They'll probably be even worse when you move out," I laughed.

"At least your parents keep it in the bedroom." Peto grimaced.

"Dude!" Kylie squeezed my arm. "I haven't been able to look Uncle Aro in the eyes…for days."

Peto cracked up. "Me neither. It's so awkward, and my dad is all, 'I like to fuck my wife. What?'" He imitated his father.

I was curious. "What were they doing?"

"They were like…on the living room floor…like beastly fucking." Peto shivered. "Like you heard that shit." He punched the air, rubbing up his forearm. "He was hittin' Lisa off mad hard."

"Damn," I commented.

Then Kylie whined in place. "I wish I had more privacy…blah."

"Don't you have a room here?" I thought they should go fuck or something, get out of my face. I'd be content to smoke like a chimney in the backyard while Noah kept me company.

"Sonny—"

"It's Peto." I shrugged. "Just be quiet—nobody cares. I'll be outside."

This time, nobody followed me but Noah…because I still had my plate.

When I went outside, the pool light was on, and the water looked fucking amazing…

I ran back in to get changed into my bathing suit.

"But you can go swimming?" Kylie met me outside the downstairs' bathroom.

"Youse can go swimming, too. Just…wear a fucking bathing suit." I felt like I was teen again, my sister annoying me. "Figure out where we're going!"

"Geez…" She walked away from me.

I rolled my eyes and reentered the backyard to wince.

I forgot the dog outside before.

When I dove off the diving board, Noah barked at me, although I have no idea why. Then, because I had all this energy, I started to do laps back and forth.

And I kept going until I felt the burn in my thighs, calves, and forearms. I was huffing and puffing, my breathing erratic.

"Dame!"

I'd just hit the side of the pool to turn around. "Yeah?" I tried to catch my breath and wipe my eyes.

"How you doin'?" It was Aro.

"Good…" I was panting at the deep end and still treading water.

"How many laps did'ju do?"

"I dunno…twenty-two?" I had no idea.

"Damn." He hissed, crouching down. I thought pulling him into the pool would be hilarious...but I didn't do it. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," I said. "You brought the van?"

"Yeah…I'm also here to relay a message. I tried calling your brother but…" Aro seemed frustrated, staring at his watch. "Sonny's just like your pops, man. Got me waitin' and shit, like my time ain't important."

"You could tell me, and I'll tell him." I smiled.

"No…" He smirked at me.

"Yo!" Sonny came outside in his boxers.

"'Sup?" Aro went to meet him, widening his arms. "Took you long enough."

"My bad. You should'a knocked or some shit."

"I heard youse from the driveway," Aro laughed. "Like I'mma interrupt that shit?"

Sonny laughed, giving Aro a fist pound as he looked around him to stare at me. "Yo, my dude. I didn't even see you."

I waved, about to leave the pool.

But then Sonny ran in my direction before jumping up and doing a cannonball. His big ass made waves, fucking Aro got soaked…

"You motherfucker!" Aro shouted.

I was trying my hardest not to laugh.

"You gotta wet me?" he asked my brother.

"It's fucking water!" Sonny made to leave the pool as fast as he'd gotten in. "That felt awesome." He blew out a breath, trying to hold his boxers on. "What are you and my father, Gremlins?" He jerked his head, indicating I get out, too.

"Just dry off so I can talk to you already." Aro picked up a towel and chucked it at my brother. "The gas tank is full, no worries there…and I have a message from Carlisle."

"Right…" Sonny wrapped the towel around his waist. "We'll be in my office," he told me.

I'd gotten out of the pool for nothing—lighting a cigarette when they went inside.

The stars were out since the sky was so clear. The moon was like that thumbnail thing, and the air was still hot, which felt awesome on my wet body.

A fucking lounge chair never felt so good.

And I couldn't even remember the last time I even chilled by a pool, always being so busy with school…

It was amazing to just lie there and think of nothing.

Maybe it was because I'd overexerted myself, but I was calm.

Twenty quiet minutes must have passed by.

"Yo…" Sonny came back out with beers.

"Thanks." I took one to guzzle the cold liquid down; I couldn't believe how thirsty I was.

"Jordan didn't—"

"She's has your emergency number, and I'm trying not to think about it." I shrugged.

He hit my leg. "It's all good, bro. I didn't…I know there are things I can't tell you," he whispered. "But I don't want you worried either."

I sat up to face him and light another smoke.

"Carlisle heard from Mike…he's interested in putting shit to bed. Both New Jersey and Philly are at a standstill. I'd go so far to say youse don't gotta go away this weekend, but just go anyway." He pushed his hair back. "Everything's good." He gave me a very reassuring smile.

I nodded. "That's-that's awesome. I'm glad…I mean, I overreacted when Jordan refused, when she wouldn't...I was disappointed even if I had the feeling she wouldn't come."

Sonny gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Well…you said she's dedicated, and you've said she's interested in taking things slow—casual." He shrugged. "And if there was legit beef, I would have told you, so you could'a just kidnapped her." He chuckled.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're welcome."

"Did Kylie figure out where we're going?" I asked.

"Since…I think youse'll be able to come back Sunday, I suggested the Hamptons."

I laughed. "That's not far away at all, and we're not…Hamptons people." Maybe our family has money. We're wealthy by conventional standards, but we don't act like it. We don't look like it either.

"Exactly." He nodded. "I gave her a credit card and a phone—told her to get online and search for a resort."

"And I'll be just a couple of hours away just in case," I said. "And…I've heard from people at school that the Hamptons is fucking crowded at this time…We'll be hiding in plain sight."

"Glad you get it." He hit my beer with his. "Fuck…everything goes well Saturday, I'll meet you guys out there."

"Sounds like a plan." Then I could leave Kylie and Maggie with him and head back to Jordan just as fast. "It's a really good plan . . . I saw the ultrasound picture."

His face lit up. "Isn't it amazing?"

"Very amazing," I admitted. "You're going to be a fucking dad." It was still weird and cool. Weird, because I still think of us as kids, for some reason. And cool, because Sonny's wanted this for a while…to settle down, find love, and have a load of kids.

All his dreams were coming true, and I wished him nothing but the best.

"I hope we have a girl," he laughed.

I scrunched my nose. "I would think you'd want a boy."

"Nah..." He settled back in the chair. "I always hoped to be successful, and to spend my life surrounded by beautiful women."

I grinned. "Nice."

"But…whatever we have…" he trailed off. "I'll be cool with whatever."

I checked my phone again. Nothing.

"Santino...?" Maggie poked her head out of the door.

I waved.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, waving back.

"You're not intruding on anything," Sonny told her, extending his hand.

She came outside, yawning big as she walked, and she didn't look any different—maybe prettier? She had a glow, although she seemed exhausted? "I can't keep my eyes open," she said through another yawn.

"Then go to sleep, baby. I'll be up soon."

I lay back in the chair to see the sky, wanting to give him privacy while he kissed her goodnight.

"We're going to set our alarms for four…" Maggie trailed off.

"Sounds good." Sonny landed a loud smooch on her stomach while she giggled. "I'll be up soon, baby…I'm not going anywhere tonight."

"Okay." She grabbed Noah and went back inside.

"You know…" I started. "I'm fine here. I'll catch a nap on the couch…"

"Nah." He left his chair. "Let's chill. You want another beer?"

I nodded. "Yeah…sure."

When he left the yard, I smiled, happy that we might possibly get back to being as close as we used to be. Maybe he did get married. Maybe he'll have a softball team of kids, but…he's still my brother and that won't change.

And I wanted to call Jordan so badly.

One, to let her know I won't be far.

Two, tell her she could go back to the dorms.

Three, just to say, "I love you" because I missed her already.

"Here." He handed me a beer.

"Dude…go be with Maggie. Have youse ever been far apart? She's gonna be a fucking wreck."

"But…" His face fell. "I know. I just…you're here. We _never_ chill…She knows, understands." Sonny pursed his lips. "I'mma miss her like hell, too." He chuckled albeit sadly.

"Your pool's fucking awesome. I'll probably be back next Sunday." I smiled, guzzling the Heineken. "Go chill with your wife, man." I knew that was where he truly wanted to be, although he did seem torn.

"Bet," he said. "I'd like that. Next Sunday, we could get the grill goin', too. You want me to leave this out here?" He held up the longneck he brought out for himself.

I grabbed it. "Might as well. I'm not setting an alarm…I'm used to waking up at four, but I probably won't. You wake me up."

He laughed. "You got it."

When he left, I finally had the chance to call Jordan. I told her those three important things. She was relieved, sounded just fine, and I realized that she doesn't know…She's heard me talk about past threats, things that have happened, but she has no idea how dangerous it can be.

And I had a load of questions for her.

However, they'd have to wait for another day…another day in the future, hopefully our future.

She was right. It _was_ too much. Me talking marriage and about our residencies out of nowhere.

Me basing how much she loves me by her willingness to let me go.

"I'm so glad everything's cool," she whispered.

"Me too…We're okay?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "I already signed up for call tonight…We're not busy. I'm gonna try to get a nap."

"You just jinxed yourself," I laughed.

She groaned. "I did…"

"Try to get some rest."

"Love you," she singsonged.

"I love you, too." I ended the call, feeling even better.

_**/=/=/=/**_

_**T**_he next morning, it was still kind of dark when Sonny woke me, and I didn't want to get up.

His couch smelled like Fritos for some reason, but it was crazy comfortable.

"I just wanna give this to you now…You got everything you might need in here." Sonny came at me with a duffle bag.

I was wiping sleep from my eyes, and then I put my glasses on. "What?"

"I made a pot of coffee—"

"How are you so awake right now?" I asked, just wanting to make sure he's not coked-up. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A couple hours." He placed his hand on his chest. "Bro, I appreciate the concern." He knew. "But I'm clean. I've been clean…After youse leave, I'll head to Eclipse—probably sleep there." He shrugged.

"Okay." I grabbed the blanket. "I know girls take a while…but I don't. Wake me up when it's ten minutes to send off."

Sonny pulled the comforter away from me. "Wake up. Go to the basement, lift some weights, take a shower, have some coffee… They been packed since last night, and Maggie's making breakfast." He sounded all wired like Dad. "Just start movin'."

"I'm up." I felt like I was fifteen again, and Dad was trying to wake me for school. Sitting up with a sigh, I decided to peek into the duffle. "Whoa…like I'm meeting a Colombian to make a buy?" There were literally stacks of cash, two guns and two silencers, and a lot of ammunition. "I…I don't need this much shit."

"You never know…I'd rather you be ready for anything. And I loaded all the numbers I'm using this weekend in this phone." He handed me one of those throwaway cells. "Turn off your cell when you get to the resort. I'll be the only one to call you…and if Maggie starts crying…make her look at this." It was another ultrasound picture.

I just nodded and bit my tongue, swallowing all my sarcasm. "We're a bunch of misfits going to chill in some ritzy Hamptons resort…I don't think we'll run into any trouble. Rich folk'll be more scared of us," I laughed.

"Just humor me."

"Yeah…How are you going to be? Going to this sit-down alone?" I asked.

"I'll be fine." He sipped his coffee. "I just gotta keep my eye on Luke; meanwhile, I'm truly there on his behalf."

"Why?" I yawned again.

"Last night, while I was trying to sleep, a story that Caius once told me popped into my head. It was about how Luke came to be who he is. Plus…when two enemies are sitting at a table, I mean, it might become heated." He stood from the couch. "Come on. Get up, do somethin'."

"Wait…"

"Carlisle's going to be there," he told me.

"That's reassuring." I left the sofa.

"You don't really know Carlisle, but you should _get_ to know him. He's a good guy." He shrugged. "Plus…my crew's gonna be everywhere. I got nothing to worry about."

"All right." But now I was more nervous for Sonny than anything else.

We had breakfast.

We were set to go twenty minutes later.

"Hello, baby." I kissed the loaded nine I had because I really missed having one, and then I left the bathroom . . .

"I'm keeping this," I informed Sonny as I placed it at my waist, and I actually felt whole.

"Sure." He didn't argue with me. "Take your buddy out to the van." He handed me Noah's Ark…the teeny dog in the blue hamster cage thing. "Don't forget. You'll have to walk him. Maggie'll insist she do it, but she obviously can't walk him by herself. You might as well do it."

I balked at the idea. "Can't we keep him in the bathtub?"

Sonny laughed. "Delegate. Make Peto do it."

I raised a brow. "Nice."

"And please…don't be an asshole to my wife." He actually cringed. "She's gonna be emotional, all sad and shit. She's getting better with understanding and doling out sarcasm, but…and please don't talk about birth defects."

I couldn't help myself and cracked up. "What do you think I am? A monster?"

"Just think before you open your mouth. You don't always do that…and talk to her, don't ignore her." He was serious.

"Look," I widened my arms, "I actually talk to Maggie all the time. I just don't do it in front of you…because...you're a fucking nut—"

He sucked his teeth. "I'm a nut?"

"Hey, when it comes to our broads, man…? I'm a nut, too." I didn't know what else to say.

"Word," he muttered, going out the front door.

I followed after, seeing Peto in the passenger seat, and Maggie was already crying…

Fucking great, I thought, as I entered the van.

"You might even see me as soon as tomorrow night." Sonny was being attentive. "You have no reason to be scared—neither one of youse." Now he spoke to Kylie, too.

"Yeah…I'm here," I said.

And I thought it'd ease their minds, but Maggie just sobbed harder.

"Tough crowd," I commented, turning to place Noah onto Peto's lap.

"Can I put him with our bags?" he asked.

I shrugged as I fastened my seatbelt.

"We'll take him," Kylie said, grabbing for the dog cage. "See? I bet Noah hates this thing…wants his mommy." My sister took the puppy out to give him to Maggie.

"Cuddle with Noah," Sonny whispered, and it was hard not to hear their conversation. "Take a nap, baby." I saw him kiss her temple while I adjusted the rearview, and I truly felt for them. My brother looked miserable—fine by circumstance, upset to be away from his wife; I understood. "I'm not letting youse leave until you stop crying." He rested his chin on her head.

I turned around to face them all. "It's two days…It's not supposed to rain this weekend. We'll be at the beach—"

Kylie gasped. "We don't have beach chairs or—"

Sonny chuckled. "You're going to a beachfront resort. They better fucking have chairs for how much it costs."

I nodded. "He's right. They'll have anything we'd need…and Sonny will more than likely be joining us late tomorrow night. So, you see?" I didn't know if my words would make anyone feel better. "We're not in danger; we're just going away for the weekend. And…" I racked my brain. "Once Sonny gets there, the real party will begin."

Sonny winked at me. "We'll have a blast—stay 'til Monday or Tuesday. Did…um, I know it'll be late, truly early Sunday morning when I could head out, but did you want me to scoop Jordan? Youse'll have Sunday to spend at the beach—"

"No." I cleared my throat. "She…just no." With knowing my girl, I know that heading to Brooklyn for a meal is just fine. But to her, there's nothing she likes to do more than study, read, be at the hospital.

Sure, she _could_ come Sunday, and I'd be over the moon…

However, since the danger would be contained, and she'd be seeing me on Monday, there's no way she'd take the day off.

"You positive about that?" Sonny raised a brow. "It's just a fucking day—"

"Please…at least ask her, Dame," Kylie pleaded. "If she doesn't…I know you'll leave as soon as Sonny gets there—"

"I—"

"You know I'm right!" She cut me off. "If, just by some miracle she says yes, we'll _all_ get to have a great time. I'd be with both you guys…" And now Kylie was in tears.

"Babe…" Peto reached to place his hand on her knee. Then he looked to Sonny. "Sorry."

"I'd be more inclined to slap ya around if you _didn't_ console my sister. You feel me?" Sonny's tone was menacing, but amusement burned bright in his eyes. I'm sure he dug the amount of fear, or respect, Peto always shows him, but Sonny looked a little annoyed, too.

Peto placed his hand on his chest. "I just don't…want to be disrespectful."

"Hello! _I'm_ upset!" Kylie snapped.

"Oh!" I put my palms out. "Kylie's upset. Let's stop the world…Time out." I stiffened in place, in a pose, like I'd stopped time, and then I laughed out loud.

"Ass." She flicked my ear.

Maggie giggled through her tears.

"You're all going to be fine." Sonny stared at his wife but spoke to everyone. "I'll call you later—"

Maggie attacked his mouth.

I smiled while I turned away to give them privacy. When she moaned, I raised a brow. "You do whatever it takes to stay safe." I agreed with her words. "Whatever it takes…and I love you—" More slurpy kissing noises followed.

"Christ." Sonny spat.

"Ugh…get off—" Kylie scoffed.

I turned to see that Sonny had gone in for the kill to…maul his wife. Maggie's back was leaning onto Kylie, and my brother's body was halfway into the backseat. They were squashing Noah and my sister.

And they weren't stopping.

"You guys are gross." Kylie grimaced, her cheek pressed to the window.

They ignored her, and when I saw Maggie's leg hitch over my brother's hip, I cleared my throat. "Yo…" They needed to chill the fuck out. More important than that, we needed to just go already. "Be easy."

Sonny was panting when he stood upright. "Damn…"

"I worked up a sweat just watching…" Kylie whispered. "And take your damn dog!" She pushed Noah into Maggie. "And don't cry! We'll be in Long Island, not Siberia—"

"Hey!" Sonny shouted, but Maggie was fine—wore a smirk as she stared at my sister.

"Relax." I turned on the radio.

"Stop hatin'…You'll be able to screw Gio how many times once we get there?" Maggie asked.

"I'm not hating—"

"You are."

"No—"

"Yes!"

"Knock it off!" I hollered, whipping around to hit Peto's headrest, swearing I was about to lose my shit. "Jesus…_fucking_ Christ!" I blew out a calming breath.

"Dude…" Kylie had wide eyes and turned to Sonny. "That's scary…He's Dad…Look!" She pointed to me.

Sonny started cracking up and kissed his wife again. "I love you." He pulled away to slide the door closed. "Call when youse get there."

"Definitely."

"Oh, gimme a bone." Sonny reached through Peto's window.

I handed him a cigarette. "You better be heading out there tomorrow," I said.

"I'm going to do everything I can...I'm actually glad, looking forward to being there. I'm happy I'll get to spend some time with you guys—regardless of _how_ we got there." He took the smoke from me and stepped back. "But, go…head out. I love you guys!"

A chorus of "I love you, too," sounded from the back.

And we're macho pricks so we just exchanged head nods.

Once I finally pulled out of the driveway, it was already seven-fucking-thirty. I'd be hitting morning rush hour, and I knew that shit was going to suck.

Without traffic, it'd take us three hours to get to the ass-end of Long Island, and I was frustrated by the thought alone . . . That it could easily take us twice that long because we'd gotten a late start.

And as soon as I merged onto the Belt Parkway . . .

We were in standstill traffic.

And the . . . _crawl_ to Montauk began.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**T**_he Southern State Parkway wasn't that bad. At least we'd started to really move, but it'd taken us an hour and a half just to reach it, which was total bullshit. 1010 WINS warned travelers . . . however, I couldn't detour without having to backtrack and waste time.

"How long until we get there?" Kylie placed her chin on my shoulder to sniff me. "You smell nice."

I sighed, slowing down when some dick-ass in front of me hit his brakes. "What are you stopping for?!" I asked him.

"Damion…?"

"Like…another two hours, _if _traffic keeps moving." I adjusted my glasses and then pulled the visor down, thinking I should have worn my contacts, so I could have worn my shades.

"Oh, that's plenty of time. We can't check in until three anyway—"

"What?" I snapped at my sister. "Why didn't you say something? We could have—"

"I told Santino," Maggie interrupted. "He said you'd take care of it…and we used a fake credit card…well, it's not fake, but it doesn't belong to any of us, or a real person—"

"I get it." I understood what she was saying.

"…It'll work, but anyway. It was just for the reservation. We _should_ pay with cash when we get there." Maggie finished.

I nodded, staring at the nearest exit. "We have time…I'm stopping for coffee."

"I could _so_ go for a iced caramel latte," Kylie said.

There wasn't a Dunkin' Donuts like my sister had hoped, but she got something similar to what she wanted at Starbucks.

I was happy as I sipped my double espresso and smoked a cigarette.

Jordan had sent me a few texts, and they were all good. One said that she missed me, another said that she loved me, and the third said…she wished she'd come with us. She didn't elaborate on that last one—just said that she wished she'd left _with_ me.

I called her right away.

But she didn't pick up.

No sooner than ending the call to call her _right_ back, she sent another text.

_W/ a patient—J _

That's when I became _im_patient, waiting for her to ring me when she was free.

"Blah…" I wiggled in place, in frustration, and yet I was sort of giddy.

"Everything okay?" Maggie asked.

I nodded, smiling wide. "I think…yeah, I'm good. How are you?"

"Tired." She leaned back against the van.

"Well…you can sleep the rest of the way and when we get there. You can do whatever you want." I flicked my smoke across the lot, peeping my sister and Peto walking Noah close by.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." I turned back to her.

"Why—why did you suggest I have an abortion?" She rubbed her abdomen.

I wanted to groan, wince—because her words felt like they kicked me in the nuts. "I'm sorry—"

"I know you _didn't_ mean it, and you know I'd _never_ do that," she whispered. "So…why say it?"

I scratched my forehead with my thumb, thinking about it. "I was being a dick…an asshole." I sipped my coffee. "Plus, you're young, _so_ young, Maggie. If it was a mistake—a slip. I mean, you and Sonny have loads of time to have kids. You're supposed to start college soon—"

"I still plan to…The baby isn't due until Christmastime, when I'll be on break."

"That's great," I said. "But…it took years for my mother to finish college. She'd start, get knocked up, or something would happen…which would make her put it on hold. I also knew that everyone would be putting the screws to you…I even knew that they_ were_ already pressuring you into having a kid . . . If there was a chance_ you_ didn't want the baby." I fumbled through my thoughts. "It was a fucked-up thing to say—the way I chose to word it was wrong. But—"

"You were trying to look out for me." She guzzled her juice down.

I nodded; glad that while Maggie was young in age, she really was mature.

Maggie placed her hand over her mouth, and her body lurched forward with a small jerk.

I jumped back, afraid she was going to vomit. "You okay?"

"I shouldn't have…drunk it so fast." She blew out a breath. "I'm all right. Um…I prayed for the baby, to get pregnant." And I knew she'd do anything to make my brother happy, including that. "I did it for me, though…for us. Because all I want to do is move forward, settle and…just be with Santino…start a family." She sounded wistful. "I'm still thinking about nursing." She changed the subject slightly, which was appreciated.

"That's cool…_No_ convent will take you now."

She laughed and her face blazed red. "No, they won't, but even so. Even if nursing, and university in general, don't work out . . . I don't think I'll be upset. I chose this—made the decision."

"But, sometimes, and I'm not saying this to place doubt in your mind—because I wish you and my brother so much happiness—but we regret the hasty choices we've made," I tilted my head to the side "…in the future." I shrugged.

"You brought up Bella . . . and speaking of her, and knowing_ from_ speaking _to_ her, I know that your mom is happy. She has no regrets, even if her life wasn't as glamorous as it might have seemed," she whispered. "She has her man, her kids—all you guys are healthy and happy, or close to it—and she's surrounded by all this love…Your mother is blessed, and I know that she knows that."

I pursed my lips. "Right." Meanwhile, I was glad she said that.

"She counts her blessings every day, and so do I. We all choose our own destinies, you know? We make our own destiny—"

"Sonny tell you that?" I chuckled.

"Yes…but tomorrow isn't promised, so we have to make the best of today. We have to strive forward and do the things we love. We have to cherish what we have because we never know when it'll be torn away from us." She waved at her face to stop her tears.

"Relax." I handed her a napkin. "You're right. You're absolutely correct." And I laughed, since she was 100% on the fucking money.

"I know there's nothing to worry about, but it hurts to be away from him," she spoke of Sonny. "It hurts me." And I wondered if Jordan was in pain. I knew I was. As much as I've tried not to think about her, my mind constantly flips back to her. Then I get this pit in my stomach, my chest feels tight.

"I know what you mean," I admitted in a whisper. "But, Maggie, you'll see him soon, and then—in a few months—you'll be having the baby. The future looks…so bright." I tried to reassure her; sounding so optimistic, I surprised myself.

"I, um—" Maggie looked around, wary. "I have no idea how I'm going to break this to Kylie, but we want you to be the godfather."

"Me?" I was shocked, pointed to myself. Last time around, before Katie gave birth to a brown child, AJ was supposed to be the godfather and Kylie the godmother.

She nodded. "No question. As for who the godmother will be, I'm torn. My sister . . . she recently made her confirmation, but I know she's too young…"

"A godparent has to be at least sixteen." I knew that much.

"I know, and traditionally the godparents should be a couple..."

"I'm flattered, but I don't know how much religious wisdom—" Truth be told, I cut myself off, because . . .

I was _very_ flattered at being chosen for such a task by my brother.

"Well, if something happens to us—"

"Nothing's going to happen." I chuckled nervously at the thought of raising their kid. "God forbid, but we both know, if something did—_which nothing's going to happen to you guys_—my mom would fight whoever to raise that child."

She smiled. "Yeah, I know that…_I'd_ want that, no matter who the godparents are, to be honest."

"Hell…you give my mom an inch…and I know you give her about a yard already," I laughed. "She'll take miles and miles…I bet she's at your house every day after the baby's born."

Maggie nodded. "I haven't spoken to Santino yet, but your mom and I talked about her staying with us for a little while. She wouldn't mind, and I know I'll be nervous—"

"I wouldn't push it." I was honest. "Sonny loves you, wants what's best. Sonny loves Mom, too, but no dude wants their mother staying with him and his wife. And if Mom's staying with you, you'll need to clear spaces for Dad and Kylie...You guys should just move in with Mom and Dad," I laughed. "It'd be simpler…As for that other thing, my brother is smart. He'll have paperwork in place…something happens, Mom and Dad will step up."

She sighed. "Yeah."

"Sonny used to help Mom all the time with Kylie. He'll be a great help—will know what he's doing."

"Your dog won't shit!" Kylie shouted.

"He will when has to." Maggie didn't sound like she cared.

"What are they, like, pebbles?" I asked, because I couldn't imagine how small that dog's turds must be.

"Like…little balls." Maggie shrugged. "Rocks."

I nodded.

"Are we ready?" Peto asked.

I held up a finger and ducked to the back of the van to call Jordan again. "Go use the bathrooms!" I shouted out to my counterparts, not wanting to stop again. We'd been on the road close to three hours, and we weren't even halfway there yet—should have been there by now.

"Hello?" Jordan laughed. "Who were you yelling at?"

"Hey, you…good morning." I smiled while I tried to think up ways to ask her again. "You really meant what you said? That last text?"

"I do…I miss you something awful." She sounded emotional. "You ever…like you know what's right, you know what you should do…Like, my head told me _you_ had to go and _I_ had to stay here, but my heart hurts…"

"Jordan…" My eyes pricked. "Everything's okay. Nothing's going to happen."

"It's selfish reasons." She scoffed, berating herself. "It's not about possible danger."

"I know," I sighed, and I wouldn't say "I told you so."

"I just want you safe, but more importantly…I want you with me." That was…exactly…what I hoped to hear. "I love you…already miss you like crazy."

"Dame! Come on!"

"Was that Kylie?" Jordan giggled, sounding better.

"Yes…baby, I love you, too. We'll talk soon." Once I switched phones, I'd be able to say a lot more, ask her to come out with Sonny…_if_ he comes out to meet us.

"Love you. Love you!" She rushed out.

"Love you, love you, too." I ended the call, feeling exhausted and then I pushed off the hatch as I laughed.

I felt…

There were no words to describe how I felt.

Elated didn't cover it.

"Whooo!" I shouted, hopping into the driver's seat. "We ready to rock or what?" I gave Peto a high five.

"Must have been some phone call." Kylie guffawed.

"You have no idea…" I started the car and then pulled out of the spot.

_**/=/=/=/=/=/**_

_**W**_hen we finally reached the resort, we were still too early for our reservations.

"Is there any way we could check in now?" I slid a fifty across the counter and toward the concierge.

He quirked a bitch brow down to the money, and I could guess that might be chump change in this neighborhood. "Sir, we have your reservation. Guests are trickling out now, since it's check-out time, but maid service hasn't gotten to your suite yet."

"Is there any way to _further_ them along?" I asked. "That—" I looked down to the money "—could at least put some pep in the maids' step."

"Guest restrooms are to the back of the lobby. You're welcome to the amenities, the beach—"

"Listen—" We needed to fly under the radar here, and I couldn't lose my temper.

"What's going on?" Maggie approached with tears in her eyes.

I slumped my shoulders, couldn't deal with her right now. "We can't check in until three—"

"What?" she shouted, started full-on sobbing. "I'm pregnant! I'm tired! I wanna take a fucking nap!"

"Yeah! You tell 'em sista!" Kylie had an attitude now.

"Relax." I rubbed Maggie's back; they were making a scene.

"It's your fault!" Maggie pushed me away from her.

I was taken aback.

"It's your fault this happened!"

"Mine?" I pointed to myself, and now we were drawing a crowd. "What are you some brat now? What the fuck?!"

"Sir…?"

"What?!" Maggie and I turned to bark at him.

He blanched back. "There's, uh, a suite-a suite similar to the one you reserved available now—"

"We'll take it," Maggie said, totally calm now...like she hadn't been pitching a fit seconds prior.

When it was all said and done, we all trailed to our room. It was actually a two-roomed suite joined together by a living room. There was a kitchenette and shit, too, and it had an ocean view.

We could leave either room and be on the fucking beach.

It was awesome, and I couldn't believe that there was hardly anyone sitting on the sand.

It was like we had our own little slice of beach.

"I wasn't really crying or mad at you," Maggie laughed and then she started crying again—for real. "This place is so beautiful…I wish Santino was here."

I slouched back on the couch, needing a nap. "Where's that…the picture? Go look at it."

She just sniffled and walked away from me.

"We have a problem." Kylie came toward me.

"What now?" I couldn't see it, not with this picturesque place we were at.

"There's a room with a king-sized bed and a room with two double-beds..." She shrugged. "I guess…Gio and I can take the king—"

"No." I snorted. "You and Maggie take the king."

"That's what I said." Maggie pointed to herself.

"Shut up." Kylie stuck her tongue out. "I knew it was a long shot, but…hey, I gave it a shot."

I chuckled. "Me and Peto can share the other—"

"Gio!" he spat. "God, I can't outrun that nickname for shit!"

I decided to ignore them while they decided what they'd do for the afternoon.

The three of them got ready to hang out on the beach while I called Sonny. He was happy everything worked out but sounded tired, like he'd just woken up. And I'll never know why he's so comfortable sleeping at Eclipse. My father used to be the same way—knock out there and scare Mom to death; her thinking something's happened.

Before he got off the phone—and this was placing a lot of faith in my brother—I gave him Jordan's email address. He already had her number, but I wanted to make it easier, whichever way was easier for him to contact her and ask her about coming out here tomorrow.

It was a pussy move, but I'd end up begging, and then losing my temper if she said no—again—after that text and what she'd said.

Sonny agreed, said it'd be no problem.

Speaking of my girl, I called her next just to say hello.

Once more, she was busy, but I knew firsthand how hectic our days are.

And then I ordered room service, just a bunch of shit we could have for lunch right here in the room or on the beach.

Briefly, I thought about checking out the gift shop for a book.

It'd been a dog's age since I'd read anything fiction—actually had time for fiction.

Honestly, like last night when I was just looking to the stars and right now with being here, I had time.

I wasn't worried about when or if I'd be able to get sleep.

I wasn't worried about a paper or any patients, or studying.

"Shit." I thought aloud.

"What's wrong?" Kylie had towels and a sheet in her arms.

"I should have brought my schoolbooks or something."

"I have a book," she said. "Two, in fact. I finished one on the ride here."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Oh!" Her eyes widened. "They're Mom's and they're so good!" She placed the stuff down and skipped into her room.

I followed but stood right outside. "What are they about?"

"Vampires!" She hopped out. "Check it…and give it a try. Don't say, 'this is gay.' Give it a shot."

I rolled my eyes. "This is romance crap…" I gazed at the title, _The Vampire Diaries: The Awakening_.

"Please, read it?" Now she was begging. "They're Italian, the two—"

"I don't care."

"You won't understand unless you read, and then we can talk about it. Please! You have to!" She was clawing at me, all frantic and shit. "I love it! You hafta read it!"

"Jesus…" I hissed, and knowing that I read pretty fast, I reluctantly said, "All right. Relax."

"Yes!" She punched the air. "You _won't _be disappointed!"

I shook my head and decided to get changed while I waited for the food.

In my bathing suit, I stared at the quiet nine, wondering how I could carry it around with me.

_Maybe Kylie has an extra purse I could wear while I tote that book around?_

My mother and her vampires…

After wrapping my heat in a towel, I went to sip from the bottle I jacked from Sonny's bar.

Then there was a knock, which I was wary about, even if I'd just ordered food to the room.

It was just the food, and then I shouted out to the kiddos—for them to come and eat—while I pushed the cart onto the deck.

"Oh, room service!" Kylie was absolutely giddy. "Did you get champagne?"

"No," I laughed. "We have—" I perused what I'd asked for "—bottled water for the fridge and an array of sodas, but knock yourself out."

"Can we order champagne later with dinner? Please?" She jutted her lower lip out.

"And beer," Peto said.

"Something chocolate," Maggie added.

I chuckled again, getting a kick out of them. "Look, later…I have all that cash…sure. Youse can all get something you want."

It was like they were my babies, which was hilarious.

"Or!" Kylie shouted. "We can get dressed up really nice and go to the fanciest restaurant on the beach—order lobster! Dame, you love lobster!" She was beside herself.

"Maybe tomorrow," I said. "Today, tonight, we should just stay in the room or immediately by the room."

"Okay. I get it." My sister nodded, and then we all started eating.

The food was pretty good, even if all I'd ordered were burgers, fried chicken, fries, and potato salad. I had a little bit of everything and enjoyed the cool breeze we got on the deck.

Everything was chill…

And, again, I couldn't believe how relaxed I was.

The only thing that would make this totally perfect…Jordan.

Whenever we have the chance, we're coming back here by ourselves.

_The beach, champagne, the room…the sound of the waves washing ashore. _

_The stars would shine in the clear, night sky._

_The wind gently blowing Jordan's hair. _

_And I'd have a diamond ring in my pocket . . . _

_Wow. _

I couldn't think of anything more perfect.

The mental image alone was enough to put butterflies in my stomach, and a knot in my throat, because I hoped we'd make it that far.

I'm so used to the bottom falling out on everything…yet I yearned for so much.

I knew I wanted Jordan. She was it, but I also knew I wanted more. I just have no idea what "more" is. I wanted more than us being together, more than us getting a place together and getting through our residencies together, more than her being my wife one day.

While I felt my heart rate skyrocket—nervous, suddenly—I stopped eating and sat back in my chair.

"What's wrong?" Kylie squeezed my hand.

"Nothing." I didn't know if something truly was amiss.

"You can eat more than that. We have all this food," she laughed.

"I…had enough. Thanks. If you guys want, I'll take care of the mess. Youse go—" I gestured to the beach.

Kylie leaned over and bit my arm.

I jerked away. "What's wrong with you?"

"I just love you, Dame-y Bear."

I smiled despite...whatever.

My sister can be cute sometimes. "See?! Got you to smile!" She flicked my bicep and left her chair.

"Dude, every time you call me Peto, I'll call you Dame-y Bear," Peto laughed.

I quirked a brow. "Wouldn't that be _more_ embarrassing for _you_ rather than me?"

"Only my mom and I can call him that." Kylie was serious, territorial over my nickname, and I thought she shared everything with Peto.

He rolled his eyes. "I wanna go see if we can rent some jet skis."

"Tomorrow," I said as I fed Noah a piece of chicken. "Tonight, like I said, we'll just chill."

"At these places you gotta rent them beforehand. I'll just call the front desk."

I didn't say anything.

"You want me to reserve you one, too?" he asked.

It sounded like a cool idea, but I'd never ridden one before. "Nah…I gotta keep my eyes…everywhere," I sighed.

"Get one for me—"

"No." I shot my sister down. "That's straight up ocean—rough waters."

She opened her mouth to protest, but then she closed it.

"There's lifejackets and they don't have to go far—they could ride together. Like, like when Santino—" Maggie started blubbering as she faced Kylie. "This place is so pretty. It reminds me—"

I tilted my head as I stared at her. "When have youse ridden a Jet Ski?"

"I'm going to call him." She went back inside.

I turned to my sister. "Did they recently take a vacation?" Although, before making amends yesterday afternoon, we hadn't spoken since the "Noah incident," I would have heard about it from someone. And I was just curious.

"Gio, can I talk to Dame for a sec?" Kylie asked.

Since Peto's like her puppy, he nodded and entered the suite.

"What's up?" I asked.

She leaned into me. "You know how Mom and Dad were supposed to be in Bermuda?" she whispered.

I nodded.

"Don't say anything. Don't even tell Sonny I told you—no one can know. Pinky swear." She held out her hand.

We locked pinkies as I said, "I swear."

"I mean, you can know—everyone else in the fam knows. I think Dad just wants to respect your wishes, letting you…do whatever, not be so involved?" she asked. "That's what Mom said, why she said no one should tell you. She also, at the time, didn't want you to worry either, because there was no danger—"

I waved a hand to further her along. "Get to the point."

"Dad had dropped me off at Unc's and then he left. Supposedly he had business somewhere—I don't know where. Then the next morning, while I thought Mom and Dad had left already, Uncky C brought me back home. I didn't know what was going on. Mom was there, but Dad wasn't…Sonny and Maggie went on _their_ Bermuda vacation in place of them. They even had fake passports with their pictures, but with Mom and Dad's names. Weird."

I nodded, already knowing the punch.

Dad had something to do, and he wanted the Feds to think he was someplace else. Or, something big was going down in New York, and he couldn't be around.

"All they did was fuck in Bermuda. The baby was made there," she giggled. "But…they spent the last day on the beach, where they rented a Jet Ski," she sighed.

"What about you and Mom?" I asked.

Her eyes widened. "We spent two days in this…crappy hotel across from a crappy Burger King in this crappy part of Pennsylvania. Getting to spend so much time with Mom was cool, though. That's all that really mattered, even if we did fight. Then…we were going to spend the remainder of our trip at Cousin Jasper's, but I screwed up." She shook her head. "This…nasty guy was totally macking on Mom while we were at this bar—"

"In Middletown?" I raised a brow and gasped, only to slap my hand on the table. The fucking bullshit broadcast Dad and Sonny were laughing at…

"The Switch Inn? I heard Mom talking about it…It caught fire a few days after we left." Her face paled. "I—" She swallowed. "I mean, I—"

"What's wrong?" I was nonchalant as I grasped her hand.

"You don't think Dad or Sonny…I mean, when I told them about what happened, they got upset. Still, Mom said telling them was the right thing to do…"

"It was, but what did this guy do to youse?" I asked.

"Nothing. I called him a name and told him to stay away from Mom. She looked really uncomfortable, but you know how Mom can still be nice even when people are assholes." She rambled.

"A fire? That's an accident," I said.

"I'm not that stupid," she whispered. "And…the gross guy was an old boyfriend of Mom's, but it was way before she met Dad, and he used to be good-looking."

I snorted, thinking my father would ice some dude just for that—having once slept with my mother.

That was a weird thought, though…since I can't imagine my parents not being together.

"I don't mind hearing about things, but since I didn't need to go away, too—I bet that's why they asked you to keep it from me." Thinking back to the first time I brought Jordan over…It all made perfect sense now. I wasn't angry, but I would have been if they'd told me that evening. It wasn't worth getting upset over now.

"But…do you think Sonny or Dad—"

"No." I shook my head. "I happen to read the New York Times everyday," I lied, but two days after it happened, I googled it out of curiosity—wondering why they were so fascinated by it. I couldn't make heads or tails. "I remember reading that article. They said it was a gas leak, which caused an explosion." All of which isn't that hard to fabricate, if you know what you're doing. "It wasn't arson."

She blew out a breath. "Cool. I'm glad. He had ugly teeth, was old, but…"

"How was your visit with Alice? Did you see Uncle Em?" I wondered how my mother's family was.

"Oh, we had a blast at the bar before skeezy came on to Mom." She smiled. "It was like being one of them—one of the girls."

I grinned, happy for her.

"But then…after I yelled at that guy…I mean, us being in Middletown was supposed to be a secret, and I blew our cover." She shrugged. "We never stayed there. We left…I was so scared."

"Why?" I asked.

"Like, intuition?" She rubbed her stomach. "We were running away, and I didn't know why, but Mom had a gun…Uncle Carlisle met us on the highway. He had Ant with him…Ant took the rental car and most of our stuff back to their place, while Unc rushed Mom and me to the airport. We spent two days in Orlando, which was okay."

I nodded, but what she'd just said…bothered me just a bit.

If Dad was off and Sonny was away, I should have been the one to pick them up—look out for them.

"The, uh, the sun's not gonna be out all day." I jerked my chin toward the water.

Kylie smiled, reaching over to hug me. "I'm so glad you're here."

I rubbed her back. "You know what? Me too."

"I wished…Well, Mom's in Hawaii. She's safe. I just wished we could have all been together," she giggled. "Even Daddy, even if Dad would try to keep me and Gio apart."

I laughed. "He wouldn't…Dad's not that bad."

"Not even a little bit." She shook her head, leaning back. "I realize that now. And Mom would yell at him in the high-pitched, 'EDWARD!'"

I threw my head back.

"You should get some sun." She poked my chest.

"Kylie, last summer, all I did was work…" That was the height of my time as an assassin, whatever. I'd be in school and then do what I'd have to. I'd see Julie whenever I could, and would chill—ride along with Sonny any chance I got. "I can't remember the last time I even had a weekend off…I know I've missed days, but what do I do on those days off? Go to Brooklyn—"

"Almost drink yourself to death…" She sang.

"That was no picnic." I cleared my throat.

She furrowed her brow and then reached out to yank my nipple.

"Jesus, oww!" I covered them with my hands. "What's wrong with you?"

"I never had the chance to tell you—you can't scare us like that." Now she was pouting.

"All right…I know." I shrugged.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before she went to find Peto.

When they settled down, chillin' on a sheet spread on the sand, I sat back to put my feet up and...check out that book. It started slow—about some teenage chick whose parents had died. She talks about her friends, some old boyfriend named Matt, who she no longer has feelings for, and then there's the hunky new student.

I was waiting for the vampire stuff to start, turning pages when the cell phone rang. "Yo." I knew it was Sonny.

"Hey." It was Dad.

I sat up, taking my feet down. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's perfect." He sounded happy. "I'm just checking on you guys."

I nodded, furrowing my brow. "Right…we're fine, just had lunch. Now we're just hanging out."

"That's awesome. Your chick didn't come?" he asked.

"Obviously not," I whispered.

"In my mind that says a lot, son. I-I'm sorry. I know I don't know her well, but after all this time youse have been together—"

"She's not in danger," I defended. "She's dedicated to her work and school. However, I'm more dedicated—loyal to our family. And if Sonny didn't ask me—if not for Kylie and Maggie, I'd probably still be there, too."

"No…When things happen, you have to leave town—"

Anger bubbled up inside me. "You know what says a lot in _my_ mind?" I didn't give him a chance to reply. "You taking off on some lavish excursion, leaving my brother in the fucking lurch! Some boss you are." I was pissed at him, for even passing judgment on Jordan when he doesn't know her. He only knows what I've told him.

He snorted, sounding amused, which added fuel to my fire. "Your brother is more than capable of handling what's been asked of him, and you should mind your business on that front."

"Why did you call?" I asked. "I was relaxed—chill, and you call to bust my balls?"

"That's my bad. I called to see how youse were doing, but when I talked about your girlfriend, I hit a nerve…" He trailed off. "My mistake . . . Your sister is okay?"

"She's fine," I said. "How's Mom?"

He sighed. "Worried about you guys—"

"At least one of youse gives a fuck."

"Right, because I don't care." His tone was sarcastic. "Dame, I just told you," he sighed. "I didn't call to fight with you…When I found out your girlfriend didn't go, I thought you might have been upset."

"Well, I'm not because I understand," I said.

"And I'd never leave if you guys were danger. How can you think that?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Your brother thinks I left him high and dry?"

"No." I chuckled. "You have him trained well. He defended you. He can't see the truth—"

"Son, you should have more faith in me." He was almost crooning. "In due time, you know? When you need to, you'll know. I know it's not _easy_ to see when the lights are out—"

I groaned.

"But you're as blind as a fucking bat!" he shouted. "You're trying my patience. I swear to Christ . . . Here, you talk to him."

"Hello…?" Mom got on the phone. "What's wrong?"

I smiled but I wasn't happy. "He couldn't even finish our conversation…"

"He was losing his temper, didn't wanna say things that might cause a rift between you guys. Please understand that," she pleaded. "He tries so hard when it comes to you, Dame. He's always so understanding and calm, and he tries, and tries..."

I nodded. "Whatever."

"Don't 'whatever' me." She sounded on edge, too. It was probably my fault.

"How's Hawaii?" I asked.

"Oh, you know…How's Kylie?"

"Good—safe. We're all fine," I said.

My mother's voice kind of calmed me down.

"How is Maggie? How did her doctor's appointment go? I know she was getting the results of her screening, too."

"She's okay…a little sad being away from her husband, but _you_ know how that goes. Baby and Mom are both very healthy—they got loads of ultrasound photos to pass around."

She squealed. "I can't wait!"

I laughed. "It's cute…a teeny baby. You can see everything."

Mom hummed. "I should let you go . . ." Her voice became shaky at the end while I heard my father bustling around, grumbling. "Can you apologize to your father?" she whispered.

"No." I deadpanned. "I'm not sorry. The man wasn't around when it counted back in the day, and now?"

"Take that back!" She had venom in her tone. "Take it back, Dame."

"You know it's true." I was upset, not angry, not anything.

"Just hang up on him." My father had shouted. "He's upset—he's gotta make everyone else miserable, and I won't have him bring you down with his crap."

"My crap," I laughed. "Just…hang up on me."

"You're wrong, Dame. And you _will_ apologize, and don't you dare say you won't." Her voice was stern. "I love you. We love you…and thank you for helping out. We appreciate you taking the time…" She sniffled.

"I—I don't—I didn't mind at all," I whispered, wondering why...she was so thankful. "I love you, too."

"Send them my love—give a bear hug to Kylie for me."

"I promise. Talk to you soon." I ended the call.

Aggravated, I lit a cigarette and pushed that stupid book away from me.

_**/=/=/=/=/**_

_**H**_ours later, we ordered dinner and everything their hearts desired.

My sister stole the champagne—tried to take the chocolate strawberries but Maggie threatened to hit her—and then locked herself in her room with her boyfriend.

I'd since gotten pretty far with the book. It wasn't too bad, and I dug the mysterious Damon character.

"That's a good book, right? It sucks you in…I think it's so funny—you reading that." Maggie had a mouthful, her teeth brown from the chocolate.

I shrugged. "When in Rome…"

"Do a lot of Romans," she laughed. "That's what Santino always says."

"Right." I let out a chuckle. "We had a long day." I sipped from my bottle of scotch. "If you're tired…I'll tell Peto to sleep in there with Kylie." It was going on ten p.m. and they'd already been in there for a while.

"I'll sleep here on the couch." I just didn't care—wanted to be alone, but I felt bad leaving my pregnant sister-in-law on a sofa; it wasn't fluffy or comfortable like my parents' or Sonny's.

"No…I spoke to Santino earlier…um, you take the bedroom. I'll stay out here," she giggled.

"What does one have to do with the other?" I asked, her words confusing me.

She pursed her lips, contemplative, and then she looked at the time. "I have to pee."

I let out a large breath and then—once again—I threw that stupid book away from me to gulp my booze. Then, just a bit tipsy, I put the cap back on; Kylie's words from earlier haunting me.

These days, I really don't drink.

Circumstances withstanding, I think I can have some liquor.

There was a soft knock at the door, and my head whipped to it quick.

"Yeah?" I called out, cocking the slide back on my quiet nine.

"Room service." The voice was too low to decipher.

"What's wrong?" Maggie left the bathroom to stare at my hand.

I tilted my head to the door. "Get in the bedroom."

"Okay…" She smiled at me. "But…answer the door." Maggie turned for the room.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's me…open up already."

I hoped back, surprised, and then it took a second for me to recover. "Jordan?" I placed the gun in my waist and unlocked all the locks… "What—how did you get here?" I took a wary glance up and down the hall before pulling her in.

She giggled, wrapping her arms around me. "I missed you. When your brother called…" she cried, looking up to me.

Fuck. I felt like tearing up, too, as I stared at that gorgeous face. "How-how'd you get here?"

"Santino had your cousin drive me. I offered to take the bus." She wiped under her eyes.

I took over for her, helped clean her face. "Anthony…" My heart sank a bit. Instantly wondering, if Ant was just right here—he drove ALL the way here—why not stay, or at least say hello?

"Yeah, Anthony. He seems like a cool guy." She smiled.

I nodded. "He-he definitely is." I blew out a breath.

"God…Cullen, I love you." She rested her head to my chest.

"Hey!" Maggie waved. "I thought you'd get here earlier."

"We hit traffic," Jordan said.

"You knew?" I laughed. "You knew she was coming and didn't tell me?" And Maggie watched me being miserable for most of the evening.

"Consider it pay back for the ham." Maggie dragged a sheet, a blanket, and a pillow over to the couch. "Go…" She shooed us to the bedroom.

I let out another large breath, reaching around Jordan to lock up the door again. "Maggie, if you need anything—"

"I have the other one." She showed me the other quiet nine that was in the bag.

"What, do you _all_ have them?" Jordan asked.

"When you're a Cullen, I'll get one in your favorite color." Maggie teased, and I stiffened at her words, glancing down to see Jordan's reaction.

"Black…seems like a classic," she said, smiling wide.

My teeth gnashed together, so I'd be able to swallow my excitement. "Um…my sister and her boyfriend hijacked the room with the king—wait, what excuse did you give? What made you change your mind?" I grabbed her duffle from the floor.

"Well…at like four, when Santino called, I suddenly had diarrhea. And I now have a fever, and tomorrow I'll have the flu…like you." She grinned, pointing to me. "And there's no way we can be around patients in that condition, right?"

"No fucking way." I leaned into her and she moved away from my kiss.

"Goodnight, Maggie." She waved.

I looked over to my sister-in-law, too, to mouth a thank you.

"In here?" Jordan pointed to the bedroom.

"Yeah…it's a full-size, which will be like a king to us," I laughed and ushered her inside. "We're so used to navigating a twin…" I placed her bag down next to the bed that still had sheets, my side. "What are you doing here?" I was still so fucking shocked and happy.

She sighed, kicking off her sneakers. "I just…I can't explain it. I need to be with you—not because of danger, which even your brother says there's none." She shrugged. "I missed you, like I've never missed anyone before." Her lip quivered.

I nodded, sitting back on the bed. "Come here." My arms wrapped around her, and I pulled her to lay flat on top of me. "I love you…You're the best thing to ever happen to me…My best friend." I pushed her hair away from her face—my beautiful face. "I know exactly what you were trying to say."

She hummed, resting her head on my chest. "I'm so glad we're together."

"Me too," I said, hugging her tightly.

I felt like I could lie here forever—like this.

But Jordan seemed to have other plans . . .

"I have to do something," she whispered, and I was already shaking my head no. 'Cause there was no way. Fuck, she'd just arrived. What could she possibly have to do, huh? That was crazy talk. "Correction: there's something I _want_ to do, _need_ to do." She pushed herself up, her hands on my chest.

Absentmindedly, she played with my chain. "Wanna know what, Cullen?" She had the only beautiful fucking smile.

I touched her cheek, brushing my thumb over her soft lips. "We can stay right here, that's what," I said. "Get back here."

Her smile turned seductive; she just gave a slow shake of her head, and then pulled her shirt over her head.

_Fuck me_.

She exposed her chest, and this…

I pointed. "That's new." Her bra, it had to be new, because I'd never seen it before. It was dark purple, satiny, and pushed her big tits together.

I swallowed, mad thirsty all of a sudden.

"Um." She giggled and looked down at herself. "Yeah, I uh…I ordered it a couple weeks ago—wanted to save it for something special."

"Christ," I muttered and sat up, and I just had to have my hands all over her. She was killing me. "So sexy." I palmed those bad boys as my cock started hardening, and I cursed our clothes. "We should get naked," I told her.

_Naked and nasty. _

Leaning in, I buried my face in the softness and kissed, licked, fucking bit.

"Oh, fuck." She grinded against my cock. "But you're ruining my plan, Cullen."

_Can't say I give a shit._

But Jordan evidently did. She pushed me back down again, but before I could bitch a fit, she began to tear off our clothes. And that worked for me. Don't ask me where it all landed, 'cause my eyes were fixed on her chest. Exposed skin. Soft belly. Those thick thighs—that I loved burying my face between. Hell, even her cute little feet.

I remembered it all started when I asked if I could rub her feet . . .

Seemed like a long time ago.

"Scoot up," she said, lust in her voice. "I want to show you how much I've missed you." She grinned.

I chuckled and obeyed, definitely game for whatever. And while I scooted toward the middle of the bed, Jordan hooked her fingers through the belt loops of my jeans and pulled, taking my boxers off, too.

I lifted my hips automatically.

And my cock slapped against my abdomen, causing me to groan.

"Oh, yes." She licked her bottom lip, staring, and I had her kneeling between my legs. Wearing only that bra, and—fuck yeah, a matching thong. I'd definitely get into that later. "Now—" she lowered her face a little and gripped the base of me "—tell me what to do."

"Put it in your mouth." I blew out a breath, antsy as fuck, and nodded. "Suck it. Suck my dick."

Pushing myself up on my elbows, I looked down as she closed the distance and flicked the tip of her tongue across the head. Meanwhile, I felt her stare. But I couldn't for the life of me look away from her mouth on my cock. It was already harder than a fucking rock and she'd barely even started.

With a low hum, she sucked me in completely. I held my breath, tensed my thighs, and then pushed some of her dark hair away when it got in her face. And I kept one hand there, needing to feel more. Her lips were all wet and pouty, tight around my dick.

"Fuck . . ." I shuddered and bucked my hips, getting deeper. She moaned and tongued me, practically going to town on my cock. "That's it." I felt with my fingers how her cheeks hollowed out—it was the sexiest fucking thing, and she made these slurpy sounds that drove me nuts. A hiss slipped out through clenched teeth when I hit the back of her throat. "Oh, baby."

Then she released me with a wet pop and I was ready to force her down on me again. But her wicked grin stopped me, made me curious, so I watched instead. I watched as she got up on her knees and unclasped her bra, releasing my favorite tits.

My mouth fucking watered.

"What are you…?" There was no need to finish my question, 'cause Jordan answered it by creeping forward and down, my cock wedged between her breasts. Another reason to swallow hard.

_Fucking hell_.

At the speed of a bullet, I pushed an extra pillow behind my head so I could see clearly, yet still use both my hands.

"I know you want to," she said in a singsong voice.

I laughed, outta breath, and…_yeah, no kidding, sweetheart._

Like I'd ever say no to fucking her tits? "Damn—I love you." Had to say it.

Cupping her heavy breasts in my hands, I slid my cock—wet with her saliva—between them. Then I smashed them together, squeezing me, and started to thrust. I pulled up my knees, too; that gave me better leverage, and my girl braced herself on the mattress. "No fucking words," I groaned. It was too goddamn sexy.

"It can get hotter."

I raised a brow, beyond turned on, hooked, and intrigued. "Oh yeah?" I squeezed a little harder, sped up, and managed to pinch her nipples between my fingers.

"Mmhmm." Sadly, she dipped her head so I couldn't see, but any grief flew out the window when I felt her hot breath on the head of my dick again. Whenever I thrust forward, she suckled me.

I moaned, threw my head back, digging it into the pillow, and began to fuck her relentlessly. At the same time, she lavished my dick with attention from her lips and tongue.

But I still missed the visual.

It was always like that with Jordan—addicted to her looks, her stacked body and gorgeous face.

So, I stopped moving and told her, "I want you on your back."

Without missing a beat, she plopped down next to me, giggling breathlessly, and I followed. There was a cheesy smile on my face, and I couldn't do shit about it. But I figured, since Jordan looked just as happy . . .

Straddling her stomach, I lost myself in pleasure right away. My slick cock disappeared between her tits, my hands pushing them together roughly. I loved how freaky she could get sometimes—like she's my perfect match.

"Do…" Christ. I was already panting. "Do that thing again, with—with your tongue." I pushed forward, and she was there, wrapping her lips around the head. Tonguing, licking, suckling.

In another thrust, I squeezed out a drop of arousal and Jordan swiped it up with her tongue. "Oh, yeah…"

It went on like this, and she turned me into this savage; I wanted to fuck her stupid, claim her, mark her, whatever.

My gut tightened, and I heard her whimpers and shallow breaths.

I screwed my eyes shut, insides tensing and coiling; it was fucking intense.

The slick friction, the sounds of her labored breathing—my own, too—and then her hands on my thighs, back to my ass, spurring me on.

"I love you, Damion."

"Fuck!" I thrust forward jerkily as I started to come. The pleasure exploded in my body. As if on instinct, I looked down at her face through hooded eyes, needing to see this. My cock pulsed, streams of come sliding down her collarbone, neck, and chin. I gritted out a moan at the sight. Shudders coursed through me. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Tension dissipated, satisfaction taking over.

In the end, I collapsed onto my side next to her, and I was breathing as if I'd done nothing all day but swim laps in Sonny's pool. _Jesus Christ_.

My body relaxing, it felt like I melted into the mattress.

Momentarily, my eyes grew wide when Jordan grinned and drew a finger over her chin, then popped it in her mouth. "Goddamn, woman." I was still panting—my heart rate off the fucking charts.

Jordan looked all smug and so damn sexy and adorable. Definitely pleased with herself. And fuck it, so was I.

_Gimme a sec and I'll show you just how pleased I am, baby._

I huffed a chuckle through choppy breaths and stole a smooch. "You really missed me, huh?"

Her grin morphed into a gorgeous smile. "Definitely. You don't know how much you've gotten under my skin." For a second, there was shyness flashing across her face. Something tender, too.

The warmth spreading in my chest felt incredible. I wanted it to stay there.

I was ready to lighten the tension, though—as heavenly as this was. "I'm on your skin, too." I smirked and pointed to her chest.

"Cullen!" She laughed and threw a pillow at my head. "I was trying to be all sweet, and you—"

I cut her off with a kiss and crushed her to me. "Oh yeah—you're sticky sweet," I chuckled into the kiss. "Let's shower together—then I'm gonna take my time wit'chu in this bed." Had to make use of a bed this size before it was back to the dorms.

Right?

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts.**

******Huge thanks to CaraNo for contributing the lime!**


	49. By the Book

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. Beta'd by HollettLA.**

****NOTE** This is a long one, so get a comfortable chair. Also, to keep the story going, I've slowed us down. And I KNOW you all miss Edward and Bella, but I promise to make up for that . . . Soon.**

**We're also close to the end here, folks!**

**ATTN: my new fic is now live! Link and Summary at the end!**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Chapter Forty-Nine: By the Book**

**Damion POV (continued)**

_**D**_espite having a small headache, or a tiny hangover, knowing I was waking up next to Jordan had me smiling wide as soon as I opened my eyes.

It was early. The sun wasn't shining strong, and when I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand, I saw it was half past six.

"Good morning," Jordan said.

Turning over to face her, I was surprised that she sat in bed reading. "What'cha doin'?"

"Oh, you know, reading my porn," she giggled.

I grinned, taking a peek at the textbook in her hands. "'Pathologic Basis of Disease'…sounds hot." It's really not, more like helpful and informative.

"I marked some pages for you." She nibbled on the highlighter.

I bit my lip, wanting to toss that book across the room, but I didn't. "I think it's…" I wanted to say cute, sexy, smart, but my words got stuck when she unleashed her gaze on me.

"It's so quiet," she whispered. "No one's up yet."

Of course, since she's used to my family being loud, she'd think that. Also, our building isn't that quiet in the morning either.

"I…I don't think they'll be waking up anytime soon." I placed my arm over her torso and kissed her heart. "It's Saturday…" I jumped to grab the cell, to see if anyone had called, because…just for a second there, I forgot where we were and why we were here.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." No one had called, so I placed the phone down. "What would you like to do today?"

She put the book down to get comfy in her nook, and I squeezed her to my side.

"I'm so…happy you're here." _And I was, I really was._

"Me too…Aren't we supposed to…lay low or…lam it? I brought my books, so we could study."

"Lam it?" I laughed.

"I googled it," she whispered.

I grasped her chin, angling her mouth up to mine. "I'd like…a nice relaxing day on the beach." It was a silly concept that I hoped Jordan would go for. If it'd been a dog's age since I took some time off just to be, then I couldn't imagine Jordan had. She's never missed a day, and even on days off, she manages to end up at the hospital. "We'll do nothing, absolutely nothing…all day." I chuckled. "We'll eat—three real meals while we're sitting down and they're still hot. And we'll take our time to actually taste what we're eating, and we'll just...fucking relax on the beach." My eyes raked down her form, wondering what kind of bathing suit she had, never having seen her in one, and I wanted to see those cute feet in some flip-flops.

"Oh." She sounded nervous.

"You can do it." I tickled her side. "And you won't pick up a book…right?"

"All day?" She sounded like it'd be torturous.

"We'll have fun."

"We'll spend quality time together?" she asked, trying to brush my messy hair down with her fingers. Jordan does it every morning, even though I've told her it's a lost cause.

"Definitely. Plus, Peto—I mean, Gio—" I rolled my eyes "—and my sisters are cool, fun…We'll have a good time."

"Doing what, though?" she asked.

"Nothing…" I sighed. "This beach…is our oyster." Yawning, I scooted away to hover over her. "Having fun...? You know what that is, right?"

Jordan nodded. "Since I met you...yeah, I know what fun is," she giggled, holding my cheeks.

My lips met hers for a smooch that was too short, but I'll get back to them. "We'll start with…" I quirked a brow, leaning back on my calves while I brought her panties down. "We'll start by making love." I grabbed her ankle to bring it up to my shoulder. "Sound good?"

She stared at me with her chest heaving, eyes locked to mine. "Sounds…wonderful."

I nodded, ghosting my lips up to her calf, my hand rubbing along her thigh—going higher where her skin is insanely soft.

_I love to knead my meaty-meats while my pussy stares and glistens at_ me.

Jordan was exposed, her legs open . . . and I could get lost, gawking at her all day.

But then I had another random thought, because no matter how hard I tried, we weren't actually on a carefree vacation, and I'd forgotten all about…everything when Jordan walked through that door. "Where's your cell?" I wanted to shut it off.

"Your brother has it," she answered. "I didn't ask…why he wanted it."

That struck me as odd...on her part. "And you just gave it to him without asking a million questions or protesting?" I shrugged, shocked.

She took her leg back to get up on her knees and come toward me. "Well, I didn't_ see_ your brother. And knowing what he does—" her eyes widened "I'd be too scared to not...just do what he says—"

"Whoa..." I kissed her forehead. "Sonny's...a pussy cat, a nice guy."_ Unless you're on his bad side,_ I thought. "You don't have to be scared of him."

She dismissed my words. "I was told to give it to Anthony, but that Anthony would give it to Santino . . . And despite...whatever, you…once said I could trust your brother, so I did."

"Good," I whispered. "But...my brother runs a nightclub." Honestly, I didn't want her to fear him, but then another thought came to mind, my stomach knotting up.

She giggled. "He's so tall and big—"

"Did you do what he said—did you come out here because _he_ asked?"

"No way!" she exclaimed. "I missed you so much."

I nodded.

"You believe me, right?" She tightened her hold on me, almost frantic. "You don't know what it was like. Not knowing and then missing you like crazy—"

"I'm sorry." I pecked her lips. "I'm sorry."

"I missed you..." Jordan blew out a breath, relieved. "And knowing I was seeing you soon…I didn't care. Giving up my phone was nothing compared to how rewarding it was—getting to see _you, _Cull_—_Damion."

I crashed my lips to hers.

As soon as I kissed her, all bets were off.

For some reason, when she calls me Damion...

Overeager and excited, I tossed her onto her back and eased between her thighs, while Jordan frantically rid me of my boxers with her feet.

"Just…" She panted, weaving her fingers into my hair.

My lips landed anywhere they could while I agreed, knew what she was saying. And without much else, I grabbed my cock to line us up, and then I fell in.

"Fuck…I missed you."

I grunted my agreement and brought my hips back to slam into her again.

In this moment, which was much like last night, I felt whole—complete. But we only fooled around last night, and I was pretty much drunk... We didn't get to the real-deal fucking.

"Harder," she demanded.

I stilled to meet her gaze. "We're just getting started." I smiled, grasping her hands to bring them above her head. "I plan to take my time." My hips moved in a slow, steady rhythm, while I dug deeper with every thrust. Her pussy was wet, warm, and tight—everything I remembered, since it'd felt like forever, when it'd only been a couple of days. "I missed you." My muscles were taut, excitement and pleasure filling my gut, and I needed to relax, or else I'd blow my load in a minute.

"Let me touch you…"

I disagreed, tightening my hold on her hands, as my forehead rested at the crook of her neck. "Just let me fuck you."

She moaned a loud one, her legs wrapping around my waist.

And that sound…

It drove me insane, and then I started slamming into her—giving her more of what she wanted as groans and pleas of pleasure fell from her lips. She was too loud, but I didn't care.

_I didn't give a fuck._

"Scream, baby...lemme hear what I do." I bit her jaw, my lips sliding down to her neck before I leaned back and let go of her hands, so I could use my own.

"Yeah, play with—" She didn't have to finish her sentence. "Fuck—" I pinched and pulled on her nipples while we were still connected; yet I didn't move.

"You like that?" I knew she did.

She whimpered, digging her ass into the mattress to thrust up. That's when the multitasking began, needing to give her an orgasm that would make her scream and shout and shake.

My mouth latched onto her nipple, while I tweaked the other between my fingers—my dick moving in and out of her slowly—as my free hand came into contact with her clit, my thumb making circles.

"Oh my God. Oh my God—" She came in seconds, tightening around me, but she swallowed her cry.

Jordan rode it out, trailing off with a sigh, and my hands came up to sneak under her shoulders—get a good grip on her before I started digging into her again.

When the headboard continually banged into the wall, I smirked, grasping it so my hand would stop the sound. And holding on helped me to go faster, harder...

"Christ…" She stared at my chest, her hands going from my sides to wrap around my neck. "So…hot," she whispered.

I bit my lip, bringing her leg to rest on my shoulder, and the vision of her…all open, on her back…a small smile playing at her mouth. "I love you."

For the first time, that sentiment didn't hold any weight, and I racked my brain for a word—anything that might mean more, but I couldn't think of any.

"I love you, too—get on your back." She slapped my chest.

I shook my head, needing to stay where I was.

"On. Your. Back." She nipped my bottom lip, pushing me away from her.

I let out a large breath, giving her what she wanted.

When I lay down, I welcomed her on top of me, but she didn't hop to it.

Instead, she scooted low to grip my cock tight, sneaking her tongue out to lick the tip.

"Put it in your mouth," I said, and she followed my order, taking me so deep...

A shudder rocked through my body as I melted back into the mattress and tried to keep Jordan's hair out of her face.

I caressed her cheek with the back of my hand, watching as she licked her arousal off of me.

It was the hottest sight, and I wished I had a video camera. Well, I wished I could turn on my phone, and use that camera.

When I felt that fire starting and almost spreading from my gut, my body stiffened as I grabbed her face to stop her.

"What's wrong?" She wore a smirk, her hand still jacking my dick hard.

"Get over here," I said, sitting up to get ahold of her waist when she slightly turned.

I needed some time with that ass.

"Turn around."

She squealed, getting on all fours with her glorious ass in the air—exposed to me.

Overeager, yet again, my hand came down with a hard thwack! "You should be punished for that bullshit."

She peeked at me from over her shoulder. "It was…" Her face fell.

"Relax." With both hands on her ass cheeks, I ran my nose along the soft skin as I started placing kisses over where I'd spanked her. "I was kidding." My fingers crawled up the inside of her thigh until I found her clit. "Come for me again." I bit her ass, rubbing up and down her soaked pussy.

"Fuck me," she said.

I disagreed, my tongue making a clear path to her asshole to get it wet. "My hand is fucking you…" My finger entered her, and she was so snug, I let out a hiss.

She started to bounce back roughly, moaning and grasping the sheets, as my thumb placed pressure on her asshole.

Jordan looked gorgeous, sexy—my chest felt tight, and then I gave her what she wanted.

Hopping onto my knees, my cock found her fast, and I pulled her hair to get her back flush against my chest.

I held her stomach and my hand snuck down to that clit again. "One more." And then I could go apeshit, fuck her to my heart's content.

Jordan was relaxed yet frenzied as she started pinching her own nipples, moving her ass to try and get more dick.

When she came again, I didn't let her come down from that one—throwing her back onto all fours, while I placed my hands on her hips to fuck her with no abandon.

There's nothing else I love more than to watch my cock as it disappears into her pussy—nothing hotter, and the image put me into the trance-like state, getting heated and heated, until I thought I'd explode.

That's when I pulled out to jack my dick—come all over her ass—a grunt escaping me.

Jordan was out of breath when she quickly turned to face me. "It's on my ass, isn't it?"

I panted, giving her a small smirk, as I felt as though I could pass out—sleep another night's worth.

But I couldn't.

"Turn around." I used the undershirt I wore yesterday to get the jizz off her ass.

"I'm on the pill…I don't know why you don't just come inside," she giggled, and I wouldn't answer her. However, I knew that even if I'd pulled out, we were playing with fire since the pill isn't 100%. She knows that, too, and her eagerness for me to come inside of her confuses me. Maybe she wants a kid in the future, but I know she doesn't want one now.

_I need to buy some condoms today...I didn't think I needed any this weekend._

"Are you hungry? Want breakfast?" I pulled my boxers back on and grabbed the nine.

"You have to carry that everywhere?"

I nodded, not saying more. "Get dressed…I should—" I tilted my head to the door, but it was still early and quiet, and I doubted anyone was awake.

Jordan threw herself back onto the bed. "In a minute…"

I chuckled, glad she was actually taking a moment. "All right."

After I used the bathroom, taking the only long-ass piss, I cleaned up and brushed my teeth before entering the living room area to find it empty.

The couch looked slept on, Maggie's blanket crumpled, the sheet still there. "Maggie?" I whispered, looking around the room. She obviously wasn't in the bathroom, and I really didn't want to peek inside Kylie's room…

But that's when I saw the sliding door open just a few inches.

"What are you doing?" I asked, making her jump.

She sat on the deck, watching the sunrise; _I knew_ what she was doing. "I—"

"Get inside!" I jerked my head.

She grabbed her bottle of water and picked Noah up, wearing a pout, but following instructions. "You guys were so loud—woke me up."

"Oh…sorry." I shrugged.

Maggie stared down at that ultrasound photo.

"You'll more than likely see Sonny tonight," I told her.

She nodded, eyes not moving. "I just spoke to him—he was asleep at that _stupid_ place."

"Eclipse?" I smirked, grabbing the room service menu. "You know he doesn't watch the dancers, right? Not since he _met_ you." I hoped to ease her fears. "He works out of there, feels comfortable there, he conducts meetings and shit. It's a front nowadays; he doesn't manage anymore, and all those tits are tired to him anyway," I laughed. "He's only got eyes for you."

Maggie looked withdrawn, staring at the floor now. "Yeah, but..." She met my gaze. "What happens three months from now when I'm fat and—what if our sex life changes because _I_ change?"

"Maggie...for my brother, the sun rises and sets with you. He can't keep his hands off you. He's going to think you beautiful and attractive no matter what size you are. You can trust him." I knew I was correct.

_Wait...God forbid Sonny starts snorting coke again, he might fuck a light socket._

_Kidding. _

I chuckled at my thoughts but continued. "He loves you so fucking much, and you're carrying his kid. All of which will...probably make you sexier...to him." I shrugged.

Maggie grinned, rubbing her stomach.

"Even if you weighed a ton, he'd roll you in flour to find the wet spot." I laughed my ass off.

"That..." Maggie was speechless, but she recovered, giggling like a mad woman. "Oh my God. Why would you say such a thing?" She laughed even harder. "I gotta tell Kylie that...and Santino!"

I snorted, still thinking about it.

She composed herself. "He _is_ a good man. I just...get insecure, I guess. He's so handsome, and _I see_ the way women look at him, and he's got so much power. The women flock, and sometimes we run into women he's...screwed in the past. There's so many of them." Her eyes widened.

"They meant nothing," I said. "There's a huge difference between...fucking for a release, lusting after a person, and then...having sex with the woman you love, making love."

"He's said that, too." She nodded. "I do trust him. I never get on him about that...I just have my stupid brain that plays tricks on me, like...when he doesn't come home, or he's crazy busy. Lately, things have been great, though, _even _though he's busy...My clothes are getting snug," she giggled. "And...It's funny. Sonny does think I'm sexier for filling out? But in a few months, I'll be..." Her eyes widened again.

I stepped closer to lower my voice, bringing it down to a whisper. "A little weight, especially on a woman; I won't lie. I mean, you see Jordan. She's thick...and her curves drive me insane. I_ love_ the way she looks. It'd actually kill me if she tried to change, lose weight, and..." I felt uncomfortable admitting this. "You're gorgeous, Maggie. You're a ten. Just because you gain a few pounds—it won't take anything, _nothing_ away from how attractive you are. You might even look better in Sonny's eyes."

"Thank you for saying that—it was kind and generous of you." She reached to squeeze my hand.

"No problem." I gazed down to the menu again.

"He's always steps ahead, too," she sighed. "He reserved the room next door for us, when or if he's able to come out here…" She made a farting noise with her mouth, looking back to me. "I want chocolate chip pancakes."

"Noted…" I wondered what the rest of the peanut gallery would like. Knowing Jordan, I marked down a breakfast dish with eggs, bacon, and toast. Truth be told, we're not used to eating too heavy in the a.m. "Sorry for waking you up."

Maggie pulled the blanket over herself, getting comfortable again and turning on the TV. "It's okay. No biggie...It's actually harder to sleep without my Santino."

"You're feeling okay? Got some sleep, though?"

"Yeah…I'm good." She still looked so sad.

"If Sonny says he's gonna try...He's gonna try. I'll bet you money he'll be here later. Plus, he already got youse a room? He'll be here." I just hoped things go well for him at that sit-down.

She grinned. "Yeah..."

My head whipped to the bedroom when Jordan emerged, wearing pajamas now. "Morning."

Maggie waved to her.

"Um…" Jordan pointed at me, visibly upset.

I shrugged, silently asking what her problem was.

She just gave me a tight-lipped smile and turned for the bathroom, toothbrush in hand.

I followed her, getting there in the nick of time before she closed the door. "What's the matter?"

She stared at my chest, her eyes trailing down to my feet. "You're walking around naked—"

"I'm in boxers...around my family—"

She shook her head, glancing at Maggie.

"My family," I said again. "Maggie's my sister."

"Regardless, if _I_ walked around in my underwear—"

"I'd throw some money at you." I winked, placing my hands on her hips as I started to sway us. "Shake it, don't break it, took yo' momma nine months to make it!" I sang.

She slapped my bicep, smiling and giggling, but I knew my baby meant business.

And I did not want to argue.

And despite my jovial mood, Jordan doesn't know that I'd kill any fucker that looked at her.

"I'll go put something on." I gave her ass a slap to watch it jiggle. "Damn."

Jordan was still giggling when she disappeared into the bathroom.

Since I hadn't showered yet, I just put my jeans from yesterday back on.

**/=/=/=/**

**Kylie POV**

**/=/=/=/**

Like every morning when I wake up next to Gio, I wore a smile and tangled my legs with his. While I did that, I felt a bit uncomfortable, my stomach feeling off.

"Morning," he grunted.

I squeezed my thighs together. "Morning, baby…" Wary, I scooted from the bed, and that's when I saw it—I got my period. There wasn't a huge mess on the sheets, but I was instantly pissed. "Fuck!"

"What?" Gio hopped up.

Before he could see, I messed the blankets. "I got my period." Meanwhile, we had sex all night—hot, sweaty, the romantic kind of sex, since we'd had champagne, and we're here by the ocean . . .

"This is crap." I started to get dressed.

I'm on the pill, and I haven't missed a pill, and I knew when my period was coming.

But that was two days ago, when I knew I'd get my period some time on Saturday—judging by the useless pills at the end.

Then _all_ the crap happened, and I forgot _all_ about it.

"Ugh!" I tossed everything out of my duffle, tearing through while looking for a tampon or a pad. "This cannot be happening."

"What's wrong?" He had a tone, like he was annoyed, which made me angry.

"Just—" I put my hand up to stop him.

"Talk to me, Ky," he pleaded, grabbing my hand.

"Do you have any tampons? 'Cause if you don't, I doubt you can help me." I pushed his hands away.

"Relax…ask Maggie for one."

"She's pregnant." I scoffed.

"What can I do? You need tissues?"

I didn't answer him and left the room to go to the bathroom.

Maggie was on the couch, in zombie-mode. Damion was on the phone, holding the room service menu, and Jordan—

"Jordan?" I asked, letting out a chuckle. "When did you get here? Do you have a tampon?"

She laughed. "It's great to see you, too."

Uncomfortable, I waited to see if she'd answer my question. "Do you?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

When she left for the other bedroom, I breathed a sigh of relief.

No sooner had Jordan disappeared, than Gio came out from the room fully dressed.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"To the store," he told me, looking to Dame. "Lemme get your keys."

Damion laughed. "You're not going anywhere by yourself. What's so important—"

Suddenly giddy, I turned to wrap my arms around my amazing boyfriend. "You'd buy me tampons?"

He nodded. "You need them, right?"

And I knew he'd be the man I'd marry, although I think I've known that since I was a baby.

"I do…" I thought he was too sweet, which made me weepy, and I bit my quivering lip. "I do."

"Why are you crying?" he asked. "You feel sick?"

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you, too." He chuckled.

"Whoa…" Dame waved his arms. "What's going on?" He seemed confused.

"Here you go!" Jordan tossed me the tampon.

"Thanks!" I rushed into the bathroom to take care of business.

After brushing my teeth, I felt crampy and wondered if Jordan had any Advil, too.

She is studying to be a doctor, but so is my brother, and he doesn't walk around with a pharmacy in his pockets. Jordan also seems like a responsible, adult woman, like my mother who always has a variety of medicines in her purse. Mom's _bag_ is like a pharmacy.

"Do you have any Advil?" I asked her.

She nodded and left the chair she was sitting in again.

"Thanks!" I called after her.

She passed Damion, who walked out of their room with a shirt on now.

"We'll go to the store. I need somethin' anyway. Youse stay here," he said. "Food will be here soon…but you look and make sure it's just the food." He turned to Maggie. "You answer the door." He handed her the gun that sat on the table; meanwhile, he was barely concealing his own on his waist.

I rolled my eyes. "Why is she in charge?" He acts like we're children. "I can—"

Damion barked out a laugh. "We'll be gone ten minutes. I bet they have pads at the lobby gift shop—"

I pursed my lips. "Get me more Advil, too...please."

Dame nodded, grabbing his keys.

"I need tampons, not pads…or get pads, too." I shrugged, thinking it was just my luck to be here in paradise when I get my period.

Gio kissed my forehead. "I'd do anything for you."

I smirked. "You act like this is Camelot and you were challenged to a duel." I started cracking up.

"Dude's about to buy you pads—give him some credit," Dame said before he slobbered on Jordan.

I sighed, staring up to my man. "You're the best."

He hugged me to him tightly, letting out a groan before releasing me.

Once they left, I joined Maggie on the couch. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." She flipped through the channels, giving Jordan a fleeting glance, but then she settled her sights on her. "When you saw Santino, was he okay? Did he look nervous or—"

Jordan shrugged. "I spoke to him. I didn't see him."

"Oh…" Maggie's face fell. "I wish I knew he was okay. He says he's okay, but…"

I rubbed her back. "He's fine and you know it."

It's the worst, I thought, being in the dark like this—not knowing what's really going on, while everyone says it's fine, but you don't really know.

She nodded.

"Why isn't he here, too?" Jordan asked. "I mean…he's also your father's kid." There was loads I knew she didn't understand. "Why only send you guys away? And I thought your parents went to Hawaii?"

I waited on Maggie to answer her, because she's turned into a fantastic liar, but she didn't.

"So, how'd you get here?" I asked.

"Your cousin drove me—Anthony."

I smiled wide. "You met Ant? Isn't he awesome?"

Jordan nodded. "Seemed like a cool guy."

Knowing my cousin, and knowing Dame's been waiting for his forgiveness, I knew that was a huge step toward them mending their friendship—Anthony driving Jordan out here, doing something for Dame. But I wondered why he didn't stay, or why he wasn't on his own vacation.

"Why didn't he come in and say hi?" I thought out loud.

"I know," Jordan said. "It took us like two and a half hours to get here, and then he was driving back . . . He just pulled up outside the resort and told me a room number—said he had to head back. I offered to take the bus, but Santino said no."

"He's amazing—can be the perfect gentleman." Maggie sank farther into the couch, hugging Noah to her chest.

I laughed. "He's no more a gentleman than you are a lady."

"_Gone with the Wind_," she giggled.

I smiled at Noah as I poked his wet, little nose. "Did you take him out?" I asked.

"Yeah…When I woke up, I fed him, and then he went in the sand a little bit ago." She shrugged.

I sighed, throwing myself back. "Dame's got all that cash…We should make him take us shopping."

"You know that's not going to happen," Maggie said. "And we have the beach, the sun…" She groaned. "Shopping? I hate shopping."

I gasped. "What if we went baby shopping? Just to look?"

"I wanna do that with Santino…and it's too early. Anything could happen—"

"Have you had your first trimester screening yet?" Jordan asked.

"Yeah, we got those results the other day while I had my twelve week sonogram. It was negative. We're good. The baby's healthy." She smiled, staring down to her gut.

Excited, I touched her belly, too. It's solid and popping out more. "I can't wait 'til you're huge."

"In like a month we go for a second screening. I hate all the tests, but I want them all so I know . . ." Maggie trailed off.

"You're so young," Jordan said.

"I know how old I am," Maggie whispered, but I hoped Jordan didn't hear the snark. My sister-in-law hates it when people speak of her age, and I get it. Because _she_ gets it from_ all_ angles, everyone has comments.

"I meant...you're young and you're healthy," Jordan explained. "You don't need _all_ the tests…definitely not the amnio. If the first screening came out good, the chances of the second coming out positive are _significantly_ lower—"

Maggie turned to smile at her. "Thanks for that. My mind just..." She tapped her forehead. "It runs away and I have worries."

"That's normal. Plus, you're hormonal . . . I'm interested in picking OB/GYN...as a specialty," Jordan said.

Maggie gasped. "Well, maybe in a few years, if we have another one...You can be my doctor."

"Sure," Jordan giggled.

"What do they screen for anyway?" I asked, looking from Jordan to Maggie.

"Down Syndrome, Spina Bifida—any chromosomal abnormalities, if you're having twins. That's often missed with the first ultrasound . . ." Jordan counted off her fingers, and then Maggie let out a whimper.

"I don't want my baby to have spina-whatever." She tried her hardest not to cry, her face turning all red.

"Let it out," I said.

Maggie let out a wail . . . and then she drew in a deep breath.

I rubbed her back. "Your baby's gonna be healthy and beautiful, and what if you have twins?" My eyes widened. "That'd be awesome, not a bad thing. You could gimme one."

Maggie giggled through her tears, and I turned to Jordan. "That wasn't your fault. It was mine. Since I opened my big mouth and asked."

Jordan didn't reply.

"We don't—Sonny warned me—I just—" I looked to Maggie. "It's my fault. I'm sorry," I told her.

"It's not a big deal. Hearing those words just breaks my heart, because I not only fear, but it makes me think of other babies who are born with those things," she said, totally fine now. "It's so sad...like those ASPCA commercials." Sonny warned me about that, too...to change the channel whenever Sarah McLachlan comes on.

I sat back, hoping the Advil would do its job when there was a knock.

"I'll get it." Maggie made to get up, and seeing her with a gun isn't something I'm used to. Sometimes Sonny makes her carry one in her purse, but Maggie makes believe it's not there.

Reaching the door, she inquired as to who was there, and then she opened it when the guy confirmed it was room service.

However, while Maggie opened the door, she pressed the gun to it—holding it there and out of the guy's line of sight—like she could shoot him and he'd never see it coming.

I thought that was so fucking cool.

When the dude rolled the cart in, Maggie stayed by the door. "Kylie…Dame left cash on the table."

Jordan handed me the money, and then I tipped the guy—keeping my eyes on Maggie's crazy ass while I also signed the bill.

Then I watched as Maggie closed the door behind him—the gun still pressed against it.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" I shouted.

She grinned, placing it down next to the TV. "I see your brother do it all the time, and I get it."

"But would you actually shoot someone?" Jordan _actually_ looked mortified.

Maggie's expression was pensive while she thought about that. "Better to have killed than be killed."

I nodded, because she sounded—not only like Sonny—but my father as well. "If you think you're in danger, it's better to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Seriously?" Jordan asked.

Maggie and I looked at each other. "Yeah," we said in unison.

"Just . . . _shoot_ someone?" Jordan shrugged.

"It's silenced…" Maggie whispered. "We wouldn't get caught, although I have no idea how to get rid of a body...Probably…put him in the bathtub until Dame came back?" She quirked a brow, smirking.

I cracked up because I knew she was kidding, but Jordan didn't. "I'd help you bury it," I told her.

"Here's an arm—no, it's a wing!" Maggie giggled, uncovering all the breakfast dishes. "What do you like, the leg or the wing?"

"_Goodfellas_!" I shouted.

Jordan didn't say anything. She just stared at us and walked to the sliding door. "I'll be outside."

"Hey…" I didn't know what to say. "Oh, you can't—shouldn't go out there until Dame comes back. Nothing'll happen to you, but Dame will get pissed."

Jordan turned to have a seat again while Maggie started setting the table. My sister-in-law's truly a momma bear that way, has to take care of everyone.

"You probably think we're crazy," Maggie said to her. "I mean, sometimes being so…having your guard up can seem silly, so we goof around. It makes light of how serious it can all be sometimes." She stopped what she was doing to face Jordan. "I can't explain what you're feeling, Jordan, but…please know that _I_ felt the same way...in the beginning. It's weird and different, worrying about invisible threats you'd never think about before…But you're safe. None of us will ever let anything happen to you. You…just have to trust Damion." My sister-in-law sounded very sincere, yet it didn't placate Jordan—her face was kind of vacant. "Um . . . Hey, did you see this?" After that explanation, Maggie showed off her sonogram picture.

"Oh, how cute...in a few months, you'll be able to know the sex." Jordan finally smiled. "Do you guys want to know?"

Maggie nodded. "Definitely."

"I would, too," Jordan sighed, handing the picture back while her smile faded.

I knew—deep down—that her mind was running away from her, and I wished it wouldn't.

In fact, I wished she and Dame were engaged or closer in some way.

Jordan was an outsider.

While I wanted her to feel welcome, she wasn't a member of the club.

And I didn't like this…feeling exposed like this.

Her possibly passing judgment on us, thinking she might leave Dame after this weekend, scared she might see too much.

I liked her a lot.

Damion has been so much better since they got together. She makes him happy, but still…

My stomach was in knots.

On any other day, I'd agree with her—that we're crazy, nutjobs with guns or something.

But I felt protective of my family and our way of life.

_What if she can't accept us?_

_What if she decides to leave my brother?_

I knew in my heart that Dame would follow her anywhere, and then she'd have taken him away from us.

I didn't like that, and that fact made me like her less…although it wouldn't be Jordan's fault if Damion left.

And while I thought of that, I also wondered what was so special about Jordan, how she got her claws into Dame. Yeah, she's pretty and stacked, but she seemed bland—personality-wise—in comparison to my brother.

Maybe she's shy…only shines for Dame when no one else is watching . . . I could see that.

Damion's also quiet and shy, but he's got that same quality that Dad does—and Sonny has it, too. All three of them demand attention whenever they enter a room, whether they make their presence known or not…It's as if they're larger than life entities?

Nevertheless, he's head-over-heels, and I'm happy for him…Dame is tamer. He's not as malicious and cold-hearted as he was for a little while there. He's changed; he's more like how he used to be—before Amelia, before he started acting out—like when he was with Julie only happier? And I knew Jordan had a lot to do with it, but while he was with Julie, he was still a very active member of our family.

He'd...be there for us, around more often.

So,_ she's_ the reason why Dame's been distancing himself from us and our way of life…

My brother has always gone against the grain and had his own things going. But now...?

Just like Jordan looks at us a certain way, I'm afraid her beliefs might be rubbing off on Dame.

"He ordered without asking what I wanted?" I looked down to what was on my plate. It had a little bit of everything on it just like the rest of them. There were four identical dishes, except for Maggie's, which looked delicious.

"I'll trade you some pancakes for some scrambled," Maggie said.

"Okay." That sounded good and we exchanged food. She coughed up a whole pancake, which was awesome, and I just gave her all of my eggs.

_It feels like an all-carb day anyway. _

"Should we wait for them?" Jordan asked.

"I'm not." Maggie scooped some eggs into her mouth.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's not rude because they won't care."

Jordan didn't reply, and she didn't start eating either. "I'll wait."

Neither Maggie nor I said anything.

Both hungry, we stuffed our fat faces, and the coffee was banging!

"I'm…going to go take a shower," Jordan said.

We nodded, quiet until she disappeared into the bedroom. We exchanged wide-eyed glances, smiling like dumbasses, but neither of us said anything—not until we heard the shower going.

"What do you think?" I whispered.

"I dunno. I've always liked her, and I still do...and she'll be okay...I was." Maggie nodded, taking a bite of pancake. "She's really nice, and it's not like they live in Brooklyn. As soon as they leave...things'll be normal for them again. I dunno." She had a mouthful. "These are so good." Then she smiled wide. "Let Damion try to explain without really explaining."

"Oh, that's gotta be hard," I mused. "Maybe I could—"

"You'd make it worse," Maggie spoke the truth. "And the tension is killing me. Be nice—nicer." She stared at me.

"What tension?" I shook my head.

"You're bitchy...like your tone? Just...please?" she asked.

"I have to watch my tone?" I laughed.

"She really is a nice person, and Damion loves her, and if you make her feel uncomfortable, they might come around even_ less_ than they already do." Maggie had a point. "You know how upset your mom is...with not getting to see Dame." She had to bring up my mother, so of course I was going to agree.

"Yeah…I'll try. But she looks at _us_ like _we're_ crazy—like _we're_ freaks. I don't like it. And what if something happens and she sees something?" I munched on a piece of toast.

"Nothing's going to happen...I mean, I hope not, but then you let Dame explain." She shrugged. "That's not necessarily your problem, and if anything did happen...it'd be in self-defense." She furrowed her brow, and then she started laughing. "The last time I saw Jordan...she wondered why someone as sweet as I am, as young as I am, would be with someone like Santino. She's afraid of him. Santino." She thought that was hilarious, and I did, too.

But Maggie has never looked at my brother the way others do—the way the world does. My eldest brother can be menacing, but all Maggie sees is her fuckhot, gorgeous Santino. "And that was _before_ Santino chased Jordan and Dame to your parents' house like some maniac. God knows what she thinks now." Her eyes widened as she tucked back into her plate.

I was about to respond when I heard the door opening.

Damion and Gio—my sweet and sexy man—entered the room.

"Here." He handed me a bag, taking a seat next to me.

"Thank you." I pecked his lips.

"Where's Jordan?" Dame asked.

"Shower." I pointed.

"Oh…" He joined us, instantly taking his plate to dig in.

"Wait for Jordan," Maggie said.

Dame shrugged. "She won't—"

"She'll care." Maggie nodded. "Then she'll be angry, but not tell you what's wrong because she'll think that her being upset is stupid. But you won't know why either…I speak girl."

"She's right," I agreed with her. "She took a shower because she wouldn't eat without you."

"I'm starving." Damion made a face.

"I bet…after the workout you had." Maggie widened her eyes.

I laughed. "Were they doing it?"

"Yes." Maggie sipped her juice. "The way she was squealing, he must'a been hittin' it_ deep_!" She nudged Dame's arm.

I cackled and gave Maggie a high five. "Awesome."

Gio gave my brother a fist pound. "That's what's up."

"Never mind what I did…" Damion laughed. "You guys are crazy...all nosy and shit." He continued to smile, looking happy and relaxed while taking a piece of toast to go play with his cell phone on the couch.

I sighed, resting my head on Gio's shoulder. "Did you ever rent the jet ski?"

"No…if you're not riding with me, I don't want to." He kissed my hair.

"Gah, I love you." I squeezed him. "We should just be beach bums today."

"Yeah…" They both agreed.

After we finished eating, Damion and Jordan sat down for breakfast, and I bet their shit was cold. Nevertheless, Gio and I got ready for the day and so did Maggie. And the fact that our lovely suite only had one bathroom was crap. It took us all much longer than it normally would.

I helped slather Maggie with sunblock while Gio put tanning oil on me.

"You guys look like apes—all in a line like that, putting shit on each other," Damion laughed. "Like, you're picking lice."

When I was finished with Maggie, I tossed him the sunblock. "There you go, Casper."

He gave me those shifty eyes before leaving the room, but his ass better put that shit on. He'll burn if he doesn't. Damion has Mom's skin, whereas the rest of us—Dad, Sonny, and me—get tan.

I've been in the sun plenty this summer. I had a tan that I hoped would last, but I'm not crazy. My oil has SPF 20, but the scent of the sunblock had me reminiscing.

It smelled similar to that pink bottle my mother used to tote around everywhere—the Water Babies SPF 75, chasing all three of us and making sure we were protected.

That scent represented sunshine and happiness in my mind.

Smelling it—just the smell of it—made me smile.

But I missed Mom something awful.

I'm sure neither of my parents expected something to happen, and I was glad they didn't overreact and rush back to New York.

The fact that they hadn't . . . well, it kind of let me know that things weren't as bad; we had _nothing_ to be scared of.

If there was something to fear, they'd be here in a heartbeat.

That was when I decided to look at this trip like Damion had suggested.

It's just a weekend away—a weekend vacation.

And I hoped Sonny was going to come out tonight.

"You okay?" Gio grabbed my hand.

I nodded, turning to give him a small smile. "Never better." And then I saw that Maggie had put on one of Sonny's big t-shirts to hide her bod, her flip-flopped feet on the bottom. Her stomach isn't even that much bigger than normal. Maggie's maybe gained like ten pounds, not even. "Take that off."

"Why?" She put her shades on.

"You have like…a month, two months until you're big. Show off that body now." I chuckled.

She grimaced. "I never…I mean, I always…I wanna keep the shirt on." But she doesn't when we're home in our own backyards.

"Let her," Gio said. "You should wear one, too."

I was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

He furrowed his brow. "You got your tits all hanging out and shit—you're my girl, man." He was about to get upset, and Gio hardly ever loses his temper.

I looked to Maggie for some backup, but she had nothing to say.

She actually ran out of the room.

I slumped my shoulders. "You don't think I look good?" I bought this bikini last week, although I never wore it by any of our pools. God forbid my dad saw me, or something. He'd chase me around with a towel—that nut. "I'm wearing shorts." Which ruined my whole look, but I do have my period.

"You got side boob!" He pointed. "I don't want other dudes seeing that—they're _my_ boobs!"

I smiled. "It's supposed to be like this...'Cause it's triangular and has strings." I put my chest out, showing him the beautiful, intricate design.

He put his hands up. "I don't wanna fight with you, but—"

"But what?" I knew I was pushing his buttons.

He groaned. "Just—fuckin' wear something!" Gio shouted, grabbing a t-shirt to slam it into my hands.

"What the hell's going on?" Dame poked his head in. "Let's go already."

I wasn't putting the shirt on, and I dropped the one I had in my hands onto the floor.

Gio stared at me.

"What the hell is that?" Damion pointed. He could see me now that Maggie wasn't blocking me. "Ugh." He scoffed, covering his eyes. "I'm blind!"

"Thank you," Gio said.

"No way!" I spat.

"That thing's only covering your nipples—" Damion turned from me. "I can't look at you."

I pouted, thinking they were both asses at this point. "I hate you both! Get out!"

"Wear it." Gio nodded, coming toward me. "And watch what happens to the dude who looks at you—"

"What?" I asked.

Damion barked out a laugh and left the room.

"What's that supposed to mean?" It sounded like a threat.

Gio didn't say anything, and it was his turn to leave the room.

I scoffed at his retreating form.

He never walks away from me.

"You okay?" Maggie was back.

"Thanks for all the support," I snorted when I actually felt like crying.

Gio never walks away from me.

We never fight, and over something as stupid as my bathing suit?

"Come on…it's hot," Maggie said.

"What is?" I whispered.

"The possessiveness? It also shows he cares. I heard what he said . . . Now, you can either wear this bikini, and then watch as Gio knocks some guy's lights out. Or…you can put a tank top on, do him a favor, because he did _you_ a favor by going out and getting you tampons." She sat on the bed.

I pursed my lips, knowing she had a point.

"Santino gets the same way…especially now that everything's tight. We're married, so I kind of don't have a choice—"

"Ugh!" I shouted at the ceiling. "You do—it's your body, Maggie. Christ! Just because you got married…doesn't mean you stopped being an individual. Sometimes you have great advice, and other times…it's 'Santino this' and 'Santino that.'" I sucked in a large breath because I wasn't finished. "Think for yourself, woman! You're sending feminism back a hundred years! You shouldn't even be allowed to vote!" I felt so much better after that rant.

"Fuck you," Maggie said, and she was so calm, it made me chuckle. "I respect my husband's wishes, and I don't want to see him upset. _I _know_ how_ to keep Santino on his toes, but it's stupid to fight over clothes!" She nearly shouted. "Plus, I also know that my husband wouldn't stop at one punch. He's nuts, and I love him crazy…God, do I love him crazy," she sighed, holding her chest while she belched. "I have heartburn."

I rolled my eyes and went in search for a top that matched my suit—all for the guy who bought me tampons.

But nothing mattered when I got on to the beach. The sun was out and so were other people. Besides taking the sun, relaxing under it, I also stared around, wondering what all their stories were.

There were two guys nearby on one blanket, but they didn't look at us once, so I guessed they were gay—maybe on their honeymoon.

There was a family with two little kids. They kept running up to the water and then running away when they thought the waves would catch them.

There were a group of girls taking the sun—like three of them—not too far away. The redhead kept checking out my brother, but Jordan's nose has been in a book since we got here, so I doubt she noticed.

Damion was quiet, just watched the water.

And Maggie was burying Gio in the sand. I was supposed to help, but I haven't said a word since we got out here. I wanted to help so badly, maybe make a sand castle afterward…

"Need help?" I asked Maggie.

She looked bored, pushing sand because we had no little shovels. "This wasn't as much fun as I thought it'd be," she admitted, sitting on her calves before crawling back onto the sheet.

"Ugh…" I pushed the sand she got on my feet away.

Then that crap flew everywhere when Gio hopped up. "You still mad at me?" He puckered his lips to kiss my cheek.

I smiled but composed myself when he faced me. "Yeah."

"Stop." He tickled my side.

"Can you stop reading?" Damion snapped, startling me.

Jordan closed the book and put it down. "I don't find the waves as fascinating as you do."

He laughed, turning away to hold his forehead. "I thought—forget it. You can't just relax?" Damion was crooning now, massaging her hand.

Jordan grinned. "I am relaxed…I like to read," she whispered, but everyone still heard her.

"Why don't you guys…" I trailed off, thinking they could sneak back into the room for an afternoon quickie.

"We have to stay together," my brother said. "I'm sorry. Read," he told her.

"Why don't we do something?" I asked. "Actually go somewhere?"

Damion shook his head, no doubt thinking it was bad a idea.

"I could go for a nap." Maggie yawned.

"You people are boring!" I nearly shouted. "We had more fun yesterday, and we didn't even do anything."

"Probably because I wasn't here," Jordan said.

"Dude…" I was shocked. "That's so_ not_ what I meant."

"But…I thought you might be thinking that," she admitted. "It's all right—"

"I wasn't thinking that," I defended, because I wasn't. "We just…had _more_ fun yesterday."

Maggie pinched me, which was a silent indicator that I be nice, but I wasn't being mean. Jordan said something, and I defended myself. Sue me.

My brother stared at me, his gaze cold. "It was just as boring yesterday, but the novelty of the beach was new—exciting, which is why you weren't bored. Maybe _you _had more fun yesterday..." Damion said.

I frowned, and that really, really hurt. "You didn't? Like, at all?" Maybe there was some truth to what Jordan said since Damion acted so different today. Yesterday, I was able to hang out with my brother. We talked and laughed and just spent time together as a group. Meanwhile, we now seem coupled off, and_ I_ had the problem with it while Maggie didn't seem to care. I don't know.

Dame shrugged, turning to squeeze Jordan's leg.

"Fuck all this…I'm going to take a nap." Maggie left the sheet.

"I'll walk you back." Dame stood up, too.

"I can take her," Gio offered.

"Nah, it's cool." Dame waved him down, and then ushered Maggie back to the room.

And Jordan did not like them walking off together, craning her neck to see them with this dumbfounded look on her face, fire in her eyes.

It made me giggle. "He'll be right back."

She quirked a brow, looking down to her book.

"You're here to relax. Put the book down. When Dame comes back…go swimming. He _only_ wants to spend time with _you_." I shrugged, and maybe my claws were out just a little bit, but...Whatever.

"We all left the room," Gio said. "He's gotta go back with her to make sure it's still empty. Get it?" he asked Jordan. "It ain't like that."

"What he said." I pointed to my boyfriend. "Plus, none of us should be walking alone anywhere—no matter where." I leaned on my elbows.

"I understand," Jordan said.

"Dame's leash must be shorter than I thought." Gio started laughing. "I'm just saying," he defended. "And why's Maggie so damn tired?"

"She doesn't sleep," I said. "For whatever reason, she can't—so_ she_ says, but I've seen her snoring away many times. I dunno. It's probably some weird pregnancy thing."

"Yup." Jordan supplied. "She should get back to normal soon. Things go up and down and around in the beginning."

I nodded, gazing out to the water. "We should do something. Let's get booze."

"I can agree with that." Gio kissed my cheek.

I gasped. "Booze and cards. Uno cards!"

"Uno is fun." Jordan smiled.

"So is booze…" I trailed off. "It'll be different once Sonny gets here, and then you'll _have to_ talk to Maggie and me." I grinned at Jordan. "You won't be able to pry Dame away from Sonny…Well, sex might work." My gaze landed on her humongous breasts. "Either way, it'll turn into boys and girls and that whole mess."

"Are you under the impression I dislike you?" Jordan asked.

"Or…find me and Maggie annoying." My tone was condescending, and there was no one around to pinch me.

Then Gio clamped a hand down on my shoulder—to massage it vigorously. I shrugged away. "Knock it off," he whispered through gritted teeth and squeezed my thigh this time.

I sighed, staring out to the water.

"Kylie…I think…I don't know." She chuckled. "I can't help but feel _you_ don't like _me_." She pointed to herself.

Gio nudged me, which wasn't very subtle.

"I like you," I said, cracking a grin. "You're nice and sweet, and you're good for my brother, and we should get along." The only thing I dislike about my brother falling in love is that—for him—everything else, _everyone_ else, falls away. Sonny's not like that. I mean, Maggie comes first, but he can chill out and be social.

"Brought us back some beers," Dame announced, handing them out while he had his own liquor bottle tucked under his arm.

I took the beer, wondering what Jordan will make of that—the Jack.

**/=/=/=/=/**

**Sonny**

**/=/=/=/=/**

Hating my crib while it's empty, I made quick work of showering and getting dressed.

We switched it up—weren't going to hold the sit-down at Twilight.

Instead, we're to have dinner at this dive down on Canal Street. It's near La Bella Italia, and it has some of the best Chinese food in the city.

Luke and Mike were to do everything they could to shake any possible to tails—so they don't bring more Feds into the city. Regardless, mafiosi were having meetings everywhere to distract them, and Carlisle confirmed that they'd have their hands full. Also, our meeting was a secret—supposed to be kept secret. Everyone knew I was to intervene, but not where or how.

It was to be kept under wraps.

Not that any of that mattered.

To anybody else, we'll look like three dudes having a meal.

"You almost ready?" Grandpa asked. "Your uncle's downstairs."

I nodded, pushing my hair back.

"You wearing a vest?" He stared at me. "If not, you should." My grandfather's been trying to psych me out all day, and he wouldn't fucking leave. Even if he was here, my house still seemed empty. "I'm serious. Your father would." Little did he know, Kevlar already covered me.

"I'll be down in a second."

He finally stopped loitering around my bedroom. Thank God.

I wasn't truly worried about a thing.

The idea is to let Luke and Mike talk—air their shit once and for all—and then come to a compromise. The only thing I worried about was Luke mentioning the stolen goods that Philly had supposedly taken—what turned their conflict into an all-out war.

If it's spoken about…If either one has the suspicion that we did it, I'd have to think fast.

One, I'd deny it.

Two, if they don't take my word, I'll find it disrespectful, and then we'd be in it.

But having those two in such close quarters, I'd take them both out.

I had people in place just in case such a complication arose.

I had people in place for just about every outcome, so I was confident everything would work out.

Before I left our bedroom, I sat down and called Maggie.

She picked up on the first ring. _"Hello?"_

"Hey." I smiled, just hearing her voice, but… "You sound tired."

She giggled. _"I miss your knee in my back."_

I laughed. "Right…but tell me…how's everything? What are you up to?"

_"Nothing much,_" she sighed. _"We're here—all in the suite, getting along,"_ she said that as if they might not be.

"What's wrong?" I asked, amused.

_"I don't know…there's just…hostility? Tension?"_ she asked. _"But the food here is fantastic!"_

"You're so cute." I chuckled. "I'm hoping I get to see you tonight."

_"Me too. I'm missing you like crazy." _

Suddenly, my uncle appeared in the doorway.

I put my finger up to stall him. "I have to go. I love you."

_"Wait!"_ She rushed out. _"What—"_

"I'll call you back in a little bit," I said.

_"Okay."_ I could tell she was pouting. _"I love you, too."_

I ended the call to quirk a brow. "What's up?"

Carlisle let out a groan, coming over to join me. "We have a problem."

I rolled my eyes. "What now?"

He shook his head. "Mike…" My uncle seemed at a loss for words. "He's not coming."

"Why?" I asked. "He said he would."

Carlisle raised a brow. "Well, all I said was that we'd conduct a meeting. He, of course, assumed he'd be meeting with your father—"

"He won't talk to me," I laughed. "I…I don't know what to make of that, and let me guess. Luke's already on his way?"

Carlisle nodded.

"So, now what?" I honestly didn't know what my next step should be. Logically, we should just…I had no clue. Reschedule? However, his not wanting to sit with me was a sign of disrespect. He fucking dissed me.

And if I let him get away with it . . .

_What would that say about me?_

"I can't not show up." If Luke was still set to be there, I couldn't waste his time and not go either. "But it's understandable—sort of, although stupid." I shook my head.

"Mike said he'd send his second to come and talk to youse—to which, I told him not to bother." Carlisle shrugged. "He sensed that I wasn't happy, and he's been trying to call me since." He started laughing. "He's called me over ten times. But…your next step, Sonny, it's _your_ next step." He patted my back. "Understand?"

"Can you gimme a sec?" I asked. "I'll be right down."

"All right." He left my bedroom.

I waited until I heard him descend the stairs before I called my father. I hoped he'd pick up since I used a whole new prepaid; he won't recognize the number.

_"Hello?"_

"It's me," I said. "The Liberty Bell won't come to me."

_"Well, you're not going to the Liberty Bell,"_ he laughed.

I laughed, too. "What do I do?" As much as I hated to ask for help, I needed it, completely fucking torn, and I hoped he didn't see it as a sign of weakness.

_"Respect—their loyalty—it's all you have. I know what I'd do, and you know—as much as I wished it weren't so, because I can't stand that fuck—where our own loyalties lie."_

"Go there, talk to who's there, and we're in this?" I asked.

_"But now Liberty knows where youse'll be. Change location,"_ he said grimly.

"Figured that." I nodded.

_"Look, that's a hop, skip, and a jump for us. There'd be no battlefields on our lands."_

"Send a group for L to use at his disposal?" I asked.

_"Lend a helping hand…"_ He trailed off. _"Yeah, but what's your prize?"_ His mind is always on money, and I can't fault him for it. _"See what he's offering. If not, hey, you can make an example, and I bet the next Bell will come to you,"_ he cackled, but he wasn't giving me answers—just more choices.

But I knew what I was going to do. "Thanks."

_"You're welcome."_ He ended the call.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I let my bedroom and ran down the stairs.

"You_ didn't_ fuck her? What's wrong with you?" Grandpa shouted at Carlisle. "Who are you?_ I_ would have. Amelia Drasso's turned into a hot piece of ass."

My uncle wouldn't even dignify him with an answer; I know I wouldn't.

"We ready?" I asked.

"I'll drive. Vito's gonna follow." Grandpa left ahead of me.

"Tell Luke to go to La Bella Italia instead," I told my uncle, and he was fast to get on his cell.

During the ride into Manhattan, my mind ran away from me. But while I had many things on the brain, one thing stuck out from the rest. I hoped I could handle this shit and hit the road—so I could meet up with my wife and siblings. While I'm the happiest I've ever been lately, the past few months have been hectic with me working all the time. I couldn't wait to just chill on the beach with my wife...not have to worry about keeping a schedule or anything.

And I meant what I told my brother. I mean, I hope I get to spend some time with him. Though, Dame could do whatever he wanted once I got out there, and I saw no harm in the rest of us staying until Tuesday.

Wise guys littered Mulberry Street like they usually do, but I only caught sight of two New Jersey soldiers. They stood outside La Bella Italia, and that's when I knew Luke had beat me there.

The restaurant itself was kind of empty, save for all my people who must have scrambled to get here. Those who were supposed to be here already were.

"Aro called—said the Feds are circling Midnight Sun, like there's about to be bust, so we gotta move quick."

"No one's doing anything," I said, knowing everyone was to just convene, not conduct any business.

"There won't be a bust. I'm just saying. Talk, have a drink, and be ghost before they realize we're here and disband—come over this way."

I nodded as I walked farther into the dining room.

Luke sat at a table set for six, his guy Giuseppe at the bar.

"How you doin'?" I shook his hand.

"Can't complain." Luke kissed my cheeks. "Where's the Skip?"

"Vacation." I smiled, having a seat, and then I snapped my fingers for a drink.

"Changing locations like that…so sudden." Luke raised a brow. "What's that about?"

"Your friend isn't coming," I said.

"Really?" That made Luke smile wide. "Why not?"

"He'd rather eat with my father. Did you know I'd be here?" I was curious.

"I did…" He sat back in his chair. "I'll be honest—and it has _nothing_ to do with you—but I don't feel too comfortable. This place has amazing food, you know? But it's hot." He loosened his tie, and I couldn't remember the last time I saw a wise guy wear one.

"I know that," I admitted. "So, we should get down to brass tacks…Thank you," I told the waitress, quick to sip my scotch.

Luke widened his arms. "But do you see the kind of prick that douche is? To practically stand you up?"

I knew he was provoking me, and yet I maintained my smile.

"Is your pops really stepping down?" Luke whispered.

"No," I said. "He's on vacation, but I'm curious as to why you never reached out to him? To resolve this sooner?"

He shrugged. "To be honest, I felt like a dick after all that shit had gone down. Also, we've been holding our own." He was jovial, proud of himself.

Curious, I asked, "How's Amelia doing?"

That made his smile disappear, and I knew it would. "She's good."

"She tells a different story," I said. "Came here asking for help."

Luke had fire in his eyes, and I didn't know which to believe. He was either holding his own against Philly, or losing so terribly—like Amelia told my uncle—that Mike was getting closer and closer to whacking him.

From what I've heard—from a difference source, my boy Adriano—is that they're doing okay.

While they've had no major victories, they haven't had any mass casualties either. Philly's taken bigger hits as of late.

But these days, a war between families isn't necessarily about violence.

It's all about the money—who stole what from whom, and so on—but people do die.

"I'd rather not discuss my daughter. She made her choices, wanted to leave Jersey, so what she should care?" he asked.

I didn't reply because saying less is more in these situations.

"But I promise she won't contact you again."

I nodded. "You're holding your own, like you've said."

"And that fuck skipped out on us." Luke stared at me. "So, what do you wanna do?"

"Oh, I have no doubt in my mind," I laughed. "In the near future, he'll reach out to you…and problems withstanding, you're going to squash it."

"I am?" Luke asked.

I nodded. "He'll know we've met, he'll call off his hounds if you do, and you will because we want him comfortable. And when that happens, I want you to bring me his head." I kept my tone low. "You have agreements with my father, which have been nullified due to past beefs. I'd reinstate them, and if you need anything else, you know my number."

Basically, if he needs help, he can call, and we will help. This will keep us out of their conflict for the time being, but I gave him my blessing to clip Mike—we were unofficially in it now.

"Unless…Mike wants to make his absence up to me. Regardless, you and I have the same agenda, I'm guessing." I found this to be comical.

Luke smiled around the rim of his glass as he sipped his drink. "I feel you. It all sounds wonderful. My knights and bishops are getting closer and closer to the king. Unfortunately, once he knows that we've met here, he might hand in his resignation, try to talk you into joining the game, youse tag team me."

"My word's no good?" I asked, staring at him.

He showed me his palms. "Sonny—"

"Santino," I corrected him.

"Buddy—" he squeezed my hand, and I stared at his until he removed his paw "—all I'm saying is...Look...I mean, of course I trust you. It's—" he was stammering and squirming where he sat.

Even if I got a kick outta that, you attract more bees with honey. I shook my head, letting go of any annoyance. "He won't…Mike has nothing I want. He never had _anything_ I wanted, but he dissed me." I chuckled. "My objective was to come here and develop a standing truce between all three of us—putting our past qualms to bed along with your problems with Philly."

"I hear you, and thank you," he sighed. "I'm glad to be back on your father's good side, though." He winced.

"Well, I can't truly speak on my father's behalf." I couldn't let Luke lose sight of the fear he has for the Skip. "Call if you need anything, and if you're feeling creative, bring Mike to me alive."

Luke laughed, sticking his hand out to shake mine. "Great doing business with you."

"Likewise." I stood up and watched as Luke left the restaurant.

At that same moment, my uncle left the bar to join me. Carlisle and I stayed silent until we walked through the kitchen and out the back door. My grandfather was waiting for us in his whip.

"So, what happened?" Carlisle asked. "If I'd have sat down, that ass Giuseppe would have joined us—"

"I'm setting an example," I said.

"Knew you would," he mumbled. "We're in this now."

"Nope." I smiled. "Not yet. He's holding his own—he's content to keep doing so. He needs anything, he'll call. But for the luxury to do so, he's going to take care of Mike for me."

Carlisle started cracking up. "We're basically where we started. Not in this but waiting…"

"What would you have done?" I asked. "Scratch that. What do you think my father would have done?"

"Nobody disses the Skip unless they have a death wish, but your father also has a terrible temper. He'd want Mike's head, but he would have gone for it himself—causing madness, mayhem, and casualties across the board while we all stomped around the Garden State." Carlisle blew out a breath. "It's happened before...Christ. I feel I'm too old for that now. Maybe all that shit is still what keeps my brother young in a way..." he mused.

"This way—_my way_—Luke's working for me instead of against, only because he thinks we have his back…If you don't know what to do…do nothing." That last bit was actually something my mother's told me a time or two.

"I agree," Carlisle said.

I shrugged. "They're still gonna continue to pick each other off—one by one—in this process, though. Unless . . . Mike reaches out to Luke, knowing he's beat because he can't stand up to both of us alone. I'm banking on _that_. They'll come to their own truce, and then Luke'll still take him out. There are plenty of ways this can play out, but in all of them…we still come out on top. And no one will cancel because I'm not my father again."

"It's smart." Carlisle nodded. "But whacking a boss, though?" He didn't sound too happy about that. "It's unavoidable, and that fuck is still calling my phone. I gotta throw it out." He looked down to his prepaid. "Your father will be pleased. He didn't wanna get involved either…which might also be why he wanted you to handle this. Some promise he made to your mother."

"Yeah…I know I don't wanna do anything to disrupt our lives. Also, we get into this shit…" I stuck my tongue out. "It's not worth it. Either way, like I said, it's done. They're done, so we resolved matters without Mike, and _he's_ gonna be the one to make the call," I laughed.

"It's smart," Carlisle repeated himself. "More like…a scare tactic; meanwhile, you ain't doin' shit." He cracked up.

"He'll have his eyes open—all paranoid and shit. But it's going to force his hand. He's a fool if he doesn't squash shit with Luke. And Luke's happy because he's not the one backing down…" I stopped talking when my uncle's phone rang. "It's that fuck?"

"Nah, it's your dad." He brought the phone to his ear. "What's up…? Yeah, we're heading back already . . . Your son's a genius."

I tried not to smile, hearing that, and I stared out the window.

"He played 'em both. There's going to be peace across the land…" My uncle sounded wistful. "Here." He handed me the phone.

"Yeah?" I asked.

_"You pulled that outta your ass, didn't you?"_ Dad laughed.

I didn't reply, wouldn't admit that.

_"Well, improvisation is your friend…and you made the right call, but…an example will still be made?"_ He sounded excited.

"Of course, but not by my hand. And when all this is over, you'll not only have Luke by the balls again, but you'll have whoever's that stands up in Philly, too." If events unfold the way they're meant to, that triple truce will be forced upon us all.

_"No,"_ he disagreed. _"You will."_

I was speechless, but I bounced back fast. "You don't mean that." The thought was still unbelievable.

_"In the future? Sure, you will."_ That sounded more like it. Believe it or not, I was relieved hearing that. "_You did good, kid. I'll see you soon."_ And he ended the call.

"I have a feeling your father's going to be the Michael Jordan of this thing—retire, come back, retire, come back—" Carlisle was in such a good mood. "I'm glad all this is settled. You wanna have a drink somewhere?"

"No," I said. "I'mma meet up with Maggie and them. Anything comes up, I'll come home."

"All right."

"Wanna come out?" I asked. "Grab Ant, and the three of us'll shoot out there?" In a good mood myself, I squeezed his shoulder. "With your family away—"

Carlisle barked out a laugh. "I have twin toddlers…adult children that still live at home, and my house is empty at the moment. I'm goin' home!"

I smiled. "Oh, you're not gonna hit up Eclipse? It's Saturday night." Usually, he'll chill there for a couple of hours just to be there, but my father's normally with him—Aro, too.

"Fuck all that…" He grumbled. "I'mma be real with you—real honest. You've been married for like ten seconds. Soon—before you know it—you'll have a bunch of kids…There's screamin', shoutin'…people in the way. You're young. You'll love it for the first…ten years. Now?" He looked to me. "I wanna go home, drink a few beers in my underwear, and maybe yank on my dick in the privacy of my own living room . . . Pop a porn into the Blu-ray. Eat some bacon without my wife making a face and commenting about my cholesterol…"

I laughed my ass off. "That…sounds so fucking sad." I was honest.

"Only thing better…" He trailed off. "I wish Alex was home. We'd watch a porn together, and I'd get to eat her."

"Yo..." I felt he'd said enough.

But he kept going. "Liking the quiet doesn't make me a bad person. I raised Hanna, Carli, Anthony, and then Li'l Eddie. I thought we were done, and while I love Ron and Blaze to death, and they complete us as a family…I essentially work two jobs between counselling your father, being on top of_ all_ family matters, and then the law firm?" He grimaced, pushing his hair back. "By the time I get home, my family's day is just winding down…but Alex gives me those I'm-about-to-go-nuts eyes, and then I'll do baths, trying to calm the twins, put them to bed while my wife is still running ragged with other things. All while _also_ hoping she won't be too tired, gimme some pussy," he sighed again. "Then there's weekends, and there's never a quiet moment. There's always drama. And your adult cousins won't leave the nest—"

"You made it too comfortable!" Grandpa shouted. "I know I was a dick—which pushed you out my crib real quick."

Carlisle jerked a thumb to the front seat. "This motherfucker…"

I chuckled, shaking my head.

"I liked you better when you were a whore," Grandpa told him. "Edward got married; he didn't lose his balls. You…? And you?" He eyeballed me in the rear view.

"Getting married didn't change me…not business-wise," I said.

"Eh…you're right." He shrugged. "You're a lot like your pops in that respect, but you…?" He sat up straight to grill Carlisle in the mirror. "When was the last time you saw action anywhere?"

"You're such a mean old fuck. Keep drivin'," Carlisle spat. "There's enough action in my bedroom. Trust. We do make time for that." He slapped his hand to mine. "You're just bitter because you gotta pay broads to fuck your old ass."

"Oh…" I couldn't imagine speaking to my father like that; he'd kill me.

"Alex got some nice titties, though. No wonder Dame tried to get between 'em." Grandpa nodded.

I winced when Carlisle punched the back of his seat. "Take it easy." I patted his forearm, but my uncle was fuming.

"Why are you baiting me?" Carlisle shouted.

Grandpa slumped his shoulders. "Come to Eclipse with me."

"No!" my uncle snapped.

I laughed as Grandpa got into the left lane to enter the Battery Tunnel, heading to Brooklyn.

"Maybe Ant'll wanna hang with me," Grandpa spoke to himself. "Yeah, I'll get him some cooz. Maybe that'll snap him outta that phase—"

"It's not a phase, Dad," Carlisle groaned, slumping lower in the seat. "Do not call Anthony. Leave him alone."

"I'll call around—find a chick with a dick. A compromise?" Grandpa gave us a fleeting glance.

A chuckle escaped me, and Carlisle punched my bicep. "Don't humor him," he said.

Sighing, I leaned into the front seat. "You're crossing a line, Gramp. Seriously."

"Fuck you." He nudged me with his elbow.

"Fuck me?" I laughed; meanwhile, he hit a nerve. "Watch yourself, old man."

"Old man." He scoffed. "So fucking sensitive. I didn't raise _you_ that way, and Ed didn't raise _you_ that way…But youse two are more fun than Ant and Dame. Now, those two…?"

"Enough!" Carlisle was about to lose his shit.

"Sorry," Grandpa whispered.

"Look, you wanna come home with me? We'll have a few beers, relax—Dad, that's cool, but stop your shit." Carlisle massaged his forehead.

"All right," Grandpa agreed, and he remained silent for the rest of the ride.

**/=/=/=/=/**

The drive out to Montauk was long. I was able to head out a lot earlier than I thought, but the roads were empty, and the highway seemed like it'd go on forever, and I was antsy to be there already.

I sped the entire way, and I pulled into the parking lot at a quarter to ten, which was still early.

When I entered the hotel, I checked in, got my room key.

There was no way Maggie and I were sharing that suite with everyone else.

We need our privacy, but I had to go get her first.

I knocked, although I know I should have called. "Yo…"

"Sonny?" Damion asked, whipping the door open. "Thank God." He tackle-hugged me, and I laughed.

"Bro, what'd you think was gonna happen?" I asked.

"I had no idea because you can't pick up a phone and call a fucker." Now he sounded pissed.

"Eh, well . . ." I entered the room, and it was a fucking disaster. Shit was just everywhere, like none of them could clean up after themselves. "What'd a bomb go off?"

"I know, right?" Dame chuckled. "The kiddos aren't the neatest . . ."

I knew it was him, too. "Where's Maggie?"

"In the room sleeping." He pointed behind himself, and that's when I saw Jordan.

"What's up?" I asked.

She waved, her cheeks flushing scarlet.

"Having fun?" I tried to engage her in conversation. She never talks to me, and Maggie says it's because Jordan fears me, which is stupid. It'd be nice—getting along with my brother again—if we could _all_ be friends, if we could all chill together. Especially since I have the feeling she'll be my sister in the future.

Jordan nodded, her eyes falling down to her book again.

"Do you like the beach?" That was my last attempt, for this evening anyway.

Dame stared back to his girlfriend, furrowing his brow. "What's wrong?"

Jordan smiled, sitting up higher in her chair. "I'm great—the beach is wonderful."

"Very cool," I said, looking around the room. "Where's Kylie and Peto?" They were nowhere to be found.

"In the other room…doing…each other." Dame shrugged, sitting on the couch.

Curious, I tried to hear if they were fucking, and I heard nothing. But those two are too used to sneaking around.

"Apparently, all of us being separated was the only compromise…I don't know what Kylie's problem is," he whispered.

"Maggie and Kylie were fighting?" I asked.

He slowly shook his head no.

"All right. Lemme get my wife, and then we'll be outta your way—" I turned for the room, but he stopped me.

"Sit…chill a second," Dame said.

I blew out a large breath. "Uh, sure." Honestly, I was tired, and I just wanted to relax with Maggie. But Dame wanted me to hang, and he did me a huge solid this weekend . . . "Is there anything to drink?" I went to take off my jacket.

"No, go…I get it." He waved a hand. "But we're all chillin' tomorrow, right? The beach is in-fucking-sane."

"Definitely." I slapped my hand to his before I went for the bedroom.

Maggie wasn't sleeping but sitting up in bed watching TV. "Santino!" She almost fell out of the bed, got caught in the sheets.

"I'm here." I got to her before she could fall. "I told you I'd be here."

She hugged me tight. "Oh, now I can finally get some sleep."

I smiled, rubbing her back. "Where's all your stuff?"

"Oh…everything's everywhere. Most of my stuff is in the other bedroom. Kylie and I were supposed to share, but…blah." She tightened her hold. "I'm already in PJs…I'll get my stuff in the morning."

"All right." I could agree to that.

"We'll just take Noah."

I nodded, helping her out of bed. "I missed you like crazy."

"You have no idea." She squeezed me again, which made me feel amazingly happy, and I also felt lucky—to be loved the way she loves me. Sometimes, I believe I might love her more. Even so, having Maggie just for me, was still a godsend. "I think Kylie is jealous of Jordan," she whispered.

I honestly didn't care, but on the inside…I kind of hoped Kylie would make Dame miserable…as miserable as he made me. But, no, that'd never happen. Kylie's too much like my mother. She can't hold a grudge. By next week or even tomorrow night, Kylie and Jordan will probably be best friends. "He's…always been her Dame-y Bear."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "It's ridiculous. You have no idea how awkward today was. Nothing was lost to _anyone_, which made Dame pissy," she giggled. "I actually felt bad for Gio and Jordan, the only normal people. I'm how I am right now, and it was like Dame and Kylie were both PMS-ing."

I laughed, lifting her chin to kiss those lips. "You weren't too upset, were you?"

"I was worried and I missed you," she hummed, looking to the floor. "I might have cried just a little." She showed me her thumb and forefinger.

"Just a little...that's okay." I nibbled on her earlobe, trailing kisses down her neck.

She leaned into me. "I was bored, too...Did a lot of emo eating. I stuffed my face, and I didn't puke once. That was awesome."

"Good." I was so happy to hear that she was getting back to normal in that respect. She's able to control her nausea with eating a bunch of very small meals throughout the day. It's weird—she overeats and gets sick, and if she goes too long without eating, she gets sick. "How's the bean?" I bent low to kiss her stomach.

"Whew. You just gave me butterflies again," she giggled.

"Let's go to our room…I'll give you more than butterflies," I promised, palming her ass. "And you might not get that much sleep." Funny how I wasn't tired anymore.

Maggie was even more excited, and she grabbed my hand to start pulling me out. "We can get the dog tomorrow, too—"

She didn't mean that, so before she could get us too far, I grabbed Noah.

"We'll meet up for breakfast?" I asked Dame and then I dropped the dog. "Shit." That little fucker bit my finger. Luckily, he landed on his feet before running to my brother.

"Go!" Dame pointed him out.

"You hold onto him," Maggie said while she opened the door. "Goodnight!"

"Yo...take him." Dame held him out to us.

Maggie only had one thing on her mind.

Following her lead, I winked at my brother before I just closed the door. We truly didn't have far to go. All we had to do was turn, and we were entering our room.

As soon as we were inside, Maggie jumped into my arms, making my back hit the door, slamming it closed. "Impatient?"

"The bed," she mumbled between landing open-mouthed smooches along my neck.

Grinning from ear to ear, I walked to the bed to place Maggie down. Now taking in the decor, I thought we had a nice spot—king-sized bed, large television, a desk, and a chest of drawers. There was also a dining table with two chairs, decorated in various shades of blue and white.

"Slow down," I whispered, palming Maggie's cheeks, making her look at me.

She backed away from me to stand on the bed.

Then I watched as my beautiful wife undressed in front of me. She shimmied out of her sweats, and then lost her t-shirt before taking off her underwear.

Mesmerized, like I often am, I just watched—getting harder by the second.

"Come here," she whispered seductively, crawling toward me.

I walked closer to the bed, where her hands roamed up my chest, and then to my shoulders to push my jacket off.

It landed on the floor behind me, while Maggie started to undo my shirt buttons.

All I could focus on was my sexy as sin wife, who was naked and too close not to gather into my arms. A growl escaped my lips as my hands began to travel along her warm body. "You're beautiful," I whispered.

Her gaze flashed to mine, a coy smile playing at her lips, and her hands came up to finish their task. She'd place a kiss on me whenever she'd pop open a button, going down until her eyes landed on my nine. Slick, she pulled it from my waist to turn the safety on. "Safety first," she giggled, discarding it onto the mattress.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you..." She pushed my shirt away from me also, eyes zeroing on my chest. Then she lifted my undershirt to pepper me with those kisses that drive me insane.

My breathing picked up, while I gently hugged her head close.

She undid my belt and then my pants, letting them drop before she scooted higher on the bed. "Come get me." She turned to pull the covers and sheet back, quick to lean back against the pillows and spread her legs.

Frantic, frenzied and excited myself, I kicked my shoes off with force, doing the same with my slacks and boxers.

"Hurry, or I'll start without you." Her hand ran down her stomach, and then she started to massage her clit.

Now overeager, I leapt onto the bed, yet I was content to watch, as I rubbed up her thighs. "You gettin' it wet for me?"

She hissed, her finger traveling lower to enter. "It's always wet...for you, because of you." The sexy, sloshy noise that sounded from her pussy made her words true. Maggie was soaked as I stroked my cock and watched her finger herself. "'Cause of you." She moaned, pushing her tits out.

My wife knows exactly what to do—to drive me crazy—and my chest felt tight with need. As I eased between her thighs, I said, "Move your hand."

She complied; I fell forward, my palms resting on either side of her head as I thrust into her to groan, my eyes rolling. "Christ, baby—"

Maggie held my shoulders, her legs wrapping around my waist. "Fuck me."

My lust for her, my need for her took up every part of me—my mind, my heart, and my body—and I slammed into her over and over. Maggie squirmed, cries and whimpers of pleasure falling from those lips, and then she began to move with me.

Even if I was down, was content to go at this speed, we had to slow down. We couldn't be so rough, not as rough as we used to be.

Letting out a large breath, I leaned away to look down. "We have all night." My hips stilled.

Maggie's chest was heaving, and she still tried to thrust up into me.

"Baby..." To calm her, my hand lightly ran from her shoulder down to her stomach.

Emotion shined bright her eyes. "We have our whole lives." She swallowed.

I nodded and bent low to place my lips to hers. "Our whole lives."

_**Thank you for reading.**_

_**Please leave me your thoughts.**_

* * *

**Check out my new fic "Higher" **Summer of 1994: Dial-up internet. Pagers. Walkmans. AOL chat rooms. O.J in a white Bronco. And blazingly hot weather in Brooklyn where eighteen-year-old Bella Swan is filling her days making ice cream sundaes before she starts college. But one long night – full of Ecstasy, subway rides, dark dance clubs, and a boy she doesn't want to stay away from – may change everything. E/B. HEA. Drama/Romance/Humor and realism. Close to canon.

s/9254112/1/Higher

Posting Schedule: It's not a drabble but the chaps aren't crazy long. I'm going to try for posting a chapter a day until it's complete - five chapters a week. Since it's the first, and the story is complete, I hope to have it up entirely within the month. Thank you, and I hope you check it out.

Lexi


	50. Halfway

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**We're almost at the end here - only one or two chapters left, folks! **

* * *

**"Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Fifty: Halfway**

**BELLA POV**

_**A**_ large part of me wished we'd gone to Hawaii.

At least then we wouldn't be so close and yet so far away from it all.

We'd be none the wiser, but we _did_ know…

We knew a lot before we went away...before we left Brooklyn.

Edward was confident that they'd all be safe—that everything would work out. He knew things were heading to a breaking point, that decisions needed to be made.

While Edward had the solution, he wanted Sonny to come to his own. He wanted to see how Sonny would handle a situation like this.

I understood my husband. I even agreed with his reasoning, but that doesn't mean I like it—the whole situation.

It puts me on edge, and I have many horrible memories about how things have gone wrong in the past.

But I knew…

Just like Edward knew…

It was time for Sonny to sink or swim, and that's terrible—for me, for a mother—when all you've ever done was throw out lifesavers time after time.

If shit got hairy, we'd be back in Brooklyn within a few hours.

But Sonny couldn't actually step up to the plate if he knew we'd be there to save the day.

He needed to take care of business as if Edward weren't around.

Because…as much as I hate to think about it…

One day, we won't be around.

We—mainly Edward—needed to see how Sonny would fare without us. We needed to see him put his wife and siblings first, and then do what he had to do business-wise.

So far, he's made every decision that Edward would make.

The first thing he did was contact Damion. They're working together instead of against each other, which I knew would happen. Edward swore Damion would stay put, do whatever he could not to disrupt his way of life at school, with Jordan.

But I knew Damion would do whatever it'd take to make sure Kylie and Maggie were safe—for us, himself, and for his brother.

I hoped Jordan would have just left with him…

And despite the fact that she didn't…?

Damion still, he still put his life on hold to be there for Sonny—for us, his family.

I was proud of him.

Edward was proud of him, but there's still so much our middle child doesn't know—doesn't understand.

My husband was absolutely heartbroken when he got off the phone with Damion.

Because of his lack of faith, Damion's lack of trust in his father.

And maybe Edward didn't have enough faith Damion either, thinking he wouldn't help Sonny.

We had a lot of things on our minds, but we did our best to keep each other occupied. Edward and I haven't done much but each other—enjoy our bodies—having sex in every way and every place imaginable in this house.

We've been okay…in a hindsight type of way.

Meanwhile, we're both anxious and waiting for the phone to ring…

According to Edward, Sonny's a "slick motherfucker," a genius. Apparently, he devised a way to stop the war between New Jersey and Philadelphia without Philly's head, and without getting New York involved.

Edward said—had he made the call, had he been dissed by Philly—he would have had Luke's back, and they would have wiped Philly off the map. Then both families could split the spoils and expand.

However, there would be bloodshed.

If Edward had made the call, there's no telling how long Kylie, Damion, Maggie, and I—and everyone else—would have had to hide out.

Lives would have been in danger…

But, with the way Sonny handled it, none of that was going to happen.

He avoided war, avoided losing any soldiers, and it would all benefit them in the long-run—again, business-wise. It will also set a good example, make other families want to side with us.

Edward says that while Sonny's temper rivals his own, our eldest is a better businessman than Edward ever was.

My husband has always had a thirst for power—the need for more.

Sonny is still young in age, feels he has nothing to prove, and he's content with the way things are.

He made the right—the smartest—decision.

Even Edward can't deny that, no matter how differently he would have handled it.

This way, life will go back to normal in an instant.

And Sonny made it so Edward didn't go back on his word.

Pride is a horrible thing to swallow; it has a bitter taste, and Edward—no matter how much he didn't want to—was obligated to have New Jersey's back. It has little to do with Damion and Amelia. It has to do with the treaty that'd been made between them when Luke first came to power.

I'm not sure what will happen in the future.

We're not at war . . . at the moment.

But I don't know what Edward has up his sleeve, or what Sonny might be thinking otherwise.

There are many things that happen behind the scenes—shit that doesn't affect us but will still happen. All of that is confusing and hard to explain.

I think Edward plans to ice Luke…just because.

I think Sonny will have the Philly boss taken out.

There's always someone under the boss who's easier to work with.

Times and circumstances have changed.

Just like Sonny is a better fit to head the Cullen family in the future, there might be others who'd do the same in those other families—people Sonny could work with better.

A new generation…

My husband isn't stupid.

As much as I'd like to think he wants to take a step back to be a family man, be my husband, a grandfather—he knows that his time is coming to an end.

He wants to leave on a good note instead of a bad note, but he also doesn't want to be pushed out—taken out.

Edward always says that history repeats itself, so he's going by the book, making those elemental changes on his own terms.

It's genius.

But I don't think Edward plans to give it all up just yet.

He's still got some miles in him, that ache he tries so hard to ignore.

Truth be told, I'm scared.

I don't know what the future has in store, or how it might change Edward.

It's partly selfish, but I've been married to the Skip for too damn long.

It's the end of an era.

But nothing truly ever comes to an end…

Edward will still be involved. I know he will. He'll still have the fear and respect, the power, he's earned. He'll still be one of the wealthiest men in New York City. He'll still rub noses with politicians and master criminals…

He'll still be my husband, the father of my children, a future doting grandfather, and . . . the Skip.

He'll always be the Skip—the boy who didn't care about a thing, and then suddenly cared too much—my fatty.

The love of my life.

Feeling weepy and yet happy with that conclusion—I mean, nothing's going to change. It'll just be more of the same, which is all I've ever wanted—I sought Edward.

When I left the house, I hugged myself, surprised by the chill in the air. It was just beginning to get dark; the yard illuminated by a kerosene lantern while Edward chopped wood.

The sight made me giggle . . . fucking Edward chopping wood.

"Hey," I said.

He grunted, bringing the ax high to slam it down with a loud thwack! The wooden plank broke in two, falling to the ground. "What?" He had an attitude.

"I think…it might be time for us to go." I threw it out there to see if he'd bite.

It'd only been an hour since he'd spoken to Sonny—confirming the sit-down had concluded. And it'd been an entire day since Edward had spoken to Damion, which he's still pissed about, but there's nothing we can do about while we're here . . .

I knew my husband and Damion had to have another big talk…

I also knew it'd be easier for Edward to get Damion alone, get him to understand while he's away from school and before our middle child has a chance to stew and get broody.

Edward's already broody . . .

And I needed a Kylie hug like never before.

I needed a reassuring smooch on my forehead from Sonny.

I needed to gaze at my sweet boy with the biggest heart—Damion—who hides behind his snark.

I needed to see that damn ultrasound photo, too.

Edward huffed a breath, throwing the ax down. "Yeah…" he agreed without arguing. "Sonny's probably halfway there already—"

"You wanna go all the way out to the Hamptons?" I was surprised but elated at that, as I thought we'd simply wait for them to get home. I didn't even care that it'd probably take us at least eight hours to get there.

"Call that place. See if they got a room next to them." He shrugged, all sweaty and out of breath.

I shook my head of my nasty thoughts. "All right."

"Come here." He grabbed my hand. "I know you're worried—"

"I'm not." I was honest as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I trust you…I trust the decisions you make…Sometimes, I may not agree with them, but I have faith—so much faith…" I looked down, embarrassed by my tears.

"Good." Edward squashed me to him in one of those death-grip embraces that I revel in. "Because…sometimes I'm unsure, but everything I do—every move I make, it's all for the right reasons in my mind. I knew I wouldn't be able to back down—"

"You never have," I whispered. "That's who you are."

"But Sonny's smarter than me. He kept his head, his cool, and if I was there…" He chuckled. "I might not have held that sit-down."

"You would have…it just would have gone differently," I giggled. "I have faith in you. Why can't you have faith in you?" I asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I've done so much shit in my life. Looking back, all I know is I've been lucky. And that lucky streak, it all started when I met you—"

"Edward—" I was already crying, and I know how much he loves me.

"I couldn't have done any of it…without you." He had tears in his eyes. "I know you know this." He tightened his hold, if that was possible.

"Hey." I squirmed to grasp his cheeks. "I know it feels like the end, but…it's just the—well, it's not the beginning—but we're in the middle, and middles are long. It's where all the good stuff happens. It's where we experience the fluff, everyday things. But this isn't the end…even if it might feel like it."

He nodded. "You're right. I can only change so much." Edward rolled his eyes and started laughing while he let me go. "Maybe I'll run a crew again—"

I yanked on his arm. "Wait a few years; coach our grandchild's soccer team!" With getting to know Maggie and already knowing Sonny, if God blesses them with the opportunity, they'll have a league of children. And I also know that Kylie's had that baby itch ever since Maggie announced her pregnancy.

If Kylie and Peto get married young . . .

For years, all I wanted was for my baby girl to have the chance at anything her heart desired. A college education, a career, is what I've always yearned for her to achieve.

But whatever Kylie wants to do…she's going to do it.

As her mother, I only pray that she's happy with whatever she chooses.

Hey, she can do both, and I hope for the best.

At the moment, Damion isn't ready to start a family. He says he doesn't want children, but…

I have a feeling that within the next ten years, our children will make us grandparents a few times over, and I can't wait.

Edward started cracking up. "A soccer team?"

"That's the only crew I want you running."

He sighed, holding my shoulder and running his thumb across my bottom lip. "You got it…boss." He winked.

"Boss." I scoffed.

Edward turned toward the house. "Let's hit the road. You make that reservation." He pointed to me. "And I'll be dammed if we gotta wait 'til three to check-in. Do what you gotta do, so I don't crack a skull. We ain't hiding out no more!" He ranted as he walked.

And all I could do was smile as I watched his retreating form.

"Get in here!" He barked.

I jumped, glanced around myself—to the dense forest that surrounds us—and then I quickly ran to my husband.

He groaned as he gathered me in his arms. "I love you, Bebella." He pushed my hair away from my face. "This face—" he grasped my jaw "—this fucking nose." And then he bit it, nibbling it.

I giggled, falling in love all over again, like I do every day. "I'll go call—" I went to walk away.

He pulled me right back. "Where you think you're goin'?"

I opened my mouth but closed it just as fast.

"I changed my mind. Shower first. Then reservations." He lifted me from the ground and brought me into the bathroom.

I was swept off my feet, like I am so often by this man.

Even with the fast start, Edward took his time undressing me, placing kisses wherever he exposed skin.

All too soon—like every day—the world melted away.

We were just Skip and Bebella.

My breath hitched, my stomach trembling when his lips lingered by my belly button.

Edward smirked, staring up at me. "Remember fucking in here and trying to stay quiet while the house was filled to the max?"

I giggled, weaving my fingers into his hair.

"This place is too small." He stood up to kick his jeans off, and I helped with his boxers. "Oww—" I bit his ass. "Watch the teeth."

Laughing but not deterred, I pulled his undershirt up and over his head while Edward started the shower. The material was damp, and I held it to my nose, smiling after a hearty whiff—of Edward. It was enough…to make all my passion, all my love, if it wasn't already, pool in my stomach, making it knot. It had me feeling as if I'd explode with emotions.

So many things come from Edward's scent.

"I'm working on getting us a bigger place," he said.

"Huh?" I was confused.

"Well…our kids have people in their lives now. God knows how many children Sonny and Maggie will have…" He winced. "Christ. Imagine if they have like ten kids?"

I smiled. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Either way, this place was always so small." He took my hand to help me into the tub.

The water was nice and hot as it hit my back. "Get in."

He followed instructions, placing his hands on my waist. "We ever have to hide out again…we'll have a spot for everybody. I bought one hundred and twenty acres in Northern Vermont, next to the Canadian border."

"A hundred and twenty acres?" I was shocked.

"Yeah…" He lathered himself up, quick to get under the spray. "It's actually by a reserve. They've already started construction. It'll have like seven bedrooms, multiple bathrooms…Carlisle's taking care of it."

"But…something so big—"

"The house will be in the middle of the land, which is already on this desolate, dirt road." He chuckled. "It's a summer home…The construction company thinks it's to be hush-hush for a celebrity…It's under an alias, and it's going to be perfect, although I hope we never have to use it."

I grinned. "Sounds nice."

"If a couple years roll by—" he pecked my lips "—and we don't use it, we'll take the fam up for a vacation. But I promise. We'll duck out as soon as it's finished to take our own little trip."

"Cool." I rose to my toes to get those lips again. "Fuck your wife."

"Oh!" He spat, smiling wide. "With pleasure."

Edward went in for the kill, gathering me in his arms and slamming me back against the tile. I hissed from the coldness but got over it quickly when he started placing kisses along my neck.

The feel of him, his touch…drove me absolutely insane, had me clawing at his back with anticipation.

"Edward—" I pulled his hair to gain access to his mouth, sticking my tongue down his throat to taste him.

That made him groan and hug me tighter, but then he stopped. "I love it…just you and me, getting to be us." He sounded choked up again as his nose rested to mine. "Don't get me wrong. I love our kids—"

"I know what you mean."

We've always been Edward and Bella, but we've also been parents, we've lived our lives in fear sometimes, we have our guards up to ward off possible threats . . .

We've never had the chance to . . . just be.

My lips touched his once more, and Edward put all that weepy shit on that back burner—his cock finding me fast.

He's such an animal, letting out these guttural groans, grunts, and moans—messing my hair, his kisses tender yet vigorous.

My hands trailed along his shoulders, my legs wrapped around his waist, and I held on for the ride.

Everything—everything Edward did felt fantastic.

Just the feel of him…him filling me.

All too soon, I stiffened, holding him tightly as I thrust my hips onto him with force. "Christ!" I screamed.

Edward wore a satisfied smirk—that crooked one. "Edward works just fine." He dropped to his knees, and I almost fell on my ass before he lifted my leg to place it on his shoulder.

"Oh…fuck." I pulled his face into my pussy while his tongue pleasured me. When he started sucking my clit, I almost pushed him away.

It felt too fucking good, and I wanted to push him down—down to the floor so I could ride him, fuck him with no abandon.

But I didn't.

Instead, I came around my husband's fingers, and then he tried to suck my arousal out of me.

Spent, totally fucking satisfied in all ways possible, Edward rose to his feet again. "Bend over the tub," he demanded.

Excited, with a newfound energy, I complied and I actually enjoyed the cool marble touching my tits.

"This ass—" He slapped it.

"Yours." I knew what he wanted to hear. He always loves to be reminded of that fact—that I belong to him—and it's not a lie.

I belong to Edward in every way, shape, and form possible.

And being his…

"Mine." He entered me again, going too far as I gasped out my pain. "Fucking mine!" Edward groaned out, grabbing a handful of my hair.

My eyes rolled as I bounced back against him just as roughly.

After about a minute, Edward slowed down. "I'm gonna—"

I wouldn't relent.

Wearing a victorious smile, I pushed and pushed so hard, not wanting to stop.

"Fuck!" He entered me and stilled, letting out a strangled cry. "Fuck me…"

I still had my back to him, but I tried not to giggle.

"Why you always do that?" he panted. "Gotta make me come, man."

Now I held back an eye-roll. "Man?"

"You know what you do to me..." Edward left me and helped me to stand again.

And I would never, never ever, admit that I dig that power—power in general—as much as he does.

For the few minutes when he's about to lose his shit, I am in total control.

"You're just—" Edward bit his lip and grabbed my ass.

I winced because it hurt.

"This ass…" And I'd never get tired of the Skip's worship. "I love that you're mine." And that's been the catch from the get-go—how Edward, how a playboy, someone who could have any woman they ever wanted—came to be my husband.

All he needed was me.

All he needed was to meet someone who would look past a mess of things, someone who could see his heart and how big it is.

In the beginning, having someone all his own was both the greatest and the scariest thing to Edward.

He'd never had someone before—someone that was his—and that was all he ever wanted.

A devoted woman, a woman's love.

And he wasn't going to let anyone or anything tear me away from him.

And it's still the same to this day.

Although you'd think he'd grasp the concept by now—that I'm not going anywhere.

But I love him. I love the way he wakes up each morning and stares at me, like we've just fallen in love recently.

He makes love to me as if we haven't fucked a million times and in a million different ways before.

To Edward, and to me as well, each day is a new day—a new beginning.

"I love being yours," I sighed.

"I know." He can be cocky, too.

**/=/=/=/=/**

The drive down to the city and then out to Long Island didn't seem as long as I'd thought. That could be because I was exhausted and passed out for about three hours. But Edward never bitched. My husband is too macho to pull over and ask me to drive.

We stopped just before we entered Manhattan to use the bathrooms and get more coffee.

And he offered me some coke, which made me flip my shit.

I know Edward doesn't have a problem and he has a healthy heart.

But after that shit with Sonny, I looked at my husband like he was stupid, crazy.

And when we started driving again, I tossed that bag out the window.

Now I knew why, or how, Edward was so awake.

I just hoped it'd wear off before we reached the kids.

Old habits die hard.

"Why are you still busting my balls about it?" he asked, and we weren't far from the hotel.

"Because—"

"Sonny had the problem. He no longer has a problem, and I had a ten-hour drive ahead of me." He was ranting.

Knowing better, I just rubbed his back. "I know." I decided to let it go.

"I'll never do it again," he whispered.

"Thank you," I said, putting my sunglasses on. "But that's what you always say."

"Just stop fucking nagging me!"

Knowing better, I didn't comment, although my reaction would have been to push him out of the car.

The sun was out, very strong for how early it was. The clock read 9:29 a.m., and I wondered if the kids were up yet.

The valet took our car while a bellboy went to grab our bags.

"I got it," Edward said, not letting the kid take our luggage.

"Thank you." I waved, entering the hotel with my husband.

He was all business as we approached the front desk—had gone on, after we'd checked-in, to say that our children were in Suite 203.

I didn't know what he was getting at, but the conversation turned heated.

"Sir—"

"I want the key. Don't make me ask again." Edward stared at the man but pushed a one-hundred dollar bill toward him.

"That's your son," the concierge said, not as if he was scared, not as if he was upset at all. His tone registered surprise.

"Yeah." Edward nodded. "Gimme the fucking key—"

"Edward!" I jumped to place my hand on his back. "Listen, we just had this long drive…We wanna surprise them," I explained. "I realize you have your policies." I produced another hundred from my purse.

He took it, gave us the damn key, and once we were in the elevator, I hopped up to slap the back of my husband's head. "There were people everywhere—"

"He was being a dick."

"I don't care!" I shouted. "This isn't Manhattan. Some…concierge doesn't know who you are." I was exhausted when I leaned back against the wall. "Why can't we just knock on the door anyway?"

Edward had his head down. "I don't know…"

"Do you think Dame would lock you out? Not let you in?" It was funny and slightly sad, as we walked off the elevator.

"He does everything he can to shut me out," he mumbled. "We _will_ knock, but now that we have the key, if he decides to run away from me…hey." It made some sense. Edward always has his reasons, as much as I may need them spelled out for me.

"They're probably still asleep." I steered us toward our suite, which was next door. We lucked out—that this crazy-expensive hotel had vacancies all in close quarters. Sonny and Maggie had a regular room, number 205, and we had the suite between them and the others, 204.

When we entered the room, I dug the décor—all white with navy stripes, very ocean-like or whatever. There was a couch and an eating area with a small kitchen. There was a bedroom with a king-sized bed, and the deck that landed us right on the beach.

"Look at this place…" I was surprised as I opened the double-doors. "Edward, come look at this."

He was too busy gazing at his cell phone. "Yeah, it's the ocean." He didn't care.

I sucked my teeth before pushing him outside.

"It's nice," he admitted.

"Why are you in such a mood?" I asked.

"Mom…?" That sounded like Kylie. "Am I going crazy?"

I winced and stiffened.

Edward placed his finger to his lips.

"I could have sworn I just heard my mom," Kylie said. "Did you hear anything?"

"No," Peto said. "What do you want for breakfast? I'm hungry."

"Me too!" Edward nearly shouted.

"What the fuck?!" Peto hollered.

Edward and I started cracking up as we left the deck. There was a privacy partition between our suite and theirs. But after taking a few steps, we saw the kids. They sat at the table with the room service menu.

"Mom!" Kylie cried, and she jumped at me.

I got my Kylie hug, and I squeezed her. "Hey, baby girl."

"Mommy…" Her lip quivered.

"Oh..." My kiss lingered on her forehead. "Don't cry."

"I got my period, and it sucks…being here with it."

I smiled while I rubbed her back, looking over to Edward.

"Dad!" It was his turn to get a Kylie hug, which calmed him. The tension visibly and magically left his shoulders in an instant. "How was your trip?" she asked.

I leaned over to embrace Peto. "How are you?" I asked.

"I'm great." He smiled.

I nodded, waiting for Edward to answer Kylie. "It was good—"

"You're back so early," she commented. "Is something wrong? I mean, Sonny's here. Damion said he came last night."

"Everything's perfect," Edward assured her. "We just wanted to—we missed you guys."

"I missed you guys, too." She hung on to Edward as if her life depended on it, and I knew all too well what that felt like. "Did you get me anything?" And Kylie went back to being our Kylie.

"No—"

"What do you mean, no?" she shouted at her father.

"Look, you're on your own vacation," he laughed. "We brought you a piece of Hawaii…" He was at a loss for words.

"But Sonny picked this place, sort of…" Kylie was trying to find the logic.

"We were just about to order breakfast," Peto said.

I would have loved to join them, but I wanted Edward to get some rest first.

"Mom…?" Damion hollered. "What are you doing here?" He rapidly came outside. "What—"

"We missed you guys." I was nervous, wondering how he'd react.

"Right." He rolled his eyes.

Once again, I didn't comment, and that's when I saw Jordan.

Honestly, when we were told she didn't leave with him, I had no ill thoughts. I know what I would have done—what I have done. Whenever Edward said we needed to hide out, I…most times I never had the choice, so I really couldn't place myself in Jordan's shoes. But the fact that she is here speaks volumes, and I hope she loves my son as much as he loves her.

"Oh, yeah…Jordan's here." Kylie didn't sound too happy about that.

I pushed her hair away from her eyes. "Be nice." I gritted out in a whisper.

"Yeah." Kylie stuck her tongue out.

I pinched her arm.

"Oww." She rubbed it.

"You're here. That's great." Dame nodded. "We'll…pack up. See if we can catch a bus back to the city."

"Damion—" I started, but I didn't know what to say. True, it's Sunday, and I know they have shifts at the hospital tomorrow, and I know any threat had possibly been detained.

"Let him go," Edward whispered.

No matter how correct Edward was in his assessment—that we _have to_ let him go, meaning make his own decisions, and come to terms with it—it still broke my heart.

"Well, we had a long drive." I could try to stall them. "We should relax a bit." My eyes zeroed in on Jordan, because if I couldn't reach Damion in front of all these people, then I was going to guilt his girlfriend. "I hope we can have lunch together." And I gave her a tight hug, which I knew surprised her.

"That—that sounds nice, Mrs. Cullen." Jordan smiled.

"Good." I nodded, sighing. "And, please, call me Bella."

Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry—"

"Nothing to be sorry about, sweet girl." I kissed her cheek and wiped my lipstick away, which made her giggle. "Sorry about that." My eyes travelled to the rest of the bunch. "We'll have a big lunch on the beach, and then we'll get you guys back to school."

Damion's stare was blank, his face kind of stoic, which meant he was pissed.

I ignored that face. "We'll let you guys get back to breakfast." I grabbed Edward's hand and pulled him toward our room.

Once inside, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Edward did a nosedive for the bed, and I giggled as I joined him. "It'll be okay," I told him. "You'll relax, we'll have lunch, and then…you can have a talk with Damion."

He grimaced, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. "I don't think I want to. Maybe I should just let it go—eat it. But haven't I proved myself enough? Ever since he was young, I'd make sure I was home before bed time...often enough. Then I'd check the closet for monsters…I'd…And after the year we've had? With him acting out? I did everything—fucking Sonny, too—we did _everything_ we could for that kid." He turned over on his side. "What made his life so horrible…that he hates us? Is it seriously what Lauren did?" He groaned, and I winced at the mention of her name. It stung a bit. "There are quite a few things I'll never forgive myself for…that's one of them."

I hated to agree with Edward, but I also didn't know what to say that'd make him feel better.

"Maybe Sonny—"

"Damion is _my_ son." Edward pointed to himself. "We never—we hardly punished him, I never hit him…He never wanted for a damn thing. No life is perfect, and he's acting like a fucking brat!"

I sighed, because I honestly felt as though we'd been punished enough.

And it's a horrible feeling…

Thinking that someone you love so much could possibly hate you.

"We should never give up trying to be closer to him, but . . ." I whispered. "I love him. I'll never _stop_ loving him or being there for him. But maybe his distancing himself . . . it's just who he is because...he doesn't want to be…like you, Edward. You've said so yourself; he's just like you in many ways, and it'd be so easy for him to take that plunge."

It was hard to get those words out. "And I know you see it as a curse, him not wanting to embrace what you think he's meant for…but _I_ want to see it as a blessing." I tried to shield the blubbering mess that's my face. "He wants his own life, one that has nothing to do with the family business, crime, fucking Bay Ridge. He wants something different, and that's—" I stopped talking when I saw Edward's face.

My husband was livid. "Stop crying. I hate most of all that he gets you upset—"

I had to hide my feelings because I didn't want Edward to be mean to Damion. "He wants something different. All we can do is support him. All we can hope is that…he lets us in, lets us tag along for the ride, and that he's happy." I shrugged.

"I've been doing everything I can to make sure his dreams come true—trying to keep him uninvolved. The kid wanted to be a doctor, we sent him to medical school. Hell, back in the day, when he wanted to be a candlestick, and you made him the fucking costume. We've been nothing but supportive…Maybe the kid just hates us? I don't know what to do anymore, Bella." His heart was breaking, too.

I hummed through gritted teeth as I tried my hardest not to cry. "Let's get some rest." I settled down in my Edward-nook, inhaling his scent.

"Don't worry." He squeezed me.

"Try to get some sleep." I yawned.

He snorted. "As much yak as I . . . yeah, I'll try." He was placating me.

"Just…" I had no fight left in me at that point, and I closed my eyes.

But not ten minutes later, Edward and I were startled by a bang on the wall. We sat up to stare at it and then settle down.

"Sonny's headboard." Edward smiled. "Get. It. Baby. Boy!" He banged his fist on the wall.

"Edward!" I slapped his back.

But my husband was suddenly lighthearted, kept hooting, hollering, and banging on that fucking wall.

"That's what I'm talking about—the love." Edward nodded. "Get it!"

I smacked my forehead; Edward was obviously still high, amped up and hyper.

"I'm sorry." He settled down. "You sleep." He rubbed my back.

"Like I can sleep." I was sarcastic, still being serenaded by a headboard. "Maybe you should go for a jog?" That'd burn some of his energy.

"Eh..." He turned on the TV.

* * *

_**The end is nigh . . .**_

**_Thank you for reading._**

**_Please leave me your thoughts._**


	51. Wayward Son

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

*** Added a paragraph/any grammatical errors are mine. **

* * *

**This is the last regular chapter. Coming up, we have two epilogues, and then...I'm sorry. The story will be over. I'll be hitting the complete button on this story. However, you never know. Keep following Riders for any potential - I can't make any promises - future outtakes. (I have a few ideas/glimpses into the future)**

**Ending this story - the series - has been very emotional for me. I don't want to end it either, it seems, but it's time. **

**I'd like to thank quite a few people: **

**HollettLA, my amazing beta, who helps make the chapters prettier for you all. She truly is an inspiration, and she does keep me going, and she's one of my best friends, and I fucking love her. Lisa, thank you! **

**CaraNo, my fuckhot Twife, has been a great help. She knows these characters as well as I do, it seems. Sometimes, when "I" can't find the words, she can, and she's helped me along - has also kept me going when I thought...well, when I didn't know if I should or_ could_ continue.**

**JMac...I just fucking love you, bb!**

**AND Quiet Storm would have ONLY been a one shot had it not been for Ashma0407, CiCiGooden, and Ttharman. I originally wrote the first chapter of QS for them, as a crackfic type thing. LOL. They made me keep writing, made me flesh it out. **

**I've had plenty of Prereaders for the Storm series throughout the years - people whose encouraging words and thoughts have helped as well. Let's see if I can name them all: JMac, Ashma0407, DeeBelle, CiCiGooden, KrisStrouse, Rose Arcadia, Dr. Tammy, B. Tait, OcSickGirl, Jen Burdick, and my buddy Najs who's provided me with fantastic commentary/reviews for each chapter. **

**Most of all, I'd like to thank you guys - the readers! You guys rock! And I swear. Storm Series readers are the most passionate within the fandom. LOL. THANK YOU!**

**I love you all!**

**Thank you to everyone...for giving me this opportunity to share these stories, everyone who's supported me through the good, the bad, and the ugly!**

**Thank you!**

**- Lexi**

* * *

"**Riders on the Storm"**

**Chapter Fifty-One: Wayward Son**

**Edward POV**

**B**ella managed to fall asleep while I ducked out to sit on the deck. It wasn't as quiet as I'd hoped. From the sound of it, Sonny and Maggie joined Kylie, Peto, and them for breakfast. I heard them all laughing at different times, heard Dame and Sonny cajoling each other.

It sounded like Sunday dinners…

But most of all, I hated knowing that my presence would hinder that.

If I'd made my sitting here known, they'd stop laughing and kidding around.

They'd stop being themselves.

And my heart was breaking as my mind reeled, wondering how I'd made it that way.

Kylie, my sweet baby girl, doesn't hold her tongue around me. She says whatever to actually get reactions out of me.

Sonny, he's never been anything but honest. Because somewhere along the way, our relationship changed. We went from being father and son to being peers—almost like brothers in a way. But neither of us has ever forgotten—I'm his father, and he's my son. And the love we share, the way we understand each other—it's precious to me. I know when to parent him, when to lend my ear as if I'm his brother, and when to be a hard-ass because he can be stubborn. We butt heads and yet it's accepted and we move on.

Damion…

I just don't know anymore. If someone asked me ten years ago, I would have said the opposite.

After doing my bid, coming home, Damion embraced me.

Sonny was the one who gave me hell in the years to follow.

Then Sonny was hurt…

Things changed, albeit slightly, but Damion had a colder, tougher edge while Sonny softened just a bit.

My eldest finally let me be his father.

Damion no longer feared the small stuff; he wasn't as mushy.

It was a happy medium.

Life in the years that followed…Sonny and I remained close, even if I'd ride his ass.

Maybe he didn't appreciate it then, but I know he does now, and he always respected it—no matter his distaste in the past.

When he turned seventeen and begged me to put him to work . . . even after knowing what I did, how I made my living.

Well, there was a time where I swore my children would never do what I do, and then that changed.

Sonny excelled at everything he put his mind to, and I knew that'd be the case. It's that way with each of my children. All they have to do is want it, and then they'll do whatever it takes to have it and keep it.

Sure, they've all had their fair share of trouble—Sonny with his fighting and then recently with the drug use, Kylie being bratty and never accepting the word "no"—but fucking Damion, man.

He was always an exceptional child.

He was always the smart one.

He'd do his best to stay out of trouble. Or, maybe he never acted out because he'd have me and Sonny to answer to. I have no idea.

But I never worried about him.

Truth be told, now that he's not involved, I'm not really worried about him.

I just wish he'd let me in.

If he can't accept that I'm his father—he can't let me be his dad—I wish he'd let me be his friend.

"Noah!" Sonny shouted, leaving the deck to chase that little dog.

"Get him before he reaches the water!" Maggie ran after Sonny, wearing a tent of a T-shirt that practically flapped in the wind.

"Stop running!" Sonny turned to Maggie, concern etched on his face.

It made me smile—funny, because he won't even let the poor girl run.

"Get the dog!" Maggie hollered, pointing to the shoreline.

Sonny groaned. "Noah!" His voice took that tone, and that rat-like thing ran like a motherfucker back to Maggie. "If he can't act right, put him back in his cage."

He sounded how I used to, when I'd send Sonny to his room…

"He probably ran like that because he's always stuck in that crate." Maggie pouted, and she had a point.

A certain level of freedom is needed, or else a person—or dog—will go apeshit as soon as it has its wings.

That's why I've eased up on Kylie.

All baby girl wants is to be with Peto.

Her crying about freedom . . . her wanting this or that, it all went away because Aro's son came back.

Now she's whole.

I'm just waiting for that phone call, for them to either tell us they're already engaged, or Peto needs to set up a sit-down to ask for her hand. I know it's coming. Aro raised the kid right, so he'll be calling for my blessing—my permission—if Kylie doesn't pop the question herself.

Our daughter has a lot of Bella in her, but she's got some of the Skip's genes, too.

It could play out in a few directions, but the end result will still be the same.

_They're it for each other. _

"I'll put the leash on him." Sonny placed a lingering kiss on Maggie's forehead, and that's when his eyes found me. "Dad?"

I gave him a chin jerk.

"Oh!" he hollered and started running toward me.

I smiled as I left the deck to meet him halfway, because that's what _we_ do—we have a level of understanding between us, can always find a compromise in most situations. "What's up?"

Sonny's big ass wasn't stopping. He kept sprinting toward me until he embraced me, tackled me to the ground. "I'm so happy to see you." He hugged me tightly.

I didn't care that I was covered in sand. "Me too, baby boy." I kissed his cheek.

"Dad…" His eyes met mine, but Sonny's still too tough for his own good. The tears in his gaze never spilled. "Thank you," he said.

I nodded. "Thank _you_."

"No." He stood up and pulled me with him. "Thank you for…everything. Just everything. Everything you taught me, the confidence you have in me—"

"Shhh." I yanked him into another embrace.

"It's still hard to believe…um, promise me you won't—"

I leaned away to hold his cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere, not until you know all the answers." I wasn't exactly ready to step down just yet, and I hoped that'd be okay with him.

"Thank God," he laughed, patting my back. "Did I pass your test?" He raised a brow.

"With flying colors…I never doubted it for a minute." It was the God's honest truth.

"Cool . . . Did you wanna talk now, or…?" He shrugged.

"Save it for when we're back in the city," I whispered.

"All right." He nodded. "Just…let it all settle down, let Luke take care of Mike before you take care of Luke."

I started cracking up. "I promise."

"That way it'll look like Philly's avenging Mike."

"Abso-fucking-lutely." Maybe I taught this kid better than I thought. "Exactly." I hugged that fucker again. "I love you," I said.

"I love you, too." He stepped away. "You okay? You seem…jittery."

I huffed a breath, looking around us. We were closer to my deck than his, our voices were hushed, and I hoped Damion was out of earshot. "Dame said some shit, thinks I left you in the lurch. You don't feel that way, I hope?" I didn't think he did, but I wanted to make sure.

"No, I understand perfectly. If you were around, you would have handled it. You wanted me to, which is what I told Damion," he whispered. "We're getting along better…I'll talk to him."

"Don't," I begged. "Just…the last thing I wanna do is fight with him." I was so angry, so upset about the circumstances—what Damion said—I was afraid that if I confronted him, I'd throw my fist out.

"I…I haven't told him much. Basically, just that you had your reasons. That you were away, and you asked me to handle shit." He stepped closer to me. "Kylie and Dame, mostly Dame, they were scared shitless. They thought…"

"Well, Kylie…other than recent times when we've included her, she's always thought they were vacations. She's never known…the things you and your brother do." I didn't know what else to say. "Being afraid is new to Kylie—"

"And Dame's been running from his fear instead of facing it...for too long. He thinks he can, wanted to go to the sit-down with me." Sonny seemed at a loss as well. "He cheered up when Jordan came through—"

"How'd you get her to come?" I was curious.

He winced. "Dame said she was…torn? I don't know. When I called, all I explained is that…if by some chance she had a change of heart, I'd get her to Dame. But she was like, 'I'll just see him Monday,' and then…"

"What?" I asked.

"She just agreed—wanted to know where he was at so she could take the bus. It worked out."

I quirked a brow. "Did you…threaten her? You didn't threaten that poor girl, did you?"

"God, no!" He chuckled. "Why would I do that? I didn't need to do that, although I did think about it—like if she refused to come. At first, she was calm, said she'd see him Monday, and then she…like started crying, was relieved and agreed to come real fast. She legit missed his ass."

"Okay." I nodded. "How's Maggie feeling? How are things?"

"Everything's great." He turned when his brother came outside to smoke a cigarette.

"When are you going to quit?" I asked. "You're on your way to becoming a doctor…" I had to break the ice somehow, and since he already thinks I'm a prick, I figured, fuck it.

We try so hard to include him, walking on eggshells and tiptoeing.

We just try so-fucking-hard with that kid.

And maybe Damion doesn't pull away altogether because he's afraid he'll hurt us.

He wants his own life.

He resents being a Cullen, being my son.

And maybe he needs that push.

Maybe _we_ needed to let him go?

I love him—as much as it'll break me—I loved him_ enough_ to let him go.

Let him do his residency wherever he wants…

Let him separate himself from us.

Let him have his freedom.

But . . .

Fuck all that.

Family stays together.

There was no way I'd let him _get_ away…get too far, anyway.

In the end, though, I truly want him happy…

In short, I had absolutely no idea what to do.

Damion put his smoke out in the ashtray and then went right back inside.

"Nice," Sonny commented. "What's his problem suddenly?"

"Me," I said. "I'm his problem…and if it's not you, it's me, which is classic Dame." I was tired now, feeling a bit groggy or maybe defeated. "Dame!" I hollered, calling for him. He was fast to stop walking and turn, widening his arms. "Get out here. Lemme talk to you." I had to…I just had to.

Damion scooped his sneakers on and hopped over the deck railing to land in front of me. "What's up?"

"Take a walk wit' me." I jerked my head.

"Go on." Sonny pushed him before running back inside.

Damion sighed. "I'm not apologizing for what I said." His tone was stern. "Shit got hot, and you took off—"

"Shut up." I shook my head. "You don't understand." I started laughing; nothing was funny. "You think I'm going to be around forever?" I pointed to myself. "No, I'm not. And there's going to come a day when Sonny's going to have to handle shit like that without me. He's gonna have to get you and your sister outta Dodge—make sure youse are safe and handle his business. You could call this a trial run…and I wasn't in fucking Hawaii!" I shouted, quick to bring my voice down. "I wasn't far away at all, just in case I had to come back—God forbid anything."

Stopping to catch my breath after that rant, I had to place my shaking hands into my pockets. "I've made mistakes, Dame—there's shit I can't change. But tell me what more you want? Want from me? I'm here. I've_ been_ here, and you can't even meet me halfway. We get just close enough and then you push me away again…As much as you don't think so, I _know_ you need me—"

"I don't," Dame said.

"I thought we were past all that shit. So, now you tell me, Dame. Tell me...This recent chip on your shoulder…was it because of that misunderstanding?" I asked. "Because you didn't know our being away had a purpose?"

Damion faced the water, wouldn't look at me.

"Fucking _look_ at _me_!" I slapped my chest.

"Sonny needed you—"

"He didn't!" I cut him off. "He didn't need me for shit! Sonny handled things better than I would have—"

"Because he's perfect." He snorted.

"No." I was fast to say. "He's not perfect. No one's perfect. You handled things great, too. You both did fantastic, and...your slate's a lot cleaner than Sonny's, but this isn't a competition, nor is it about your brother. I had faith that you guys would be just fine. I knew youse didn't need me. You were there for Sonny, for Kylie, for Maggie when your mother and I couldn't be. You stepped up, which was what Sonny also had to do. Tell me how this is a problem?" I widened my arms.

"You should have—"

I barked out a laugh. "If I drop dead tomorrow and some shit pops off next week. You still gonna hate me then? For not being here?"

"But you're _not_ dead, and you _are_ here," he said. "I just can't believe you'd saddle Sonny with your crap—"

"My crap?" I asked. "I've made decisions, just like Sonny has made decisions, and _you've_ made decisions. You chose not to be involved, and I don't want you to be. It's my life—Sonny's life, and you obviously hate our lifestyle, as much as you embrace certain aspects…" In truth, I couldn't make heads or tails of him.

"But…what happened?" I pushed my hair back. "That's _our_ crap—Sonny's and mine to deal with as we see fit. _I_ didn't need to be here. Sonny knew what to do." I also didn't know what else to say. "Look, I can plead my case to you all day. I can sit and explain my reasoning." I stiffened, angry, because I didn't feel the need to _plead_ at all. Fuck pleading. "But why should I? I've got my word and my dick, and if you don't accept what I say, you can suck it!" I grabbed my junk. "I'm tired of walking on eggshells with you—you need to toughen up!"

"Whoa!" Sonny jumped out to get between us.

"I'm fine." I held my hands out. "I'm not—" Huffing a breath, I turned away from the scene, but then I turned right back. "I never—in my life—had as much patience as I've shown with you. You grew up as my son, dealt with things as they were because you're my son. But get…get over it." My voice broke and tears pricked my eyes, but I was fast to shake it off. "Get over yourself! Be a fucking man and accept the things you can't change—like the past, the fact that you're my son!"

Sonny was ushering me away from his brother while Damion walked toward me.

"What's up, Dame?" I widened my arms again, knowing he wanted to take a swing at me. "Let's go!"

"Edward!" Bella shrieked. "Get in here!"

I ignored her, pushing Sonny away. "Let me go."

"No." He was seconds away from getting a punch in the face, too.

"You hate us? You don't wanna be a Cullen? Change your name and go! Just fucking go!"

"No!" Bella yanked on my shirt. "Dame…" She ran after him as he started walking down the beach.

"Just let him go!" I hollered out. "That's what he wants—"

"Dad!" Sonny grabbed my jaw. "Stop it!"

I pushed him out of my face, but my eldest was going to save me from me.

Or, save his brother.

Sonny slammed his chest to mine, holding me to the outside wall of our suite. "Relax!"

I gritted my teeth, turning to punch the wood paneling. "He hates us."

"He doesn't," Sonny whispered.

"I just want him happy…even if that means pushing him away," I admitted, swallowing my tears. "I don't know what happened." I held my forehead. "I was trying to explain and then I just got so angry—"

"You did. You explained…but you also didn't give Dame a chance to talk. You just…lost it." Sonny shrugged, taking a seat on the step. "You didn't tell him that you're thinking of…stepping back."

Aggravated, I didn't know what I wanted anymore. Being the boss is my life. It's my role, my crap, and maybe I shouldn't let it land on Sonny's lap. Maybe Damion had a point. Maybe I should stop trying to make up for the past, but no.

Just like I was groomed to be who I am, I've raised Sonny to be my successor.

Being the Skip and being a family man—Bella's husband and a father to three beautiful children—has always been a juggling act. It never fails. Whenever I'd excel at one thing, the other would crumble, and time is a funny thing.

I always thought I'd have time—time to set things right.

In life, you slack off where you can if things are too much, and I've always taken my family for granted—thinking there'd be all this time where I could set things straight, be a better father, be a better husband.

And . . .

There's no such thing as stepping back from parenting.

I've done enough of that. I've spent too much time teaching Sonny how to be me. I've spent too much time spoiling Kylie to keep her happy. I've spent too much time thinking Damion was all right, not concerning myself with him, because he was never problematic.

I'm years late to the game, but I needed to step up and be a father.

Since they were babies, I've truly spoiled them all.

Always having thought that if I gave them what they wanted . . . whatever frivolous purchase would make up for my absence.

I've always gone for the quick fix.

This time . . . my word wasn't good enough.

Just telling my wife and children of my future plans wouldn't work.

I'd have to show them.

I'd have to be there for them in any capacity.

"What'd you tell me…like last month?" Sonny asked. "You said Dame needed you. You_ know_ he needs you now. So…you left, and he was hurt that you left. He might have even been more scared. I don't know."

I nodded, having a seat next to him. "He breaks your mother's heart constantly—"

"Then let Mom handle it. She misses him, she can run into the city to bring him leftovers like she does, or—"

"He breaks my heart, too," I whispered. "You were right. I've always been harder on you, but I knew you could handle it. With your brother…he breaks under pressure, and I didn't want him hating me. I knew, that no matter how hard I pushed you, you'd always…I don't know. You and me are a lot alike." I rested my head on the wall. "Dame thinks he's Teflon…and I tried teaching him when he wanted to be involved. When he wanted to run with a crew, I let him. When he wanted to step back, I let him. I tried my hardest when it came to Dame, and I still do. No matter what I do, no matter how I act, I can't make him happy."

"Then…Dad, that sounds like Damion's problem. Not yours," Sonny said. "Damion's slowly learning how to make himself happy. He's learning how to grow up, and he's always done things in his own time. You explained yourself. Now, wait for it to sink in. Well, you went for him. I don't know when he'll come around."

"I just want you guys happy. And Dame's stuck at this place where he's just a little bit involved…And I know he doesn't want to be. If I have to let him go—"

"Since when do you let _anything_ go?" Sonny spoke with his hands. "Since when do you give up? The Skip I know doesn't give up."

I sighed. "I'm your father. I'm Damion's father. I'm Kylie's father, and there's no limit to what I'd do…if it was what you guys wanted or truly needed." My heart felt like it was breaking again. All I wanted to do was hug Bella tight and cry my eyes out.

"Dad—" he placed his arms around me and hugged me tight "—go rest for a bit. Relax…Get your head together. Dame'll still be here when you wake up. I'll make sure."

"Yeah." Tears welled up in my eyes, and I left the embrace. "We'll have lunch on the beach, like Mom said before, and then...hopefully I can talk to Dame."

"All right." He nodded.

"I'm so fucking tired of this!" Bella was ranting, her little ass dragging Dame over by his ear.

"Ma, fuck!" He winced when she pushed him into his brother.

"First one to throw a punch is gonna have to deal with me." She was going to be the referee. "I refuse to believe you hate us." She stared up at Dame, eyes pleading. "_Do_ you hate us?"

"Of course not!" he shouted.

"Dame—" Sonny started "—they didn't leave us. Okay? I know…things happen, and it reminds you of your childhood. You get scared, and there's nothing wrong with that. But Mom and Dad won't always be around."

"I know that," Dame whispered. "I just—" He shook his head. "I'm more upset he left you than us as a whole…I don't know."

"I wouldn't've, if I didn't think he could handle it," I explained. "Sonny knew, and I don't know what I'm allowed to tell you, what I can tell you, what you wanna hear or what you don't. But if it's not one thing with you, it's another." I looked to my wife. "Maybe it's time to back off."

"Over my dead body!" Bella was shouting but crying, too. "The three of youse can be so rotten to each other, but it ends now! And Damion's gonna promise to be at every Sunday dinner."

"I—" Dame was stuck and then he slumped his shoulders "—fine. All right."

"The prank war is over. I don't wanna hear shit about a ham unless it's in the oven!" Bella continued.

Damion and Sonny nodded their heads.

"And you—" she grabbed my chin, a growl escaping her before she pushed my face away "—Christ. You piss me off!"

She was adorable, wrangling all her grown boys, which made things fade—Bella's always doing that. I can be angry, sad, whatever, and she makes it better.

"You wanna spank me?" I asked with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh!" Dame and Sonny shouted and then silence fell upon us.

Honestly, I didn't know if our family would be okay, but seeing how Dame reacted to his mother gave me hope; I had faith. I hoped we would be just fine.

Like Bella said, we're currently in the middle—where there's time for things to work out, play out, and this is where the good stuff happens.

"Dad, I don't hate you guys," Damion whispered. "I was upset. And there were times when you weren't around, times when we needed you—"

"It wasn't by choice," I said.

"I'm not talking about you being locked-up, necessarily." Dame cleared his throat. "I thought you were being selfish, and you did hit a nerve…asking about my girl. But what happens in my relationship, Dad, that's my business. I need you to respect that. Back when I was with Amelia…everyone, including you, was in our relationship—I couldn't stand it. It bothers me even more now." Speaking of, Jordan took tentative steps to stand near Dame.

I put my hands up. "After the reaction I got yesterday, I'll never bring her up. You can, if you want to." I blew out a breath. "I'm always going to be your father. We're always going to be your family—no matter what—and I just want you to let us."

Dame had tears in his eyes as he shook his head. "It's been a long year—a lot of ups and downs for me. I don't know where to begin. I owe youse all apologies and explanations…" He stared at Jordan, his chin wrinkling. "There's so much you don't know—"

My wife had wide eyes when she grasped Dame's bicep, which shut him up…for the moment. "We know. We owe them to you, too—we owe you many apologies." Bella placed a hand on his cheek. "We know we weren't there when you needed us the most." That's where I thought she was wrong; Bella's always been a fantastic mother. "We didn't protect you—"

"I don't—I _can't_ talk about that." Dame jerked his face away, and he couldn't look at Jordan either.

"But…" I reached to squeeze his hand "—we won't stop trying to make that up to you, and when you're ready…we're here to listen. I didn't mean what I said…I could never let you go." I stood up to face him. "We should go for that walk—talk." The epitome of calm now, I didn't know what could be said—what Damion wanted Jordan to know, nor did I want him to feel embarrassed. She rubbed his back, wearing a frown, supportive, but Jordan looked confused.

Damion placed his palms over his eyes, his shoulders shook a bit and then he composed himself. "This is like an episode of _Full House_—miraculously, there's a happy ending. However, it's not believable at all." He chuckled despite himself.

"It's not the end of _anything_," Bella said. "I'm sure you and your father will have this same argument again." She wiped under her eyes.

None of us truly knew what he was getting at, but he used to love all those old sitcoms on Nick-at-Nite when he was a kid.

"You'll always be our Dame." Bella lunged to hug him, which made Damion crack up.

"What's going on?" Kylie, Maggie, and Peto came from around the corner. "Oh, Mom…don't cry." And Kylie started. "I can't!" She hugged Damion's back, trying to claw for Bella.

"Babe…" Peto tried to soothe her. "I mean—" He took his hands back.

"Cut the shit!" Sonny shouted, pushing him into Kylie.

And I felt bad for Dame, being the middle of a Kylie-and-Bella Sandwich. But much like I would, he embraced it and laughed his ass off.

"We'll be okay," I whispered.

Sonny pulled Maggie back to his chest. "We will," he answered me, placing a kiss on his wife's cheek.

I looked to Dame's girl. "You should get in there." I pointed.

Jordan wore a hint of a smile while she grasped Damion's hand.

"Oh…I'm sorry, too." Kylie jumped at Jordan, and the two stumbled back.

"They fighting?" Sonny stood up to stare.

I smiled. "No…they're laughing."

Kylie was quick to leave Jordan, extending a hand to help her up. "I just—I have my period, and I—I don't know. I'm sorry."

"You can't blame everything on your period, Kylie!" Maggie put her two cents in.

"Shut up!" Kylie spat. "Mrs. ICryAlotBecauseI'mPregnant!"

Jordan looked even more confused than before as she wiped sand off her shorts. "It's cool." Her gaze whipped back to Dame, who was being hugged to death by Bella.

I stepped toward them, and I tried to pry my wife off of him.

"Get away!" she shouted at me, peppering Dame's face with kisses.

I put my palms up.

Every single one of us can be at each other's throats and then hug it out within the same five-minute span of time.

And it happens _all_ the time.

We all have tempers.

We all get jealous of whatever will take someone away from us.

We all love hard, and we fight even harder.

_No, I think we love the hardest. _

I'm not sure, but I knew I was out of line before.

However, I've spent most of my life crossing lines or coming real close, and Sonny was correct.

I never let anything go, and I truly didn't want to have this discussion again.

"Lemme talk to you a second." I placed my hand on Dame's shoulder.

"Edward," Bella warned.

"I'm fine," I whispered. "I swear."

My wife—the love of my life—gave me the stink eye, but she knew. Bella knows just by looking at me how I feel. She backed away from Dame, not saying any more. Bella approached Maggie, asking for an ultrasound photo. A few of them scrambled away, except for Jordan and Damion.

"I'll be in soon." He kissed her hair. "It's fine…You know we're weird." And that was probably the best way he could have summed us up.

Jordan accepted that answer, rising to her toes to peck his lips.

I turned to give them privacy, but they were fast.

"It was a misunderstanding," Damion said, watching Jordan as she walked away. "You guys—you and Sonny both—can tell me anything and everything. It-it has nothing to do with not wanting to be involved," he whispered. "If it has to do with my family, I wanna know—"

I cleared my throat, jerking my head. "Walk with me."

Dame sighed, trailing along next to me.

"I'm…hoping to retire soon. Not completely, but step back." I waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "I hope…having more time will allow me to…be the husband your mother always deserved, be the father you and Kylie need—Sonny, too. I hope for so many things. And most of all, I hope you and me…we can be friends. We can…have some level of understanding. As much as you might hate it…Dame, you're _just_ like me. We're one in the same."

"Sonny's like you."

I stopped walking to face him. "This has _nothing_ to do with your brother. Yes, he has a lot of me in him, but you…Dame, it was touch and go with you. And your mother's right. It'd be so easy for you to do what I do, to be who I am, but you don't want that. And…I'm glad you don't." I pushed my hair back. "You're brilliant. You're a good person—the_ best_ person. You think I play favorites…but I don't. Just like you, Sonny, and Kylie are different people…I treat you all differently. I know what your sister needs, what your brother needs…and right now, baby, you need me." I reached to palm his cheek.

He wouldn't let me. "It's been a crazy year."

I nodded, my vision blurred by my tears. "I'm sorry for being an asshole before. It's no excuse, but I—"

"You're high," he said. "Or, coming down."

I didn't reply.

"I could always tell," he sighed, looking to the ocean. "How can you—how could you beat on Sonny and then snort a line?" He chuckled.

I smiled. "I've always…well, like I've always told you and your brother, 'Do as I say, not as I do.'" I pointed to myself. "I had a ten hour drive…" Shaking my head, my gaze fell back on him. "Will we ever get along? I wanna fix us, so you're around more, so—"

"It's hard, and it actually has little to do with…well, I don't know." He stopped talking, and we kept on walking a few paces while I waited for him to continue. "It _would_ be easy…to embrace that side of myself…too easy, but I don't want it. That's—that'd be the easiest route to take in life." He eyes found me again. "The more I'm around you guys…the more I wanna—" He squeezed his fists tightly. "Then when I'm at school, I'm someone totally different. I'm normal."

I nodded because I understood it.

"Yet all of that has nothing to do with you, Mom, or anyone." He huffed a breath. "I decided a while ago that I wouldn't run…from being a Cullen anymore. You know…? So, I may not be like Sonny—"

"No one is asking you to!" I couldn't help but shout that. "I'm sorry for getting loud."

"I'm me, and I still have a few quirks to work out." He shrugged. "I thought you just skipped out, though…I didn't know what your plans were. I want to be in the know."

"There's a lot you_ can't_ know—"

"But if it concerns us as a family, I should know, and I wanna know, Dad." Him calling me that had me feeling weepy.

I squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?"

I shook my head, smiling. "Giving me an inch. I love you."

He paused. "Yeah . . . I love you, too."

I pulled him into my arms for a hug. "I didn't mean what I said before." I rocked us, closing my eyes and pretending—despite his large form within the embrace—that he was six years old with an uneven smile, innocent eyes alight with love and admiration. "I have so many regrets," I admitted as tears trailed down my cheeks. "But I promise…I'll be here. I won't let you get away. Again, Mom was right. We didn't—we didn't protect you. But we love you so much. I love you with everything that I am, and I swear to Christ, Damion. I'm never leaving you again…It took a while for me to learn—for me to see what's most important."

I pulled away, placing my palms to my eyes. "Family. You—Mom, Kylie, Sonny—you guys are most important. All my life…I was too busy, doing this or that, and I promise to make that up to you."

Damion swallowed and his eyes looked a bit watery. "Cocaine's one helluva drug."

I sucked my teeth, and a chuckle escaped through my tears. "Yeah…"

"Know that I don't keep my distance because of you guys. It's because of me. I don't hate youse." He sniffled. "I don't. I've always—always loved you guys."

I nodded, gathering him into my arms again. "I want you to know me, and I wanna know you. Like you have lunches with Sonny, I hope we can do that..." I let go of him. "I hope we can get together like we started to, that we keep at it and chill."

He agreed as we turned to walk back to the hotel. "I'd like that."

"Good." I cleared my throat.

"It felt awesome…doing this, stepping up for Sonny when he needed me. If you ever need me, Dad—"

"Okay." I rasped. "And if you ever need me, you know where I'll be."

"Somewhere between Mom's legs." That sarcastic ass chuckled.

I grinned. "Most likely, but that doesn't make me unavailable."

We both laughed.

_**Thank you for reading.**_

_**Please leave me your thoughts.**_


	52. Epilogue One

**Stephenie**** Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd**** by ****HollettLA****.**

**Here is the first of TWO epilogues. **

**#2 will be posted soon. **

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Epilogue: Christmas**

**Damion POV**

_**B**_elieve it or not, a lot has _not _changed in the past six months. A few things have, but I wouldn't call them major. Jordan and I are still going strong. While I'm ready to caveman it—knock her out with a club and drag her down an aisle—she hasn't mentioned anything regarding the future.

Meanwhile, my little sister and Peto are engaged.

Maggie's fucking huge now—about to fucking pop that kid out any second.

Mom is still…Mom.

Sonny's busier than he ever was while my father's home so much; it gets on my mother's nerves. She swears it doesn't, that she's only kidding when she tells him to get out of her hair. Maybe she is? Fuck, I _know_ she is. 'Cause if Dad was still out there all the time, she'd be bitching and moaning a lot more than she does these days.

As far as I know, Mom and Dad are happier than they've ever been, actually.

And I know that because my father kept his word.

Every Tuesday, we meet for lunch. He comes to the hospital, where we chat about everything—our lives and what's going on. Sundays, my only day off, the three of us get to hang out—Sonny, Dad, and me—while I also get to spend time with Mom and Kylie.

For our lunches, though, Dad has to come to NYU since fourth year is even more grueling than third year.

I'm getting even less sleep than I did.

Thank God Jordan and I are still a team in that respect, too—although she's going into OB/GYN and I've settled on the surgical program for residency—and we're both focusing on our respective paths this year. Even so, we're still at the hospital during the same hours. We get to see each other in passing, and…

Well, I'd wanted for us to get our own apartment near NYU, but neither of us have apartment money.

Every once in a while I get that itch to ask Sonny for a job, but I've managed to…push that side of myself so far away, it's practically dead and buried.

_Even if one contract could mean a whole year's rent for a nice studio downtown—_

I stopped that thought before I could finish.

_For the thousandth time. _

With getting closer to my father, I approached him about it—thinking he could take pity on me and get me a place. The man has so much fucking money. Maybe he took a step back, but his hand is still in everyone's fucking pockets.

He said sure, he'd get me an apartment.

Only . . . it's nowhere near the hospital.

I'm living in Sonny's old apartment on Fourth Avenue—across from the tanning salon that Maggie runs now, since her head wasn't in school, like I knew it wouldn't be—it's in Bay Ridge. It's rent-free, so I shouldn't complain, but I do . . . because Jordan refused to live with me. She lives at the dormitory, still, but after this year…she'll be kicked out on her ass. Forced to live with me.

_Hehehehe__. _

Sure, the apartment in Bay Ridge isn't convenient at all, but at least while we're there, we have total privacy. Yet, two or three days a week, I find myself bunking with my love—passing out with her in my arms is more like it; we're always too fucking tired.

Oh, I've also gotten myself a car, and since my father's a persuasive fucker, I have a free parking pass—something only the attending physicians have at NYU.

During the off-hours—when I'm coming or going—it takes me twenty minutes to drive into Manhattan, which truly is nothing, no time at all when it comes to traveling, and Jordan knows that.

She stays over as much as I'm in her bed.

However, I think Jordan would be happiest if…we lived in my car, in the NYU parking lot, or in an on-call room, so she could be there 24/7.

While I should admire her dedication, I spend more time resenting it—albeit halfheartedly.

I do love a smart woman—my woman, who's sitting next to me and pretending to listen to Anthony as he rambles on about some dude he's seeing.

Jordan doesn't care. She keeps squirming because my hand snuck itself into her pants—it has a mind of its own, I swear—and it's cupping her ass cheek.

_No one knows why I'm smiling right now. _

Except maybe Sonny. He keeps quirking a brow any time our eyes find each other. He's currently sitting near my uncle, trying to calm him down.

Hanna brought her fiancé to Christmas Eve dinner, and he looks older than Carlisle.

_My cousin and her daddy issues. _

Fuck. Carli keeps eyeing that old fuck, too. I bet she fucks him to spite her sister.

Now those two? I mean, I know Sonny and I are fucked; we have a weird relationship, but come on? They're ridiculous.

"How old's that dude?" I asked Anthony.

We've actually only been talking as of recent, to be honest—the holiday season and random Sunday dinners. I think he's long forgiven me about the shit with Alex—his mom—although we've never spoken about it. We just haven't had the time to get together, hang out. He's doing his own thing.

Last I heard, he was on Aro's crew, and he has his secret love life that everyone pretends _not_ to know about—he's like in the closet but has his head poked out while overcompensating by being a total tough guy.

And I hardly have enough time to sleep, take a decent shit, or fuck my girlfriend on a regular basis—all three of those usually happen on Sundays, though, no matter if we're at my parents' house.

_It's nothing personal—why we haven't been hanging out. _

"I dunno." Ant grimaced, looking to Jordan. "Can I speak freely?"

I shrugged, not giving a fuck.

Jordan hasn't left me yet—not since that weekend we were in the Hamptons, after which I told her so much. I broke so many things down for her. I even explained…about Lauren and what happened to me—yet, I didn't breathe a word about that bitch's untimely demise. I told her about Alex, the whole Amelia story, more about Maggie…just everything. Everything came spilling out. After that talk with my father, I was just emotional, and I couldn't believe it—how truthful and upfront I was about everything.

She surprised me yet again—how she didn't judge me—she just listened, and she apologized about the bad things that happened to me.

Anthony leaned into us. "My pops wants to have him clipped...just because."

My eyes widened, and I hugged Jordan's head to my chest, as if it'd shield her ears from his words. But then I just laughed. "No way." I let go of Jordan. "He's kidding."

Jordan giggled. "I know." But she didn't know.

I leaned farther back to look at Ant from behind Jordan. "Seriously?" I mouthed.

He gave me a short nod.

"Fuck," I whispered, staring back to the three of them—Carlisle, Sonny, and Virgil.

_Yes, that fucker's name is Virgil._

"Where're my parents?" My head whipped around.

Just as I said that, Maggie waddled over to the recliner. She was about to sit on it, but she thought better. Then Jordan helped her plop down next to us on the couch. "Whew." She blew out a breath. "I think they're in the bathroom—snuck in after I left." She held her huge belly.

"You've dropped so much." Jordan rubbed the bump.

I smiled. "Is my nephew still kicking you like crazy?"

Maggie shook her head. "I haven't had belly-burn all day. My doctor said yesterday at my appointment…I'm already two centimeters dilated, so yeah. Soon."

"Well, you are due _any_ day—any time." Jordan had wide eyes.

"Shut up." Maggie slapped Jordan's thigh. "You know I'm scared."

Jordan rolled her eyes. "You should have thought about that before."

"I know…I'm just nervous, you know?" Maggie reached for the chocolate-covered cherries on the coffee table.

Knowing what she wanted, I handed the box to her. "My parents are fucking in the bathroom, aren't they?"

"Your parents fuck everywhere," Aro said, settling down in the recliner. "It's nice—having everyone together." He guzzled his drink.

I nodded, and, for some reason, we all grew quiet with his presence.

Aro rolled his eyes. "I know when I'm not wanted." No one negated that as he got up to leave. It's not that we hate him or anything, but…

"He's scary," Jordan whispered.

I chuckled.

"He's really nice, actually," Maggie replied. "Like…a misunderstood giant?" She crinkled her brow.

"Oh, well you have experience taming those huge beasts." Anthony gave her a high five. "Santino. Santino…" My cousin chanted his name, admirably.

"Eeewww." Maggie pushed his shoulder. "That's my husband…and your cousin."

"And he's a good-looking man, and with his new title...well, his almost-new-title."

We all fucking grimaced at that.

"I mean—"

"Just stop," I told him.

"Like you should talk, Dame," he said.

We all shut up again, my lips drawing a tight line.

"When's dinner gonna be ready?" Maggie made to get up, reaching her arms out—slouching back only to reach out again. "Someone help me."

Jordan giggled, leaving the couch to help her. "Come on, Momma. We'll go see if Alex needs help…she's in there with Kylie. I'm sure she does." Both women left us to go toward the kitchen, and I watched Jordan's retreating ass like I always do.

"Yo…" Anthony left the chair he was in to sit next to me. "You still down to…" He pulled an air trigger.

Hating my curiosity, I said, "What's up?" Even if I refused to give him a clear answer, I was morbidly curious as to what he wanted to ask of me.

He brought his voice down to a whisper. "No need to deny it. I was made because…Sonny and my father went to bat for me. I still owe your father. I never made my bones." He's never killed before.

"Right." I nodded.

"Your pops is sending me out to Iowa."

"For who?" I asked, keeping my tone hushed.

"I know you keep your distance…but you know a few things. That's where Mike from Philly fled to—some cabin, but he's gotta rat within his inner circle." He pursed his lips.

That dude, the head of the Philadelphia family, ducked out very soon after he dissed my brother. He wasn't in witness protection, he ran on his own, knowing his days were numbered. That's all I knew of—all anyone knew of—until now, I guess. Luke is still Luke. Sonny told me that they couldn't touch Luke until Mike was taken care of—the hit on Luke was supposed to look as though it came from Philly.

"Sonny suggested I take fucking Peto—"

"What?" That was news to me. I actually see Kylie and Peto quite often, too, since they're both going to school at NYU. Sometimes they drop in to say hello, but Peto getting involved…? Never in a million years would I…

Well, it's not far-fetched, not with Peto's overall demeanor. He's rough around the edges, kind of like Sonny, my father, and his own father…but with the rules being what they are—because of his mother's heritage, Peto could never be a made man.

"Eh…the kid's doing this and that—odd jobs to make a few bucks, but I digress." He shrugged. "I know you and me don't talk as much as we used to, and I'm not making any money off it to share—"

"You're not?" I was shocked.

"When you have your button, the boss asks you to do something, you fucking do it—no questions, no reward. Actually, my reward'll be the Skip's respect, Sonny's respect."

I nodded, understanding.

"From what I hear, it's an easy in-and-out job, but I'd rather have someone I trust with me." He hit my arm.

I opened my mouth to speak, and I'd also caught a glimpse of Jordan's ass from the kitchen—in the distance. "I can't—can't take any days from the hospital. Not this year," I said. "I'm sorry, and I know I owe you." That could be why he's hitting me up now, too.

Ant patted my back. "It is what it is. I gotta get my feet wet somehow."

"We're still cool?" I asked.

He snorted. "Of course . . . I leave tomorrow, actually. That's why I thought maybe you could come with, but I get it. We should plan something for New Year's."

"My mom's making dinner," I said.

"We could get drunk." He nodded, chuckling and clinking his longneck to my glass of soda that sat on the table.

"How are you, though, for real?" I quirked a brow.

"I'm perfect…Maybe shit isn't as sweet as it once was, but—"

"What do you mean?" I stared at him.

He glanced out to Sonny, his father, and Aro—who were all staring hard at that Virgil now. "Civil war might be on the horizon," he whispered.

"Civil?" I questioned, my stomach knotting up.

He left the couch. "Wanna go smoke a cigarette?"

I nodded, quick to follow him outside. We passed Jordan and the ladies in the kitchen to get to his backyard.

Once out there, I shivered and lit my smoke. "Why haven't I heard this from Sonny or my father?"

"They don't plan to let it get that far." He sipped his beer. "They'll sooner clip Jasper than—"

"Cousin Jasper?" I was shocked. "Why?"

"Some…a select few aren't too happy with the change in management. Those who like Jasper think he should sit on the throne. Those loyal to your father trust his choices . . ." He trailed off. "The Cullen family might get just a bit smaller." He held up his thumb and forefinger.

Just then, the screen door slammed closed and Sonny came out.

I stared at him. "How come you didn't tell me?"

Sonny pushed Anthony. "Why you talking outta school, bro?"

"It's Damion." Ant pulled on his cigarette.

Sonny sighed, and he actually had his own pack of cigarettes, lighting one up.

"Tell me," I said.

Sonny nodded. "Look, there's nothin' to worry about. We'll make a few examples—"

"Starting with Jasper," Anthony said.

"And the rest fall in line." Sonny spoke over him. "Loose lips sink ships. You ever heard of that? And if Jazz can get it, so can you—watch your fucking mouth!" He yoked Ant up by his collar.

"Chill." I got between them.

Sonny let our cousin go, a growl escaping his lips. "You need to keep your mouth shut. Understand?"

Anthony showed us his palms. "I'm sorry, but it's just Dame."

"Yeah, you're also a made guy. I don't give a fuck who he his." Sonny jerked his chin to me.

"Hey!" I nearly shouted.

Sonny turned to me. "I'm wrong?"

My shoulders dropped. "You're not," I admitted, because he was right. "But...whatever."

Sonny sucked his teeth. "I was gonna tell you…when the time was right. After the holidays…I mean, soon, we might have to attend a few funerals, but that's all I was gonna say."

"Unless…they're out to get you first." My stomach was a wreck right now. "What if—"

"Nothing's gonna happen. Relax." He squeezed my shoulder. "Jasper thinks it's all good—since Dad stepped back from Midnight Sun, gave him his half," he laughed. "We're doing our best to keep everyone happy, but it's just a front. If you can't trust me—the way I do things—trust Dad. He knows how to play his enemies like a fiddle. Right?" He nodded.

"If you guys aren't worried—"

"I haven't lost a wink of sleep." Sonny flicked his ashes onto the floor. "Besides—" he looked around the empty yard "—the hit on Jasper is happening tonight."

"On Christmas Eve?" Anthony gasped.

"Cousin Alice—"

"Dad's idea," Sonny laughed. "He could be dead right now for all we know."

"But Cousin Alice—" I started again.

"Is with Uncle Emmett and Aunt Rose—at their house, celebrating the holiday. Jasper, that piece of shit, is with that cooz he sleeps with. I had someone clocking him—gave the okay a little while ago. I bet he told his family he had to work. I dunno," Sonny explained.

"So, the order didn't come from Dad?" I turned to him, surprised. "It came from you?"

"Does it make a difference?" he asked. "Dad knows, and he agreed with me. We're all here. We all have an alibi."

I nodded, feeling a little bit better, but not really. "And Jasper's crew—"

"Won't do shit." Sonny threw his cigarette butt to the ground to stomp on it. "A few will follow Jasper to the great beyond…" He moved his arm with a flourish, his voice getting deeper and yet wistfully grim. "The others…they'll know better. Dad says it's just history repeating itself, which is why…I've been making Maggie stay with Mom and Dad…why Dad's been home more, too." He turned for the house. "We good now? You know enough?" He was totally calm.

I nodded. "I'd say we're square." I drew one with my fingers.

"Awesome." He winked at me before he disappeared into the house.

I looked to my cousin.

"I don't have a big mouth," he said. "I just knew…you should know."

"Thank you." I truly appreciated it. Sonny says he'd tell me, but who knows? If it doesn't concern us as a family . . . well, no.

Jasper getting clipped will have absolutely no effect on my life.

I shook my head at nothing.

"What?" Anthony asked.

I threw my own cigarette away from me, turning for the door. "I'm freezing." And I missed Jordan.

"I'm right behind you."

"That's what I'm worried about," I joked.

"That so wasn't even funny—it was corny." He followed me back inside. "I actually miss Grandpa. He has the best homo jokes."

I smiled, hoping our grandfather had a decent Christmas Eve with Lizzie and her family back in England. He left New York in October. Says the winters in London aren't as brutal.

"Oh!" Maggie shouted, sitting on a stool in the kitchen. "Did you hear about that new lesbian hotel opening up on Third Avenue?"

"Lesbian hotel?" Anthony furrowed his brow.

"Yeah…The Two Fingers Inn." Maggie guffawed.

It took Anthony, Jordan, Kylie, and Alex a minute to get it, but I barked out a loud laugh. "You've been married to my brother too long."

Maggie giggled. "He thought it was hilarious."

"Oh…I get it!" Aunt Alex let out a small snort, turning away from us. "Carlisle!" She looked back to Maggie. "Tell Carlisle."

Maggie's face turned beet red. "I can't."

Anthony chuckled. "I bet my father told Sonny that."

"No." Maggie smiled.

"What's up?" Carlisle poked his head in.

"Nothing." Maggie waved a hand.

"Oh, come on." Alex pleaded.

"Tell him," Kylie encouraged.

"What's going on?" Mom and Dad showed up, looking gloriously disheveled.

"In my bathroom?" Carlisle asked.

"Fuck you," Dad said.

Mom sighed, wearing a smile, blissfully unaware, and the kitchen became much smaller with everyone in it. "Is the turkey almost done?"

"Almost," Alex said.

"What was so funny?" Dad grabbed an empty wine glass and filled it up.

Maggie pulled on Mom's sleeve. "I told them about…that joke you told me."

"Ha!" Mom slammed her hand down. "The new lesbian hotel."

"What lesbian hotel?" Dad and Carlisle asked in unison.

"Where is it?" Carlisle went on.

"Fucking perverts! Get out of my kitchen!" Aunt Alex shooed them away.

"But it was funny when Maggie said it?" Anthony asked.

"Because it's Maggie." Kylie placed her arm around her. "She's so not innocent. Look." She poked the bump. "But don't say the Lord's name in vain."

"I make her say 'Oh my God' nightly." Sonny showed up.

"Santino…" Maggie giggled.

I grabbed Jordan's hand. "I love you," she said without sound.

I grinned, bending low to kiss her cheek, and now that the bathroom was free . . .

"You told them about The Two Fingers Inn?" Sonny asked.

"Oh…that's an old joke." Dad waved a hand, dragging Mom out of the kitchen. "I bet Aro hasn't heard it—you tell him, love."

"I can't tell Aro that," Mom admonished.

I smiled, watching them leave as I wrapped my arms around Jordan. "Did you wanna have some wine with me?" I whispered in her ear while Sonny ushered Maggie out, too.

"It's nice…seeing you so happy," Alex told me.

"Thank you." I appreciated that—coming from her. "Wine?" My gaze met Jordan's.

"She already had two glasses," Kylie laughed, and my sister was probably on her third glass as well.

I sniffed my woman's mouth. "Huh…I need to catch up, then."

"You're—" Jordan poked my chest "—supposed to drive."

"We can stay at my parents'."

"Oh!" Kylie clapped. "Yeah! Christmas morning and we're all there. Sonny and Maggie are staying, too."

Jordan sighed, turning to face me. "I'm game."

"Good." I reached down to palm her ass.

But then there was all this commotion coming from the other room—indistinct shouting and bustling around. Curiously, I left Jordan to go look, and then Sonny was grabbing and shoving me. "Her water broke!" He was beside himself.

"Relax," Mom said. "It's important to stay calm."

"What? We gotta get to the hospital." Sonny's big ass scooped Maggie into his arms and made a run for it; I was surprised he could lift her.

"Whoa!" I waved my hands in the air. "Chill out!" Meanwhile, I had to get my head together. Everyone was hovering, helped to keep Sonny and Maggie here—not letting them get away.

Sonny turned, his hands shaking and yet he still had his wife in his arms.

"Settle down a second." I was breathing heavy—a bit nervous myself. "You got two doctors here. Two women who've had babies—"

"Exactly!" Mom shouted and hit Sonny's back. "Put her down . . . gently, on the couch."

My brother looked as though he might cry. "You sure you-you didn't piss your pants again? Laughing so hard?"

"N-no," Maggie whimpered, and then she stiffened, holding her abdomen.

I looked to my watch to time the contractions.

"Is this your first?" Jordan asked.

Maggie's face was almost purple so she couldn't answer just yet, but then she said, "Yes!" followed by a few more tears.

"I don't give a fuck—youse ain't fuckin' doctors yet!" Sonny shouted.

"Relax!" Dad slapped the back of his head. "They're…close enough. Should we...boil water?" He looked to my mother.

"Fuck. That! We're going to the hospital—" Sonny made to gather Maggie into his arms again.

"Gimme your keys. I'll drive." I held out my hand.

My brother gave them up before he ran out with his wife.

Sure enough, we all cleared out. There was a procession of vehicles following us to the hospital. Jordan rode shotgun, trying to keep Maggie and Sonny calm, for which I was grateful.

My brother was acting like such a pussy, which is so unlike him. His wife is having a baby, and yet he does…what he does otherwise. It just threw my head for a loop.

When we reached the hospital, Sonny and Maggie hopped out while I found parking. By the time my family and I rushed inside, they'd already gone up to the maternity floor, and the lot of us already knew where that was.

Some of us took the elevator and others took the stairs, reconvening in the waiting room.

"I don't care. Maggie said I could be in there." Mom pushed Dad over to the side, barreling down the hall to Maggie's birthing suite.

I laughed. "Nothing short of…an act of God is keeping that woman out of there."

"Oh…I wish I could be in there, too," Kylie said, wringing her hands.

"Relax." Peto rubbed her back. Now that they're engaged, he can soothe her, kiss her—whatever—and no one can say shit about it. They still live apart, though—live with their parents. That could be why Peto's doing whatever to make some money.

Dad paced the hall—no matter what anyone said.

Worrisome thoughts soon turned into anxious ones, and about forty-five minutes later, Mom came out with a report.

"He's coming fast!" she squealed, throwing herself into Dad's arms. "She's about seven centimeters dilated already. I bet she was dilating since…whenever! You know Maggie's not that bright."

"Shhh." Dad chuckled, kissing her lips to shut her up.

"You know what I mean." Mom waved a hand. "She's scared, but she takes pain really well. Even so, I talked her into getting the epidural."

"Thank God," Jordan said. "It hurts," she told me.

I smiled. "I've…birthed a couple babies myself."

"Assisted." Jordan corrected me.

"Same difference." I was excited for my brother, and I wished I could see him. "Mom, do you think I can…" I pointed down the hall.

"Sorry, baby. They like to limit the amount of traffic—I gotta go!" Mom ran away again.

Dad stared after her.

"Come on, Ed…Come sit." Carlisle ushered him to a chair.

Dad was too fucking wired, shook his head no. You'd think he was about to give birth, or be a father, and I bet he was as nervous as I was—excited for Sonny but scared something could go wrong.

After hearing all about my mother's experiences . . . Her last, Kylie's was the most nightmarish, where she'd had her third C-section and yet they couldn't get her to stop bleeding.

But so far, so good.

No one was talking Cesareans.

No one was talking anything, really.

It was a waiting game.

As the hours began to pass us by, we all actually grew tired. Aro and Lisa had gone to get everyone coffee and donuts, and at two a.m., Mom came running down the hall again.

"IT'S A BOY!"

Dad was buzzing, unable to be still. "We knew that already!" He shook her.

"A healthy baby boy!" Mom cried. "He's—he's perfect," she sobbed, her knees giving out. "Perfect."

Dad got right down on the floor with her, which was a sweet sight. "Really?" The old man was tearing up, too.

Mom nodded. "We're grandparents!"

Dad squeezed Mom so tight, it made me emotional.

"Yay!" Kylie jumped on top of them.

And for the first time in my life—well, my adult life—I walked over to join in on their group hug, not caring who saw, not caring what anyone thought. This was cause to celebrate, and on Christmas.

And maybe we're weird, but I was proud…

We had one more Cullen amongst us, and, hopefully, another in the near future—Jordan, who joined me, embraced us all as well.

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

**SANTINO**

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

_**S**_antino Junior was still tucked into my arms when six a.m. rolled around. I didn't want to let my little dude go for anything in the world. We named him after me. He also has my dark hair; Maggie has dark hair, too, but he has a lot of it. He's the most adorable thing I've ever seen—he's probably the most beautiful child who's ever been born.

My wife, who's currently sleeping, agrees with me.

He's perfect—ten fingers, ten toes, pretty big balls for a baby—and did I say he's perfect? Mom says he looks like me, but I hope he grows to look more like my beautiful wife.

My gaze kept whipping between the both of them—my wife and my child—and I had no idea how I'd gotten so fucking lucky.

"I love you," I whispered, kissing his forehead.

He moved, and I stiffened, not wanting him to cry and wake Maggie. She did so well. She got the shot in her back that helped with the pain, and she was so nervous, anticipating. Meanwhile, she was calmest of us both when we arrived.

"Your room is all ready for you," I crooned.

The door to the room opened just a little bit. "Can I come in?" It was my brother.

I placed my finger to my lips, nodding.

He rushed to get to my side, look at his nephew. My family was behaving themselves very well, although they haven't left the hospital yet. Mom and Dad were the toughest to kick out of the room, but they were still all waiting—waiting until Maggie woke up. The doctor said she needed her rest, and I agreed with him.

"He's beautiful." My brother got all weepy, and he cried, covering his face with his palms.

I grinned, looking back down to my Sonny. "I know."

Damion sniffled. "Can-can I—um." He reached but took his hands back.

"Go wash them first," I said.

He smiled through his tears, getting some of that hand sanitizer shit from the wall, quick to rub it into his skin.

"Let it dry." I didn't know—there was so much I didn't know, and I didn't want anything hurting my Sonny.

"It's fine." Damion took him from me, and I'll be damned if I almost felt stripped naked—not having my son in my arms anymore. "Look at you." He smiled very wide. "When you get older, I'll teach you how to bust Daddy's balls."

I laughed, sitting back in the chair, and Maggie was still sleeping.

"He's amazing." Damion stared at him. "Amazing . . . You're a dad. Is that weird yet?" His gaze met mine.

I shook my head. "It's weird—loving someone so much at first sight, loving them to—beyond the point of what's logical." Fuck me, I felt emo again, too. "Okay. Give him back."

"No!" Maggie winced as she sat up. "Gimme him."

Damion chuckled as he walked to hand him over to her.

"How was your nap?" I pushed her hair behind her ear.

"I was never sleeping—just resting my eyes. Hello, little love." She placed her lips to Sonny's head. "I missed you…missed holding you." She started to cry, lip quivering and everything. "God…I love him so much."

I rubbed her back, and I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. "Me too."

"Me three," Dame said. "I'll let…Kylie come in…since she's awake." He backed out of the room.

"Go get coffee." Maggie turned to me. "We'll be okay."

I kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She gave me one fierce kiss—a kiss so hard-core, it was like she wanted to make another Sonny right here.

"Damn." I cleared my throat, pulling away.

Maggie giggled.

I kept my eyes on them—my family—as I left the room.

Kylie whizzed by me with Peto, but Damion caught me before I could stumble. "Rude asses," I commented.

"Let's get coffee." Damion put his arm around me. "Wish we had some cigars."

I chuckled, knowing I'd left my heart with Maggie, not wanting to go anywhere.

"Just a heads up…" Dame massaged my shoulder as we walked. "Mom just got the call."

"Call?" I asked.

Damion leaned into my ear. "They found Jasper—shot between the eyes, in his car."

"I forgot about that. Mom's not too upset, right?" I hoped she wouldn't be, not with her grandson just born.

"She's upset for Alice…who…swears Dad did it. I dunno." He let the subject drop as we approached everyone. They all clapped, hooted, and hollered when I'd made my presence known while my mother was still on her cell phone.

"Congrats, man." Aro kissed both my cheeks. "I hear he's beautiful."

I patted his bicep. "Feel free to go say hello." I saw the huge stuffed bear in his arms. "This thing's almost as big as Maggie."

He laughed. "The baby'll dig it." Aro nodded.

"Of course." I hid my eye roll.

"He really is gorgeous," Carlisle said, having seen him.

I slapped my hand to his. "Thank you."

"Beautiful." Aunt Alex had tears in her eyes, too—all the women did, really. Fuck. Us guys were all squishy and emo, too.

My father had his brows raised. "How's Maggie feeling?"

"She's fine." I smiled, giving a pointed glance to Mom.

Dad waved a hand. "Don't think about none of that right now." He kissed me—smack dab on the lips . . . again. "I'm so proud of you!"

I laughed out loud, hugging him tightly. "Technically,_ I_ didn't have the baby."

"But we're another Cullen strong," he sighed, holding my cheeks. "I love ya, kid!"

"I love you, too." I rubbed his back, aching to get back to Sonny and Maggie. However, I was also concerned for my mother—for the future, what it might mean if Alice has the suspicion, and then my cousins have their own thoughts. "I know we hafta talk," I whispered.

"I'm taking care of it. No worries on your part. You go—enjoy." He waved me away.

My eyes stayed on my mother, who was crying—not necessarily happy tears.

"She's fine," Dad said. "Go." He gave me a nudge.

/=/=/=/

My father was correct. Everything regarding Jasper, and even the reasons why he was clipped, were all squared away. Dad made up some story for Alice that she believed.

To be honest, after she found out he had a mistress, which wasn't true . . .

We had one of our guys clip him on his way home from the city along with some no-name prostitute we placed in the car with him.

After Cousin Alice found out about that fun little fact, she actually eased up on Dad, eased up on wanting to know details. It was, after all, her husband, and so she was still torn up about it . . .

Those who'd been following Jasper's lead came to me—one by one—swearing their loyalty to me, my father.

We had their fear, their respect, and they knew what their ends would be had they not given it to us.

Honestly, it was Jasper's crew against my father's entire empire—a losing battle—a stupid battle. But my father's cousin had them thinking they could swoop in and take it all.

Unfortunately for Jasper, my son stole the show at his service—his wake. I didn't feel entirely comfortable taking Sonny to such a public place, but I couldn't hide him or Maggie—keep them away someplace.

Everyone crooned and told us how beautiful he was.

And…with my mother there, no one was getting too close to her grandson anyway. Mom probably had a full clip in her purse for anyone who tried.

"A baby at a funeral." Kylie shook her head.

"Fuck…in this family, it won't be his last…let's just hope it's no one important." Damion bumped his fist to Sonny's teeny one. "Right, my widdle man?" He jutted his lower lip out, squeezing Jordan to his side. I have a feeling that Damion's nephew has softened him—about the baby idea, having one in particular. He's got the itch, and it's plain as day now.

I chuckled, wrapping my arms around Maggie and Sonny, who's six days old.

My mother says he's a good baby, and—while I haven't known many babies, except what I remember of Kylie as a toddler—I agree with her. He only cries when he's got shit in his drawers or wants Maggie's tit, and he's a good sleeper.

Actually, sometimes he cries when Dad holds him. My father is just too fucking loud—swears my son dislikes him, but it's his booming, excited-as-fuck voice, which Mom has told him about, told him to lower it, so maybe it won't scare—startle his grandson.

Dad's getting the hang of it . . . He notices that Sonny doesn't cry in his arms if he's not speaking.

"We should say goodbye." I kissed Maggie's cheek, and having a newborn is a good excuse to duck out early.

"Oh, can we go for pizza?" Kylie asked. "I'll go get Gio."

I never answered her, handing Sonny over to Damion while my wife and I went to say farewell to the rest of our family.

Sonny fell asleep in the car on our way home, and I tried my best not to wake him as I brought him inside. Truth be told, I was exhausted, seeing and greeting all those people, showing face. Since my son was born, I haven't been working—I took my own short paternity leave, not giving a fuck.

"We should take a nap, too," I told Maggie.

"Oh, can we?" She almost seemed excited by the prospect. "He woke up four times last night…I'm beat."

"He did?" I was surprised.

"Yeah…" She nodded, bringing Sonny into the nursery.

I followed, getting there just in time to watch her ease him down. Then she turned, pointing out and tiptoeing.

I did the same, wearing a smile until we entered our bedroom.

Maggie turned on the monitor, sitting on our bed with a huff. "He'll be asleep for…maybe an hour—two?" She didn't bother to get undressed, pulling the blanket over herself.

I crawled in after her. "You should wake me up at night…while I'm home." My hand roamed down her side, wishing like hell we could fuck. Maggie still hasn't lost her baby weight. She thicker and just as beautiful as ever.

She hummed, halfway to sleep already. "You're like a log…don't wake up."

I nuzzled my nose to her cheek. "The doctor said nothing inside, but…" My hand traveled up to her breasts.

Maggie answered with a light snore, and I smiled, rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling. My wife falls asleep just as quickly as our son does these days. Presumably, if he's asleep, so is Maggie, and she truly is a good mom—dotes, always knows what to do, although she second-guesses herself all too often.

I wish she didn't do that.

She fell right into her role—did better than I could have ever imagined, and I was so proud of her.

And I was happy, the happiest I've ever been.

Our house is happy.

It's not as sex-filled as it once was, but I hope once we get down to a…schedule that we can…get back to…having some sex?

I laughed at myself, turning back to hold Maggie tightly.

Just like I hate to let Sonny go, I never wanna lose hold of Maggie either.

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

**KYLIE**

**/=/=/=/=/=/**

_**A**_t Sonny Junior's christening, Gio and I officially announced our engagement. It wasn't our intention to steal the little dude's thunder, but our whole family was together—extended family, too—and it was better we do it here than at Jasper's funeral.

Everyone congratulated us, some gave us money, which will go toward our new place—the one we don't have yet.

For years, I hoped I'd get to live in that sweet apartment on Fourth Avenue—where Damion lives now, but I guess it's not my turn.

My mother said that Aro and Dad have a surprise for us; however, it'll be a wedding present—like maybe our own house, so we're torn between waiting it out and just needing our own place already.

It's torture—to be engaged to the most gorgeous man imaginable and not be able to fuck him senseless whenever I want to.

This time, I was sure I'd make it down the aisle—sure we'd get married.

Although…this actually wasn't a rehearsal dinner, nor was it an engagement party.

I giggled to myself and turned to tickle under Li'l Sonny's chin—one of his little wrinkles. "How's Aunty's baby?"

He didn't do anything because he's barely a month old, his eyes fluttering to a close.

I sighed, still staring.

"Want some cake?" Gio was already stuffing his face with some. "It's good."

I smiled. "I'm good." Soon, whenever we have steady plans, I'll need to squeeze into a wedding gown. "I can't wait to marry you." There were stars in my eyes as I stared at Gio. "I love you."

He grinned, leaning over to kiss me. "I love you, too." His eyes went to Sonny Junior for a second. "Maybe we'll have a baby, too…someday."

"Someday," I agreed, nestling into his side. "And we'll all live happily ever after?"

"Definitely," he spoke with a mouthful.

It made me giggle as I grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth.

"We'll be as happy as your mom and dad?" He quirked a brow.

I turned to see my parents swaying to a muted beat they must have had in their heads—occasionally kissing.

There was enough security here, where we were all carefree.

"I hope so. I hope we all are." My gaze trailed to Damion and Jordan, who—at the moment—were trying to swallow each other's faces whole, and then Maggie and Sonny. They were too busy showing a united front as they greeted everyone—much like our parents used to do. After all, Sonny's the new Skip, and Maggie's his wife . . .

"I think so." I looked back to Gio, smiling; meanwhile, I had my fingers crossed under the table. "I know so."

His lips crashed to mine, and the butterflies flew wildly in my stomach, which made me want to mount him right here and now.

But…it was my turn to watch the baby.

Reluctantly, I pulled away to smile.

**The End…well, sort of. **

**There's one more epilogue coming up!**

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	53. Epilogue Two

**Stephenie**** Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd**** by ****HollettLA****.**

**HUGE THANK YOU to everyone! Love you guys!**

* * *

**Riders on the Storm**

**Epilogue: Magical Day **

**Edward POV**

_**S**_weating bullets, I wiped at my forehead with the handkerchief I had in my breast pocket as decoration. "Shit." I was nervous and sad, more so than I'd ever been in my life.

"That's…Dad, it's supposed to stay inside." Santino folded the silver cloth up to stuff it back in. "Relax." Nowadays, we either call him by his full name or Big Sonny to distinguish between the two Sonnys, Li'l Sonny being his son.

"Daddy!" Little Sonny whined, pulling on his father's pant leg. "Out." He wanted to play outside.

"No, buddy. Come on." He gathered his son into his arms. "Behave and don't whine." He shook his finger.

Even an anxious mess, I gave my grandson the brow that meant business. "You know what happens to little boys who whine, right?"

Little Sonny giggled at me. "Unka-Maymen—" he spoke of Damion "—says you gon'do nuffin'."

"Oh!" My son winced, covering his mouth. "Don't talk back to Pop-Pop."

I narrowed my eyes at that little boy, but I couldn't hold my stare. "Watch it." I leaned in, and he came forward to rest his forehead to mine, giving me the mean eyes right back.

"Iz mean bit'ness!" He poked his thumb to his chest.

I quickly kissed those pouty lips before putting my palms up, backing away. "Holy shit. Guess you schooled me."

"Holy ship-balls, Skip," he giggled, and I laughed with him.

"Dad, can you not?" Santino asked. "You encourage him."

"He's two—it's cute, and all we do is work on his vocabulary." I smoothed out my jacket. "We got fifteen minutes…" I looked around the empty foyer. "Let's go outside, grab a smoke."

"I wanna!" Sonny Junior raised his hand.

My son groaned. "Lemme find Maggie…or Mom." He walked off, and I hoped he'd send Bella my way.

I blew out a calming breath, looking up to the arched ceiling.

It almost felt as though I was transported back in time. The bows, all the decorations—the hues of silver, blue, and white. Saint Anselm's Church looked exactly like it did when I married Bella all those years ago.

That's what Kylie wanted—a wedding like ours.

Only . . . there's about two hundred more people here, and we kept it small. The pews are fucking packed with our family, Aro's family, associates, and people who don't even know our fucking kids.

_I bet they make out like bandits, though...money-wise. _

We presented our gift to the happy couple weeks ago. They now own a house that's up the street from Santino and Maggie. I felt like saying fuck it—let's buy the whole block—knowing Damion will relent at some point.

In lieu of a house, since I didn't want Damion, our free spirit, to feel trapped, I gave him a choice—a house or four million dollars. They're still living in that apartment on Fourth Avenue, and that money's in the bank. Of course, I'd given that to him after Damion and Jordan eloped. No fuss. No nothing. They got married on a random Tuesday…in the middle of their workday, which…baffled Bella and me.

My wife was upset that she wasn't there, but she forgot all about it when Dame told us that Jordan was pregnant.

It was planned, too—they wanted a baby. It wasn't a "oops" situation. The dude who swore he'd never have kids actively—and secretly—tried for quite a few months to get Jordan knocked up.

With how busy they are, I had no idea how he found the time.

They didn't care about a ceremony. They didn't need one. Damion and Jordan only needed Damion and Jordan, and nothing mattered to them. They already had each other but said they'd make it official when they_ had_ to…when that stick confirmed her condition.

I understood it all, though, and so did Bella.

Love is love…

When you find that person…a piece of paper only changes so much in the grand scheme of things.

Jordan is six months along, and she's having a girl.

Whenever I think about that, it makes me cackle on the inside.

Damion spent like how many years being jealous of Santino, who always wanted a girl but now has two boys?

Maggie got pregnant again real quick after Sonny was born. Sonny and his little brother, Edward, aren't even a year apart. There's an eleven-month difference between them, but…Santino and Maggie are happy. They feel blessed.

Especially since I hear Maggie's period is late again, and it's a given.

I'm telling you, when it comes to them…

_Every time they call and have big news, I already know what it is…I'll put it that way. _

And now . . . Fuck me.

If Kylie's not already pregnant, she will be soon.

I just hope she finishes school—that they both finish school. My soon-to-be son-in-law spends too much time at Eclipse when he's not on campus. And, trust me, his presence has nothing to do with naked women swinging from poles.

He'd be dead already—innocent wandering eye, nothing. Aro's son, my ass.

He does what he has to, to make money, but I didn't want him to worry about it.

I didn't want Peto to feel as though he had a sword hanging over his head. And . . . maybe Aro raised him too well? I don't know. He doesn't have that edge.

But…my offering to help was charity to him, and all I asked was that he manage Midnight Sun, put his degree to work after he graduates. I have a feeling he'll relent, but it's _charity_. Fuck that.

_Family helps family. _

It's okay…that his father and I paid for his crib and this monstrosity of a wedding, though.

After all, it's not like Aro would ever let Peto get his hands dirty anyway.

_These fucking kids today, man . . ._

Carlisle's always bending over backward to wipe Ant's ass. Peto and Ant run the brokerage together and do stupid, silly things, thinking they're these badass . . . wiseguys from some movie of the week.

_They're fucking corny—flinch whenever my son and I walk into a room. _

Shit today . . .

It's nothing like it was back when I was just starting. It's also nothing like it was when my eldest was just starting. Now, Santino worked his ass off! I made fucking sure of that.

These half-assed pussies walking around like they're down . . .

They make a little money, which makes them happy, but…

More and more I wished Damion had gone into the family business; he was a natural. However, I guess saving the lives of children is more important—that pediatric surgery stuff he does.

Either way, I knew my bruisers were going to make a difference in the world—both worlds. I look at them now and think I raised Al Capone and Dr. Oz from back in the day…or whichever famous doctor I'm too stupid to know about.

Santino runs a few things differently than I did—he's into bigger game while letting the small fish go. There's no shaking people down anymore for a few dollars. There's no drugs at all—well, no made men deal with the likes of it but we do benefit. There's no bookmakers out on the streets. He made that huge—private call centers, like illegal OTBs all over the place—and none of it's traceable, not the way he has it set up.

A few things…he's been able to turn around, and his reputation rivals mine.

Maybe…I never really took a step back. I'm still working. I never retired. I counsel Santino now, along with my brother, and Aro's still our happy little scapegoat.

Not much has changed, and I bitch, but…Anthony and Peto just piss me off. They don't fit. They need to do something else.

Damion's fucking brilliant, and I had so much confidence that he'd go on to do so many great things.

He'd save lives, and when in Rome…

Since I'm in a church…

I mean, all his good deeds—even if he's done some bad—might just get me into heaven, right? My kid saves kids?

And Kylie hasn't made her way yet, but my daughter . . . she just makes the world a more beautiful place when she smiles, just like her mother.

"Hey…you all right?" Bella poked my side.

I breathed a sigh of relief, turning to face my love. "I-I don't know if I can—"

"Oh, baby." She reached up to hold my cheeks, gorgeous in a light purple dress that was age-appropriate and yet still managed to show off her fuck-awesome curves. Now my brain was torn, but there was no way I could walk my daughter down the aisle with a fucking hard-on.

"You're not helping. Go over there." I pointed.

Bella giggled, getting in my face. "Is that your way of saying I look good? 'Cause this Nanna's still got it!" She stabbed her chest with her thumb, and she wore that same bit'ness face that Sonny Junior had on earlier.

I grinned, bending low to bite the fuck outta that nose—nibble it between my teeth.

She scoffed, pushing me away but playful. "Now it's gonna be all red."

"I'll kiss it better." I puckered my lips.

Bella pouted. "Baby…you're not really _giving her away_. She'll be around the corner."

"I know." I had to clear my throat.

"And…well, I should just tell you now—"

"She's pregnant!" I threw my hands up. "Is there something in the water?" I shouted.

Bella hopped to cover my mouth. "Shut up."

I grasped her wrist tightly, but if I've learned anything over the years, it's that Bella's my partner in crime; I let her go. "I'm sorry." I swore I was going to pull my hair out, and despite being a piece-of-shit, I've been blessed in that I still have my hair. "Seriously?"

Bella squealed while she danced around me. "I love it!"

"She's a baby." I bit my quivering lip.

"She's twenty-one!" Bella had a scolding tone. "They have a house…She's not dropping out of school—not with one and a half semesters left until she graduates. She's not getting lazy now," she laughed.

"She's an art major. Let's be realistic. She's going to be a housewife."

Bella pushed me. "Stop it!"

I huffed a breath. "She's—" My baby was going to be a mother. My baby, my Kylie. "I can't do this." I thought I was going to have a heart attack, and I loosened my tie.

"Edward, you have to." Bella pulled on my forearm. "You cannot—"

I pointed into the church. "I'mma kill that Peto-Fucker!" I sniffled. "They ain't even married yet. They're still in college; Aro owes me money now—"

"Edward…" My wife placed her hand on my back, which calmed me.

I leaned into her touch. "They planned it."

"Yup," Bella sighed.

I whipped around to her. "I told her it was like the fucking chicken pox!"

Bella giggled, crawling her fingers up my chest. "It's a baby…Kylie's having a baby. That's it. It's not the end of the world," she whispered, holding my cheeks. "Look at you, crying…"

"Shut up." I wiped under my eyes.

"Oh…if Little Sonny could see the big, bad Skip now."

"He gets away with things." I smirked. "You don't fuck with Li'l Sonny."

Bella showed me her palms, her eyes wide with mock fear. "No one's dumb enough—he's hard-core."

I pulled her into my arms. "Bebella—"

"You're going to congratulate Kylie." She fixed my tie. "You're going to tell her that you love her, and that she's the most beautiful bride you've ever fucking seen."

Bella had tears in her eyes now. "You're going to let her know you know because…she's been scared, so scared, but…it's not a bad thing. I can't see it as that…considering we're at her wedding," she laughed. "Sonny and Dame both eloped, and…hopefully, God willing, you know…they only get married the one time."

She huffed. "And…you remember the days Santino, Damion, and Kylie were born? You remember the days Li'l Sonny and Littlest Eddie were born, too? Those were _all_ magical days, and we're going to keep having magical days. And you need to be thankful. Remember a few years ago? Joe could've been your son-in-law. It's fucking Peto at the altar, so keep it together."

"You gotta keep it together, Skip." She quirked a bitch brow. "Maybe Dame can sew kids' organs or whatever, but you're going to have to talk him through a few Daddy Panic Attacks. Like that time Big Sonny thought he could give Little Sonny solid foods when he had no teeth? Thinking, 'My kid wants it bad enough, he'll gum it.'" Bella brought her voice down to an alto.

"Giving him fries with no teeth," I laughed but it really wasn't funny. "He should'a known better, and Maggie almost shot him—kicked him out for two days. That bitch is fierce when it comes to her kids, man."

"I like to think good moms are—"

I spoke over her, knowing I'd get laid tonight, and it'll be kinkier if she drinks . . . "Reminds me of you…but you're tough to beat in that fierceness—good-mom-department." I pecked her lips, which elicited a happy hum. "Big Sonny's always been too smart and fucking simple at the same time."

"That's my son you're talking about." Bella gave me a nudge, and fuck me. She was serious, but it made me smile.

I nodded, about to tease her, which might cost me a blow job. "Yeah…he's mine, too. I'll claim the good half."

Bella stared up at me, resting her chin on my chest. "Maybe Peto might need Daddy talks, too…You and Aro can have that joint grandkid youse have always wanted."

I grinned. "True."

"Can I come to the wedding? When you and Aro get married?"

"Not funny." I deadpanned.

She snorted. "Fuck. I thought it was." She reached behind me to palm my ass, but then she was serious again. "You need to help me, too."

I furrowed my brow. "What's up?"

"Kylie…Bridezilla, but you still have to say all those nice things. You're Daddy. She knows I love her and all that squishy stuff. Today, I'm trying to keep those bitch fits of hers at bay, and I hope I don't explode." She nodded, matter of fact. "It's the day we've been—_I've_ been planning for seven months." She looked down to her shoes. "Seven fucking months, and does she say thank you?"

I placed my lips to hers and kissed her deep. My Bebella melted into my arms, and our lip-lock helped to relax me as well.

"You gotta be all…Mr. FuckHot in your tux." She gestured, her chest heaving.

I palmed that fat ass with both hands. "Fuck it. Let's go. Lemme hit it real quick. They won't start without us."

Bella whimpered, her hand falling down to—

"No!" she nearly shouted, hopping away. "We're in church."

"We're married already—been married." I closed my eyes. "I'm fucking you in my mind right now."

"Room at the Waldorf for as many days…if you…stop." She still can't resist me.

"Pop-Pop still got it." I pointed to myself, nodding. "I'm the man."

Bella giggled. "I love you."

"More than there are…" Suddenly, I was weepy again. I couldn't finish, but I had to. "More than there are stars in the sky."

Bella sighed, all wistful. "I love when you're a mush…like we just did anal or something," she whispered.

And just like that, I was fine—had to clear my throat. "Is that, uh, on the table for this evening? I can score some pot—"

"Yes to the weed." She looked around us. "We'll see how that other thing goes."

"That means no..." I almost whined, my body wanting to wiggle while I started to beg like my grandson does. "But you love it, too."

"It's not no. We'll see."

"All right," I said.

If I get her drunk—the wife still has no tolerance to booze, is a cheap date—and maybe if I dance a little bit, she'll totally give it up the ass.

_I was going to keep hope alive!_

Because…I always wanna fuck Bebella's ass.

That hasn't changed either.

"But you, when you talk to Kylie, you remember what I said about magical days, Edward…just like this one."

"Like the day we got married." I held her close, and Bella's emotions were going haywire, too.

"Stop…You're gonna make me fuck up my makeup." She fanned her face, trying not to cry, and then she shook it off—eyes bright. "Remember how drunk I got?"

"You wore Velcro panties—"

"That's all you remember?" she asked.

"Well—" I smirked "—the panties were a key…plot point…to me. You're the magician." My hands roamed again, those sneaky fuckers. "You pull magical days out of a hat, it seems…and _you're_ magic." Now that…will at least get me a few pokes at her ass, and then I felt bad. "I meant that shit." I pursed my lips. "For real."

Bella winced. "And fucking Nanny!" She held her head.

"God rest her soul." We said and did the Sign of the Cross in unison before chuckling.

"Christ. Remember Carlisle's wedding when he was—" Bella cringed this time.

I laughed even louder. "Oh my God…so many people are dead." It was crazy to think of everyone—faces that you never think about, haven't thought about for decades, flashed across my mind. I didn't feel a certain way about it, and my cackling was…because it was funny…in an ironic kind of way? Oh, who cares…my wife knows me.

"How's Alice? I didn't see her arrive?" I asked.

"She was late like always—came in the side door with Annie and Jacob. She's sitting near Emmett and Rose." She brought her voice down, cupping her mouth with her hand. "She's on Prozac now. She's like torn—told me she doesn't know if she should hate Jasper for cheating on her all these years, or mourn his death. It's…two years later, and…" Bella just stopped talking.

And she has no idea that my cousin was probably just as faithful to Alice as I've _always _been to my Bebella.

The dead hooker was staged.

Too bad Jasper wasn't faithful to me, got hungry for power.

When there was a possibility that Jasper might bump my Sonny off?

Forget about it.

That was one of those times where I only _let_ Santino think he came to his own conclusion. I planted seed after seed, and I had no problem goading him, making shit sound worse than it actually was—pushing him because even a small threat is still a threat, and that's my baby boy.

I also had no beef letting him take the credit.

Skip killed his own cousin.

_Big fucking deal. _

But Santino—my Sonny—taking Jasper out?

A move which showed everyone that blood doesn't make you family.

Loyalty does.

It showed how cutthroat my son could be. Especially since he didn't think twice, no matter what I put in his head.

"Weren't you on Lithium?" I asked.

"No! I was on Zoloft for a few months while you were in the can—like a lifetime ago!" Bella slapped my bicep. "I could probably use some therapy, though."

I grabbed my cock from over my slacks. "I got your therapy right hea!" I meant that shit, too.

She giggled, coming toward me; she's just as bad, and _that's_ when the wedding party flooded the foyer. "Bit'ness!" My wife waved her finger. "Magical day."

Calm now, because _Bella_ is just fucking magical, my eyes traveled around—looking for Kylie.

My gaze landed on Damion, wondering what he was doing chillin' with all the girls—his wife included. He was supposed to be ushering people to their seats or something. The last time I saw him, Damion was helping his grandfather—Big-Big Ed—walk inside.

Dame sighed, sidling up to me. "Kylie's nuts."

"Why?" I asked, and I saw my daughter crying, mid-rant. "What happened?"

"Maggie lactated, which…ruined her dress—not Kylie's dress, Maggie's dress," he explained.

"Who cares?" I asked. "Isn't that Maggie's problem? It's unfortunate, but…" I started laughing. "Big Sonny could just hold her tits in the pictures—cover the wet spots."

"Dude, I totally fucking said that. I got ice glares across the board—my wife, Mags, Hanna, and Kylie almost scratched my eyes out." He shrugged. "I gotta go grab Sonny from Big Sonny." He walked out ahead of everyone, occasionally waving to those he knew in the pews.

"Unka-Maymen!" Li'l Sonny shouted. He was very fucking loud. I think he gets that from me, along with his green eyes that were huge at the moment. But he truly looks just like his father.

Big Sonny just let him go. He was currently standing next to Peto as his best man while he also watched his son run to Dame. It was cute, and they gotta few "awww"s from the crowd.

"Out!" Li'l Sonny wasn't deterred, wanted out of here. "Skip! Get me!" I'd never heard that before. "Pop-Pop, pway wiff me!" He wanted to play with me.

I smiled as I waved.

"Pop-Pop!" he screamed, screeched, like he was being tortured.

"Damn." I gave him another small wave as he continued to whine, trying to run from Damion.

"Pipe down!" Big-Big Ed, my father, shouted out to his great-grandson.

"No!" Li'l Sonny hollered.

"Bring that little shit ova hea!" My father was too fucking loud, too. The crowd laughed, and the church was otherwise pretty quiet despite how many people occupied it.

They were all making a scene, but Li'l Sonny is two, and I've never known a child who behaved in church.

Big Sonny was about to grab his son when Damion slid into a row of seats.

"Shhhh." Damion knows better than he lets on, squashed his nephew to his chest as he took a seat and the music started up.

"Was I supposed to let my child starve?" Maggie asked Kylie. "You want a screaming baby ruining your wedding instead of my dress—"

I didn't want to turn. God help me, if she's still nursing as they speak. Bella told me in passing that Maggie's trying to ween Littlest Ed off boob milk, whatever.

"Uh, no . . . but ya could'a pumped beforehand. S'not rocket science here, Mags. I mean, really?" Kylie had a tone. "And Little Sonny is already making a stink—"

"Is that a crack at my parenting?" Maggie had her claws out, but they fight like real sisters, argue like Dame and Sonny used to . . . when they were _kids_. Okay, so occasionally those two—the girls—throw fists out, too. "Lemme tell you something—"

"Both of youse—stop!" Bella scolded. "Gimme Littlest Ed." Grandma stole the baby, which always happens. "You—the train's long enough, hold it high," Bella told Maggie. "Cover your boobs. And you…" She narrowed her eyes at Kylie. "No one likes a bitchy bride. I don't care if it's your wedding day. Go cry to your father."

"Daddy…" Kylie came over to me.

I smiled as I placed my arm around her. "So, you're knocked up, huh?"

That stopped those tears right in their tracks.

"The next wedding, you might be leaking everywhere." I shrugged.

"My child will be on a schedule. He or she will understand—"

"You're delusional." I chuckled at my naïve baby girl. "Children don't—they _can't_ understand." I stared down to the floor, and I didn't know how I felt anymore—still feeling the need to protect her no matter what, and now I didn't know if she understood all she'd signed up for already. "You sure you're ready for all this?" I turned to face her, holding her cheeks. "We can go right now—right now. We can just leave—"

"Gio's up there. I can't leave." Her eyes were wide. "I love him, Daddy."

"Good." I kissed her forehead. "Because he loves you, but if you weren't sure…" My words got caught in my throat. "You know, you'll always-always-always have a place at the house, right?"

She sniffled. "I know."

I nodded. "But you haven't been living there for a few. I'mma be real. You'll wanna call first."

"You and Mom are nasty."

"Yeah…" I agreed. "Hell…" Torn again, I tried to think of all the reasons I thought today was bad.

My house was child-free.

A house without children, sans kiddos.

_Just_ Bella and me.

We could be naked…all the time, except for when our children bring their children over, or someone's crying to Bella…or someone's needing to confer with me.

_Yeah, nothing's changed. _

"You look, my God, Kylie Cat." I kissed her forehead, smiling widely, when I finally . . . opened my eyes, truly looked to her. She was a vision in white, looked too much like her mother—in Nanny's old dress. That fucking dress was over seventy years old, and it was timeless. "Wow."

She giggled through her tears. "You think? Me?"

"I know…I _know so_, baby." I grabbed both her hands. "Smile, because…" I tried my hardest not to cry again. "This is a magical day. This is where it all begins. Soon, you'll have your husband, your own life. You'll be a mom, have your _own_ family, and then twenty years'll flash by, and you'll think…Kylie, you'll wonder in _amazement_…where all the time went. You'll just—" I tapped my forehead.

And like times before . . . I didn't see Kylie.

I blinked, and she was two feet tall with the chubbiest legs, a mess of curls on her head.

But then my eyes refocused, and she was in her wedding dress?

That was my problem.

When the fuck did _my kids_ grow up?

When did _I _grow up?

How can I make _all this_ stop? I wondered.

However, I knew there was no putting a stop to anything.

"Daddy…" The floodgates opened. "I can't see you…" She pointed.

I chuckled, wiping under my eyes, as the wedding party started walking down the aisle. We were up soon. "I love you…and I'm always gonna be here. No matter what. Capisce?"

She nodded. "I capisce. I love you, too . . . don't let me fall." She gripped my forearm tightly.

"Never." I blew out a breath, and I faced the aisle. "I used to let you fall all the time as a kid—thinking you'd learn and stop crawling on the furniture, but you were stubborn," I whispered in her ear. "Toddlers are sneaky fuckers, I'm telling you. Keep your eyes peeled at all times."

Kylie laughed.

"And when you were around two, your favorite word was pussy."

"No way!" She bumped me with her hip.

"I hoped you'd be a lesbian, but…they get married, too, now," I joked.

Kylie wore a toothy grin, yet her torso shook with laughter. "Stop . . . but, thank you. I'm not as nervous." She still had tears in her eyes.

"Dame used to sneak into our room at night and watch Mom and me fuck. Always remember to lock the door when youse want—privacy," I explained.

"Ewwww." She breathed as we followed her cousins down the aisle with Maggie behind us.

"Big Sonny was so pissy as a teenager, he made you look like an angel, the most logical of thinkers during puberty," I said, and I tried not to laugh myself. "Look at him, all big…He's gonna go home and cry because you got married…His baby sis is gone." But Big Sonny only had eyes for the woman behind us, his wife, Maggie. He was smiling so wide, you'd think this was their wedding. It warmed my heart.

"I'll be around." Kylie's face fell again.

"That's right." I nodded. "Just around the corner—down the block from him, actually. Hey, when you're done having this kid? You could get the name of the birth control Maggie uses."

"The rhythm method?" Kylie asked.

"Yeah, sometimes, we listened to music." Maggie had no humor in her tone, but she understood.

I threw my head back and laughed, which earned me quite a few looks. "My heart…it's like the Grinch's…it grows each time one of youse has a kid," I sighed, leaning to kiss her temple. "Congratulations, baby."

"Thank you, Daddy." She squeezed my hands. "I was afraid you'd make me a widow before the honeymoon." Her tone was teasing and then she belched under her breath.

"You all right?" I asked, and we were at the altar now.

She nodded, smiling while she locked eyes with Peto. "He's my future," she whispered. "Mom said she knew—looking at you, that you were hers, and I feel it." Her stare never left his, Peto's, and yet I knew she'd been speaking to me.

"Same happened to me," I admitted, and I was old news now.

Wordlessly, I placed her hand in his, and I gave that fucker a look.

Peto's a lot more intimidated by it than Little Sonny.

"Pop-Pop!"

Speaking of . . .

"Momma!" Li'l Sonny shouted, standing on Dame's lap as he waved. "Aunt Ky-wee!"

My daughter winked at her nephew.

"Momma!" He blew his mother a kiss, which made everyone chuckle, but it seemed like he didn't know who he wanted anymore.

Still smiling wide, I turned to have a seat with my wife, and Little Sonny sat on my lap for the remainder of the ceremony—quiet, like children should be.

Kidding.

Now that I'm a grandfather, I like 'em loud and a little fresh, funny. I like giving them candy and sugar, and then sending them home to their parents.

_Hey, the Grinch had an evil side, too. _

Little Sonny is my buddy. We get into trouble together these days, but he never rats on Pop-Pop . . . and I'm supposed to know better.

He's my third bruiser, and Littlest Ed'll be my fourth.

_Fuck. _

Soon, I'll have my own gang of little bruisers. They'll help me get revenge on their parents—my ball-busting children.

As a parent, it wasn't about being cool, but as a grandfather…?

_Hell yeah!_

After they said "I do," Bella and I followed the procession outside. She had Littlest Ed and I had my mini bruiser—Little Sonny on my shoulders. And we said our farewells as everyone left, needing to stay behind and take pictures.

"Boobies, Pop-Pop." He pointed.

"Where?" my brother asked.

Little Sonny pointed again. "Big boobies, like Nanna's."

I reached to give him a high five, and he's the only dude alive who can comment about my wife's breasts and get away with it.

"Ugh…You killed it, kid." Carlisle grinned up to him. "Wanna come with me?" He reached for him.

Little Sonny shook his head no. "Unka-Maymen says youse'a tool."

"Oh!" I shouted. "He fuckin' told you—fuckin' sonned you, C!"

My brother rolled his eyes, and he still doesn't have any grandkids yet. Thank God, I mean, his twins are only going on eight. I don't think he could handle any more. Although, I have no idea what Hanna and Carli are waiting for. Little Eddie—Medium Ed, or whatever the fuck—might just get some chick knocked up before his big sisters pop any out.

Little Ed slash Medium Ed—is in his first year of college. Hanna is newly engaged to another guy who's younger than the last; I think Tom's in his forties. Carli is single, and she lives in the Village.

Blaze and Ronald are cool as fuck. They remind me so much of Big Sonny and Damion it's scary.

All in all, though—my brother's family's the same. Carlisle's still a perv, still appreciates a nice pair of tits, which…apparently isn't age-specific. He's crazy in love with his wife, and it doesn't look like that'll be changing any time soon.

"You gonna take that from a baby, _from a baby_, bro?" I nudged him.

"Put'em up!" Li'l Sonny probably had his dukes up—that's what I taught him.

_Fucking Maggie's gonna hate me. _

But she married Big Sonny, and I raised him . . .

_Fuck it. _

I leaned over so Li'l Sonny could throw a punch at my brother, and Carlisle pretended to be knocked out. It caused my grandson to lose his shit, laugh his ass off. "'Gain. Do 'gain." He put his fist out.

My brother placed his face to it. "Oh, man…you got my eye," Carlisle laughed.

"Yeah!"

I knew my grandson was flexing his biceps while he sat on my shoulders, making The Hulk face.

But before we left the double doors, I pulled him down. "Go with Mommy." I gave him a nudge toward Maggie, and he was so fucking amped—hyper now. He ran to punch Blaze in the stomach instead, but I can't imagine it hurt.

His two-year-old fists don't pack that much heat. "Yeah!" He jumped up and down, and then did a fist pump.

"Mom!" Blaze ran to Alex. "Did you see that?"

"Don't be a baby!" Ronald scolded him.

Maggie grabbed Li'l Sonny's shoulder. "Sonny, please. Be good for Momma," she pleaded.

"No!" He shouted, but then Sonny—Big Sonny—pointed that finger of his, like I used to, and his son went to hide behind Nanna, my Bebella—which is always his best refuge.

"You got it," I told him.

Santino winked at me. "I learned from the best."

"Ha!" I barked. "Oh…Your mother greases my shit just fine. What do you want now?" I stared at our eldest.

He smiled. "Not a damn thing." His ten-month-old—Littlest Ed—barfed on his tux. "It's all over, isn't it?" Santino wouldn't look.

I appraised his expensive tuxedo that was garbage now.

"Shit." Maggie took the baby from Big Sonny.

"I'll just—" He was at a loss as he took off his jacket.

"Ewww. Daddy, pookies." Li'l Sonny pointed, turning to his grandmother. "Widdlest Ed gots'a boo-boo belly."

Bella giggled, only to give him a squeeze. "Gah! You're too cute."

"I knows." Li'l Sonny smiled.

"The pictures are going to look horrible!" Kylie yelled at them both—Maggie and Santino.

"You just got married. So help me, God!" Bella pinched her. "Stop being a fucking brat!"

"Nanna says fucking." Li'l Sonny smiled up at Nanna.

Bella pointed that finger at me.

"Yo, what'd I do?" I asked.

"Doesn't matter! You did something." She gritted her teeth. "Can we take these pictures?" She fanned her dress to her chest, likely having a hot flash.

This time, I felt like hiding behind Maggie . . .

"How you holding up?" I asked Jordan, sidestepping to be next to her instead.

She grinned, rubbing her baby bump. "I'm great. Tired all the time, but…happy."

Damion groaned, his hands roaming everywhere, as did his lips around her neck.

"Cut it out." I punched his shoulder. "I can't be a perv in church, you can't."

"Says who?" he asked.

"God…?" I quirked a brow.

"Seems legit," Dame sighed, standing behind his wife to hold her waist. "Can we take these pictures before Jordan goes into labor?"

"It's hot, right?" Bella asked the crowd. "Or, is it just me?"

_No one_ answered her.

"Get ova hea." I called her with my finger, using my tone that's only for her.

Bella grinned, easing her way to me. "I'mma put Kylie through a fucking wall. I love her, but Edward…"

I gulped a loud one—Bella's going through menopause and Kylie's first trimester, and we have two daughter-in-laws who are also pregnant. "The fuck you worried about? I gotta clip wit' my own name on it."

Bella whipped to me, her eyes as big as saucers, her flushed skin extending down to her chest. "Not if I kill you first," she whispered. "You can't hide in that club—leave me alone with them." Her face threatened to crumple. "Just the thought, you know…? It's scary."

"Oh, Mom…don't cry. I'm sorry." Kylie rubbed her back. "I'm sure the pictures—"

"Piss on your pictures!" Bella spat.

Our daughter scoffed, nestling into her husband's side. "Mom's on the rag."

"Watch it!" I pointed my finger. Married or not, I don't let no one come out their mouths at my wife.

"Come on, everyone." The photographer waved us together, and I looked over to Aro who was unusually quiet. Maybe he still felt a little depressed because Katie wasn't here. No one told her she couldn't come, and he never talks about her . . . around us, anyway.

As far as I know, she's still single; her baby is almost four years old.

AJ—that punk—was here. Since he had a falling out with his long-time girlfriend, I heard he was Ant's unofficial date, which…Aro's still fucking clueless. But those two, along with Little Ed were on the quiet side, too.

My father—Big-Big Ed, as I'm now referred to as Big Ed—wasn't making a stink either—in the corner with his walker, chillin' with Hanna and Carli.

Like always, my immediate family was the loudmouths.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

As if on cue, Littlest Ed started to cry.

"Shhh." Maggie winced and began to rock him, but it looked like he wanted to get down—have his freedom. He's crawling now, about to start walking soon.

"I got him." Big Sonny chuckled as he swung him around, making Littlest Ed giggle.

"Don't!" Maggie warned.

"He already puked." Big Sonny smiled, landing a smooch on Maggie's cheek as he passed the baby over to Damion.

"Boobies, see?" Li'l Sonny told Carlisle, but he was pointing to my brother's wife the whole time—Alex, who had a plunging neckline. "Boobies!"

"Everyone say…boobies?!" The photographer asked, and it made us all smile wide.

"Boobies!" we all shouted, the flash momentarily blinding us.

I caught Aro's gaze with my own, silently jerking my chin.

He rolled his eyes at his wife, so they were likely bickering about something dumb, which made me feel better.

"I'd never leave you with them," I whispered in Bella's ear. "I was never a flight risk before."

She blew out a breath. "I've been stressed out, and…I'm glad they're married. I love her; she's our daughter. She's my best friend, but sometimes…" She groaned, making a fist. "All day, her nagging me for seven months, and I did everything—"

"Magical day," I said.

Bella plastered a smile on. "She's too concerned with everything being perfect…" My wife had an epiphany and left the group to face Kylie. "You're too worried about everything being perfect, and you're going to miss the best parts!" she cried. "The beauty…of everything…is in the flaws. The humor, memorable moments are in the flaws, baby. Maggie's tits are leaking. Sonny has puke on him. Your nephew's dirty mouth rivals yours as a toddler—"

"Why is it _my _family?" Big Sonny asked.

I shrugged. "It's your turn. Once upon a time, fuck…it was us." I waved a finger between Bella and myself.

"We all had our moments," Aro piped up. "Nothing is _ever_ perfect, but it gets—comes close." He grinned, bending low to kiss Lisa's hair. "Pretty fucking close."

"Boy, did we have our moments." Carlisle winced. "We're a trailer home away from the _Jerry Springer Show_."

"Who?" Kylie asked.

"Can we take these pictures?" Now the photographer sounded snappy.

"Yo, who you gettin' loud with?" I asked.

"I'm sayin'." Big Sonny widened his arms.

"Put'em up!" Li'l Sonny hopped out to show off his guns.

Photo dude backed away from us.

"Yeah!" Li'l Sonny had a swag as he walked back to his mom. "I haz appy juice now?"

We all shared a laugh again.

And all I wanted to do . . .

All I yearned to do, as we all made eye contact with each other's smiling faces, was tell them just how much I loved them.

I didn't, knowing that they already knew that, as I held Bella tightly.

Like always, I didn't want to let go . . .

Content to hold on for dear life, hold on to us and our family.

No matter how big it gets, no matter how much changes or stays the same, I needed to hold on . . . for the rest of my life, and I would cherish every single moment.

* * *

**The End.**


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